#Sometimes the Farmer will kill them to feed itself and/or it’s family. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

retvenkos · 3 years

Text

“and we were destroyed before we were made whole.”

A/N: the amazing @brokenandheadoverheels asked me to talk about my mc for blades of light and shadow so here we gooooooo

@bladesappreciationweek, Day 7: MC + Wild Card SOME GENERAL INFORMATION ABOUT OLINDA, MY BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW MC...

background: while i do like the mc’s original background, sometimes you have to disregard canon for the drama of it all. so.... just kind of disregard the “bandits killed my parents” storyline.

she’s a human - more about her look here

she and her family lived on the outskirts of riverbend - they were humble farmers, working the land, and they were old friends with kade’s family.

when olinda is five, there’s a drought.

it hits right right before crop season, and nothing can grow. droughts in morella are rare, but when they hit, they last for a long time - years. the crown is expected to have resources saved in the event of these

king arlan, a man of excess and pride, blew through a lot of morella’s saved resources throwing the most elaborate of banquets to get nobles on his side, rather than his twin brother

(who was the more popular of the two but younger by just a few minutes, denying him a birthright that many would have loved to see challenged.)

when the drought hit, it was a crisis that needed averting.

the position of king’s advisor was a revolving door because arlan was intent on finding someone who could fix this problem, without having to negotiate with orcs or elves or (even worse) send expeditions beyond morella’s borders to hopefully find aid in the people only spoken of in stories and legends.

charlatans, arlan thought, there was no possible way that there could be a species of people more intelligent and more capable than his own.

eventually, one advisor of the dozens suggested encroaching on private land in the southeast - a place where the drought was suspected to have hit less. those lands were all privately owned because long ago, the land was gifted to brave men who served on the front lines of a war, but that was long enough ago that few remember it. besides, it’s already farming country, most of it. it’s been mostly forgotten. the idea was to take back the land, get the most fruitful harvest they could, and give the biggest rations to those in Whitetower - the home of all the nobles. the nobles wouldn’t care enough to check to see how the poorer parts of the nation were doing, and as long as their bellies were full, they would support arlan.

arlan agrees that the plan is engenius. so how do they decide to steal land from innocent, hard working farmers? by taxing them, of course!

so one day, kingsguard marches up to houses, declaring an emergency increase in taxes. when the struggling farmers inevitably fail to pay, they seize the property. and if anyone is to put up a fight, they’re jailed for their crime. there are a few “aggressive” farmers who put up a fight, and a few are killed or gravely injured. the crown manages to hush it up for the most part, and due to such aggression, they have reason to strip many others of their property.

it’s terrible, and a little prince named aerin sees what is happening and cries, one night. his brother baldur laughs and whispers “you’re just as weak as they are. i’d be careful you aren’t next.”

there is much unrest in the rural parts of the kingdom, and during this time, kade, his mother, his lame uncle, and a former neighbor move in with olinda’s family. together, they are resourceful enough to scrape up enough for the high taxes, and because their property has always been less fertile than those around them, they are overlooked.

for two years, the makeshift family survives, going to sleep without food in their bellies, selling their valuables and conserving as much as they can. no one knows when the drought is going to end, and until it’s truly over, they have to be careful.

kade’s uncle passes

one of olinda’s parents dies, something like pity for those who live on their face

when spring comes around again, it’s mostly dry. one night it rains, and olinda and kade dance in the downpour, ignoring their family telling them they’ll get sick.

it’s still a painfully dry season, and everything is dry enough that if it were to be lit on fire, the whole countryside would burn before you could make it to the river to get water.

during the day, the family works and the children are left to themselves - sometimes assigned menial tasks but mostly just left to roam with the strict warning to never step foot on a neighbor’s property. most of it belonged to king arlan, now, and if they were caught, they would lose a hand.... and perhaps something more.

olinda was mischievous, though, and kade was nothing if not the person to egg her on. together, they got very good at sneaking through the trees, using their own renditions of bird calls to play and tease the other.

one day, during their usual games, kade raced to olinda, cheeks blotchy, and told her he found an apple tree. olinda thinks it’s just another one of his tricks (“you’re always turning shadows into boogeymen and clouds into dragons.”) but kade insists.

“show me, then.”

“well...”

“see? i knew it was a lie.”

“it isn’t! it’s just... well, it’s on one of the king’s farm.”

“so?”

“you know we can’t get close to those farms!”

“you did if you saw apples.”

“well... they were sort of small. and definitely not ripe.”

“did you see them or not?”

“i did!”

“so you can take me back.”

“but, olinda—”

“kade, all of this land belonged to us before it belonged to them. those are our apples. besides, we’re not going to eat them - we’re just going to take a look.”

they decide to go after night fall. no one will be out in the fields that late at night, and their parent’s won’t know they’re gone.

but in true seven year old fashion, they don’t realize that it’s going to be too dark to actually see the apples from a distance.

olinda convinces kade to take them closer - onto the property so that he can prove they’re actually there.

when they get close enough to the tree to properly tell, kade’s stomach growls and olinda says they’ve already come this far - they might as well take some.

they take three apples and stop to eat them in the woods before they go home. the apples are terribly unripe and pitifully small, but they eat all three and lick their sticky hands clean. kade insists on planting the seeds, despite the drought, and so it’s well into the night by the time they start to make their way back home.

i believe it’s the light they saw first. the heat was already unbearable, that time of year, and the ash was too akin to dust and dirt for their young minds to reason.

when they saw the fire, kade was the first to run. he made it far on his spindly legs before a coughing fit overwhelmed him and he staggered backward.

their house and all their crops were on fire

burning before their eyes.

olinda was the first one to remember what their parents had always said, in case a fire should start. she pulled kade to the place where they were to wait - a wooded area that was far away enough to hopefully be safe, but close enough that they could watch their world burn to the ground.

their parents weren’t there, and for some reason, olinda thought that they would come

kade’s mother was probably just trying to pull on her shoes or something. they would meet them there - just like they always said they would.

olinda waited all night for them to come, even when kade knew they weren’t coming

part of her is still waiting.

farmers and the king’s guard were the ones to put out most of the fire, and for some reason, it rained that night - barely more than a sprinkle, but enough to dampen olinda and kade’s clothes and enough to calm smouldering ashes.

by that time, it was too late - the fire ravaged the area and much was lost. their house was burnt down, and some time in the morning, olinda and kade crawled back to its foundations, finding very little in its wake.

they ash stuck under their fingernails and collected in their throat. kade was coughing from how thick it was, and olinda rubbed his back, as though trying to ease the pain that ate at him.

who started the fire, olinda and kade would never know. bandits, some said, the hungry, thought others. some people even blamed the drought itself.

but aerin knew. he had heard his father and baldur speaking through a crack in the door about two families who they couldn’t oust from their land. they somehow managed to keep up with the tax - no matter how high they pushed it. they were survivors.

baldur (barely ten, at the time) expressed that everyone could be crushed, somehow. “can’t they just burn?” he had asked, with something dangerous in his eye.

arlan had thought for a moment, and eventually said something about how legend said a phoenix could rise from the ashes. perhaps the land could, too. he then patted his son’s head and left, a swish of furs and jewelry.

a nearby farmer went over to the burned ruins in the morning to make sure nothing was left burning, and when he found two kids, he put them in his cart and took them to riverbend - the failing town nearby.

he brought them into the pub, and the town christened two new orphans - nowhere children, they called them.

riverbend knew a lot of tragedies, and orphans with nothing to their name were called what they were - children who came from nowhere and were going the same.

the farmer couldn’t feed two more hungry mouths. neither could anyone else, for that matter. the pub owner said they could watch them for a week or two - then they’d become someone else’s problem.

kade seemed to be sick, after the fire. he was paler, feverish in the dreadful heat, and the bright look in his eye was fading.

it was olinda’s eighth birthday when someone new came to the pub. he was a weathered looking man - younger than he seemed and tired - the pub owner seemed to know him, and kade and olinda were introduced to him, not too long after his arrival.

he had been a nowhere child, once. he still was, really, with very little to his name. but he was working as a blacksmith and a farmhand at some place nearby. he didn’t have money for two kids - especially when one of them looked like a ghost - but he had a debt to pay forward. he figured this was the way to do it.

“but you’re going to earn your keep - you hear me?”

kade simply coughed

“i can earn it for the both of us.”

and the man nodded at olinda, something dark in his eyes “yeah, i reckon you can”

and olinda did well.

having lived on a farm her whole life, any task she needed to do was a quick study, and having been born from tragedy and drought, she was constantly working, used to the grime beneath her fingernails and the sweat that lingered on her brow.

olinda was strong and worked in the fields, and kade was smart and helped count money and barter with vendors in town. his sickness never really left him, it lingered in him always, but most days it wasn’t bad. he worked as best he could, but much fell on olinda’s shoulders.

when olinda was 9, the drought was over. four years later, and things were growing again. the taxes stayed high for a while, but at some point, word started to get out that arlan had suspiciously high taxes on certain farming regions, and whispers of when they were imposed started. arlan’s twin brother seemed to be currying favor with the king’s privy council.

the taxes lowered again.

fear didn’t leave the hearts of the farmers, though. they knew what had happened, and they knew how vulnerable they were. olinda and kade grew up alongside fear and ruin, and it would stick with them for the rest of their lives.

when olinda and kade were 10, kade’s sickness flared up again, this time far worse than anything olinda had ever seen.

riverbend had a name for this, too - ghost sickness. a way the dead damn the living for having survived when they shouldn’t have. a way the dead promised to claim kade soon.

but olinda had already lost too much to lose kade, too.

she worked all day - harder than before to account for kade’s lack of work - and at night, she would pretend to sleep but really stay up, listening to his coughs to see if they got worse, and making sure he was breathing, when he finally did fall asleep.

the townsfolk told kade stories during this time, and the bard in him was born. he was always a charismatic speaker, and now, with such fanciful tales... it wasn’t just pity that earned them free bread.

during this time, an anger festered in olinda. all of life was so cruel to her and kade. it took everything from them when they were so young, and now it threatened to take away what little she had fought so hard to build.

by 13, olinda would get into fights with other kids her age. they looked at her funny because she was a nowhere girl with a dying brother, and she was tired of it. she would give them a reason to respect her, if they needed it.

the farmer that had taken them in (and still cared for them, the three drifting here and there, wherever they could find work) found out.

he advised her to take out her anger on things other than people, but also taught her proper form. he told kade, once, when they thought olinda was asleep, that he knew that anger far too well - it was bound to come out, at some point.

by 15, kade began to get his strength back. he was still thinner and weaker than most, but he lost the pallor to his skin and he could hold a meal and get through a day of activity.

the farmer they lived with died when kade and olinda were 16, and once again, it was just the two of them.

olinda could do most everything by now - she was a decent blacksmith, a skilled farmhand, a fisher, a rudimentary carpenter, a fletcher, a leatherworker... kade joked that if she ever wanted to be a gladiator she could.

point is, she was decent at a lot of things, explaining why she was able to so easily pick up skills during the book.

kade, on the other hand, was an entertainer with the added skill of having an encyclopedic knowledge on random things (like, he knows what flora and fauna are safe to eat or he knows a crazy amount of geography and can use maps really well). he also knows elf and orc languages - all thanks to the people who would keep him company, at his bedside.

it’s a big superstition in morella that one of the few ways to wash away your sins is to appease the dying. they are close to the veil and if you visit them when are in between, they will remember you and give you blessings, later on.

kade also worked as a peddler for a while, selling things that olinda made while drifting from here to there. they traveled a bit between small towns, staying at pubs and inns. kade often charmed them a decent meal for cheap and at the end of the night, olinda got them kicked out for brawling.

they always came back to riverbend, though, never going far. despite not having a home, they seemed to be tethered to riverbend, like they had unfinished business, there.

personality/relationships:

as you can see, olinda is a little more.... pugnacious and rough around the edges than the actual mc for blades.

she’s seen how terrible this world is to the best of people, and she has had to bear the brunt of misfortune on her shoulders from very young. it’s only natural that she have some of that anger in her heart.

olinda may not believe in the goodness of the world, but she has hope for it, yet. that’s all because of kade’s stories - he would tell them to her every night and make her swear that she wouldn’t give up on the world, and at some point, olinda started to believe that maybe things weren’t so hopeless, after all. it was just their poor luck that landed them where they were.

this also means, though, that olinda is extremely caring and sensitive when it comes to those who are suffering. she would rather die than turn her back on someone in need, and this will put her in sticky situations over the course of her journey.

olinda doesn’t really see herself as a hero - she would like to save the world, but she has only ever been a nowhere child, and nowhere children don’t go anywhere. she thinks it would be amazing to do something grand - something that could change the world, but she truly doesn’t think herself capable

it takes a lot of prodding to get olinda to realize the weight of her actions and the possible outcome, and when she realizes that what she is doing could truly change the world, she has a hunger and thirst to prove herself.

olinda always gives 100% to whatever she’s doing, and it can often come at her detriment. when she’s given the chance to be more, she seizes it - damn the consequences.

olinda doesn’t have a lot of friends or close relationships - she has lost everyone who has ever gotten close, and part of her wonders, especially when kade looks sick, if it’s her. maybe she curses whoever comes near.

when olinda first meets nia she is baffled by her innocence. it’s not refreshing nor is it something that angers her - it’s just confusing. and maybe, at some point, olinda envies nia for her rosy view of the world. to nia, fire is just fire; it’s not a burning funeral pyre that haunts her dreams. to nia, sickness is just sickness; it’s not a vengeful ghost ripping away the one good thing she relies on. to nia, shadows are just shadows; they’re not something she has been running from ever since she was seven years old. olinda wants a bit of that. and maybe she’s worried that she will ruin nia, if they were to ever become closer than travel companions.

nia definitely teaches olinda the beauty in the world. kade taught olinda beauty in the past and the possible future, but he could never teach her to love the beauty of the present. nia does, slowly but surely. she shows her how things manage to grow, despite the world conspiring against them. she shows olinda how this world is still good, deep down. there is always light, with nia, and when she instills that view in olinda, it’s important.

when meeting mal, olinda immediately saw something of a kindred spirit - he was clearly damaged, too, this world against him from the beginning. they were both survivors looking for their family but while still being afraid of letting others close. although mal seemed to hide his damage better. instead of righteous fury, mal was ambivalent, and olinda wanted desperately to learn how he did it. olinda quickly learned though, that mal was an avoider - he didn’t let things roll over his shoulders, he jumped to the side before they could get to him. together, these two get some therapy and learn to take this world without letting it change them.

what i absolutely adore about their relationship is that they are both constantly teaching each other new skills. mal teaches olinda how to throw knives and how to be sneaky and she teaches him how to set traps or how to make a scabbard for his knives. they are constantly trying to one up each other by knowing how to do more things or being better at select skills, but it’s just friendly competition that keeps the other on their toes.

when it comes to tyril, olinda is less than enthused. these two had the hardest time getting along, and it all kinda stemmed from tyril being like,,,, “don’t slow me down” and olinda is like,,,,,, you invited yourself??? but also, i think that he reminds olinda a lot of the farmer that took her and kade in, so it’s a wound that tyril unwittingly hits. but also, tyril and olinda both know that the other is useful, and part of them knows to make a person who has the most potential of becoming a future enemy a friend, first, so that’s why they swallow their pride to reach out. they’re both headstrong, but they also both have deeper wounds, and that connects them. it’s like,,,,, i see you and i respect you, but if you weren’t on my side, i would not hesitate to end you.

i think that olinda and tyril eventually become great partners on the battlefield - they work in sync really well because they are both a little self sacrificing in their melee attack, and they are both fairly versatile. they definitely work well together, and they definitely teach each other patience. and don’t get me wrong - they have their soft, vulnerable moments together, but they’re too similar to be good for each other™

this leaves me to talk about imtura, who definitely vibes with olinda. they both do what they have to do, and while it infuriates olinda that imtura doesn’t open up much (she’s surrounded by kade and nia in the beginning, who are like - do you want to know my tragic backstory? i’ll tell you right now, even if you don’t want it. then, mal is willing to tell some parts, and tyril is just tyril. olinda is 90% sure that he doesn’t even have a past, he just has vague allusions. imtura just shutting her down right away because she doesn’t feel like it? blasphemy.) olinda respects imtura. they’re both self-made women trying to find their way through this world, and they both learn to really lean on each other.

funnily enough, olinda teaches imtura to let her soft side out. olinda “i will fight you if you so much as look at me wrong” teaches imtura to be vulnerable. it’s weird. but, olinda is big on emotions - harsh and vulnerable, so she teaches imtura to express those more. imtura teaches olinda when to let that anger simmer, without flying off the handle. think first, then pull out your axes. they do wonders for each other’s emotional maturity.

oh! i think i should mention aerin. at first, olinda is against aerin and baldur. she does NOT want to have to take care of two princes who have lived sheltered lives and are the reason she lost her family. however, it’s much easier to hate baldur and something about aerin reminds olinda of kade.... a smart, bookish boy who’s lonely and doesn’t mean much to anyone, in this world. the two definitely bond, (and while i chose some of the romance options just to see) they only become friends. it’s crushing when he betrays them, and for a moment, olinda is afraid that maybe when she finds kade, he’ll be the same.

random thoughts:

olinda has a fear of fire. her eyes follow it’s tongues very carefully and she’s always double checking that it gets put out. the company figures this out fairly early on, and nia is almost always the one to very pointedly put it out. the first time, she made a big show of it, and everyone laughed, but olinda thought it was very sweet.

it’s kind of a joke, now, that whenever anyone puts the fire out, they make some very pointed comment. olinda always rolls her eyes, but she won’t deny that she does sleep easier, now.

it’s 100% an inside joke between olinda and tyril that they make up the most outlandish constellations - all stemming back from that time they talked about kade making up constellations. tyril made up a constellation once while on the road, stretching his imagination to cheer up olinda. nia tried to (sweetly and carefully) correct tyril, but he insisted until olinda realized what he was doing and smiled. together, they’ve made up some pretty good ones, and when kade joins the group, he makes up stories for each constellation they make.

mal is a pickpocket, and one of the first things he ever taught olinda was that skill. they like to have little competitions to see who is the better pickpocket (tyril was the final level and the hardest to pickpocket), and at one point, the game changed to sneaking things into people’s pockets. mal slipped olinda a love letter once and it was vvv sweet. olinda will sometimes jokingly mock him for it, but we all know she enlisted kade to help her write one back.

imtura and olinda spar! they do it all the time, and even though imtura wins most of the time, they both maintain that it’s a tie - they’re both too good.

also, olinda 100% makes imtura a new gauntlet - it’s a collaborative process. imtura chose what she wanted it to look like and what materials she wanted and olinda made it for her, trying to teach imtura, but imtura was terrible at it.

olinda has long hair, and nia taught her how to do really intricate braids. my girl used to just tie it up into a bun or ponytail, getting all kinds of tangles. nia was rightfully appalled and taught olinda how to braid her hair nicely.

the whole company has definitely braided each other’s hair.

the only one allowed to touch imtura’s hair is nia, and tyril would rather die than let mal touch his hair, but all of them know how to braid hair and you cannot tell me that they haven’t helped each other tie their hair back before going into battle

tyril is the worst at telling stories, and it’s a joke within the whole company. whenever they’re all hanging out after dinner, they tell stories and at least one person tries to tell a story terribly, seeing if they can do it worse than tyril

at first this super annoyed tyril, but now he will correct people’s terrible stories, making them even worse by revising the story and cutting out entire chunks or just interrupting them, saying the premise is already too interesting.

the exact opposite happens with mal - his stories are all incredibly detailed, but they’re all the same

the company tries to make a “mal story” that checks off all the cliches

contessa?

poorly timed winks?

a daring escape that is 100% fake?

an increasingly large diamond?

a charming disguise?

nia is actually really good at coming up with the most outlandish stories. mal is very proud.

speaking of nia, this woman did not know how to cook. imtura teaches her, and it’s actually really sweet. everyone thought nia was going to get queasy at gutting a fish, but she was oddly okay with it.

imtura gets really connected to her culture later on, so the whole company knows orcish sayings and the know a lot of the customs. it’s very sweet.

olinda is actually really bad at flirting, so mal is constantly trying to give her “tips” which is really just an excuse to hit on her. tyril hates it, nia is slightly scandalized, and imtura joins in on the fun.

olinda is actually scarily good at deception, though, and she teaches nia, which scares the whole company.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @missameliep // message me if you want to be added!

22 notes · View notes

oscar-lime · 3 years

Text

Evil Oz / Salem reincarnates AU?

I'm not super sure what to call it yet... info under the cut because I've been planning this one for awhile now.

Feel free to ask me any questions about it!

• The rules for immortality are different. Salem maybe ends up in a soul different from hers that is meant to help her learn and grow. Maybe Ozpin has to live forever to learn a certain lesson as well (trust? Honesty? Just based on something he is known for doing wrong... I'm not sure on this one yet.)

• Instead of a merge, the more dominant soul in the body will eventually gain most of the control. The other will start to struggle to be in control at all until they are just a voice in the back of the other's mind.

• Salem took control of most of her lives by force... she hated not being in control. Oscar was her youngest host, and she ended up thinking back on her children... so she is now trying to make sure he is himself, and trying to make sure he ends up the body's main soul for a change. Even a heartless monster sometimes feels bad when she realizes her next life is a child.

• Oscar can control grimm, but it takes time and practice. Salem's magic is also extremely powerful, so he struggles to hold it in now since he does not know how to control it at all. (She just really wants him to hit the point where he can control the hound.)

• When using Salem's power to control grimm, Oscar's veins temporarily turn red/black (it's a gradient of both colors)

• "Hello Oscar, I'm Salem. Now leave this sad little farm and go to my castle." "*loud screaming*"

• Hazel is the one to realize Oscar is the next Salem. He has her inner circle. She gained them in slightly different ways in her past lives.

Hazel: Ozma sent his sister into another kingdom, then staged her death and made it appear to be a murder to cause conflict between the kingdoms.

Tyrian: Salem wanted someone ready to kill and cause destruction when she needed it. So she offered him the opportunity to kill whenever he wanted (as long as he followed her orders and didn't kill any of her allies.. she always provides him with grimm or prisoners to harm) and for her to hide him away from the law.

Watts: He could make whatever he wanted and she would provide the materials, but in return he had to help her with technology anytime she requested.

Cinder: She was offered revenge. Salem explained what huntsman and huntresses truly are to her, and offered to help her become strong enough to take revenge on the ones who ignored her when she needed help the most.

Emerald, Mercury, and Neo all still followed Cinder.

Roman was actually hired by Ozma for that whole thing with the trains, along with Adam and the White Fang. Ozma chose to destroy his school like that KNOWING it would cause conflict.

• Ozma is immortal. His inner circle is not actually aware of what he is planning. He wants to watch humanity tear itself apart.

• Of course even if they learn of Salem's existence and unite, it still benefits him since they would be fighting against her, and he could use the tension to draw in more grimm and doubt between the nations

• Oz is ALWAYS subtly feeding Ironwood's paranoia. He hopes James will cause a war for him amongst humanity.

• STRQ originally, like every other huntsman and huntress, believed they were doing good. They had no idea Ozpin had been manipulating all of humanity and the academies just to do his bidding. Some "criminals" are truly innocent. They just stood against Oz in someway so they were wanted dead or alive. If he gets them alive he makes sure to make them regret even daring to stand against him... and of course he doesn't want word spreading.

• Raven left when she found out Ozma's true intentions.

• Tai just settled down with his family and is staying out of it. He figures he has time before the world ends, Ozma can't work that fast right? His kids would totally have time to grow up. (He was heartbroken hearing them say they want to go to Beacon)

• Summer actually discovered Ozma's plans, and was killed for trying to fight against him. She wasn't aware of Salem, so she stood up to him on her own.

• Qrow couldn't believe Oz was bad, not after everything he'd done for them. So he stayed around. Ozma has his inner circle tricked into believing he is saving the world.

• Oz still gave out his magic. Two watchbirds are very helpful after all. The maidens are human, the potential they have to cause chaos and destruction is amazing! Plus then the relics are hidden, so Salem CAN'T summon the gods.

• Jaune died. Pyrrha found out something was fishy when she was supposed to be getting the maiden powers, so she got out of the transfer machine with her semblance when she and Jaune realized. She started out fighting Ozpin, but Jaune ended up taking her place because he had the big shield and told her to go warn the others about what was going on.

• So after the fall the group still travels on, just now they want to get the relics AWAY from Oz and to a safe place. They join up with Oscar + Salem's crew eventually

The lamp is the reason Qrow turns against Oz. When they ask what he is hiding the backstory reveals how he began to hate humanity with time, and the joy he took in watching them fight and destroy each other. Qrow is shattered by the truth since he was supposed to be the one hunting the kids down, but he then decides he has to protect them... and apologizes for not believing them.

Oz still has the upper hand though. Salem only has the fall maiden (the one with the hardest to find relic anyway), some henchmen, and a bunch of children. Oz has humanity already starting to argue and nations not trusting one another, plus the academies at his command. Atlas is going nuts because Ironwood is much more paranoid since Oz has been feeding into that.

• Leo did actually still have connections to Salem. His family was sent to live in her castle for their protection, and in return he snuck her team into Beacon. She gave the orders in her old vessel from her castle. But she made her way there around the fall because she wanted her team out safely. It's not always easy for her to find new minions after all, and she didn't want to lose the fall maiden.

• She had a team in the school to try and figure out what Oz is planning, exactly how he tricks the students, and where the relic might be hidden.

• Leo ends up killed by Qrow (poor bird man), as he is one of Ozma's most loyal followers before he turns and considers what Leo did a horrible betrayal.

The Atlas arc goes EXTREMELY different. Penny is sent to actually hunt down RWBY and co at first, but when she sees it's them she doesn't fight them very hard. She doesn't want to take them... they get away, and encounter her again when they head to Pietro for Maria's eyes. She prepares to fight them, but Maria and Pietro quickly stop both sides. After a long explanation of everything, Pietro and Penny are on their side (since Pietro already could see something was fishy just from his work on the inside)

The happy huntresses recongnize the main cast as fugitives right away and absolutely love them. They weren't sure what these kids did, but placed more blame for the main groups criminal status on authority instead of the kids. The group was happy to have allies to stay with and work with behind Ironwoods back.

Monstra pulls up (Atlas was raised, unfortunately) and RWBY, NOPR, and Qrow are like "Yeah that... that is our ride."

There was definitely still some bloodshed in Atlas. Qrow almost convinced Clover of the truth... buuuut then Tyrian happened and Qrow had the same reaction...

Now the group can't leave Atlas because Mantle is struggling and Qrow and Robyn got arrested.

Oscar is kidnapped by Ozma. He is trying to learn what Salem is planning, where she is hiding the relic of knowledge, and where she is keeping now her two maidens. Out of Oz's inner circle, he chooses to trust Glynda to do the right thing since for obvious reasons, Hazel is not torturing him this time around.

Oscar's outfit is different this time. Orange is his main color, so he keeps the orange. Maybe he gets some sort of cape, but with long sleeves for the cold he tosses over his farmer outfit. He could be influenced by Salem since she is a part of him without realizing and maybe change the gloves to red, and have some red (or red and orange) on his cape. I'm not sure the exact colors yet. Basically though his little cape thing is a jacket that just... doesn't really go past the sleeves. It was the only thing I could think of that wasn't just another hood, and the cape seemed fitting because of Salem's subtle influence. (Oscar does not want to kill people, Salem has no problem killing people. She will forcibly take control of him if she feels he is in danger.)

Silver eyes work a bit differently here. They are basically angels, and their power works best on grimm. However, if they begin to truly believe a human is just as bad as a monster or see them in the same light (even without realizing) they can do a bit of damage to them as well (Maybe turn a bit of them to stone, blast off part of them, badly burn them, etc.).

#please go easy on me if i missed anything... this is the first time i put so much work into an au so i definitely would have missed things #rwby au #evil ozpin #evil ozma #is that a better tag?#rwby #oscar pine #oscar pine au #rwby volume 8 #rip jaune #sorry this is a bit hard to read... it's long and i just pasted it here

24 notes · View notes

antoine-roquentin · 4 years

Link

An array of UN agencies is predicting a global hunger pandemic triggered by COVID-19 lockdowns, with the head of the World Food Program stating that there is “a real danger that more people could potentially die from the economic impact of COVID-19 than from the virus itself.”[1] At least 10 million more Latin Americans are expected to join the 3.4 million who were already experiencing chronic food insecurity.[2] These devastating effects will be long-term, as each percentage point drop in global GDP is expected to cause 0.7 million more children to be stunted from undernutrition.[3] There are clear signs that the food shortages have already arrived, as flags indicating hunger are spotted outside homes from Colombia to the Northern Triangle of Central America,[4] while violently repressed hunger protests have occurred in places such as Honduras[5] and Chile.[6] As a street vendor in El Salvador put it, “If the virus doesn’t kill us, hunger will.”[7]

But in the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, there are no hunger flags flying. The market stalls are stocked, customers are buying, and prices are stable. Nicaraguan small farmers produce almost all the food the nation consumes, and have some left over for export. We will examine how this is possible....

In the 1980s, the Nicaraguan revolutionary government launched a massive land reform program, which distributed about half the country’s arable land (5 million acres) to 120,000 peasant families. Several other peasant groups formed during that first decade of the revolution as the cooperative farming movement prospered, even coming to include the families of former contra fighters, who had been adversaries of the Sandinista government. Later, during the neoliberal administrations of 1990-2006, these groups worked to defend the gains of the revolution, sometimes including worker occupations of state farms to prevent them from being privatized. By 2006, and inspired by the 1987 Constitution that guarantees protection against hunger,[16] some 73 Nicaraguan organizations belonged to the Interest Group for Food and Nutritional Sovereignty and Security (GISSAN) that was advocating for a Food Sovereignty Law. Several of them helped the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) get elected back into office at the end of that year.[17]

In the current stage of Sandinista governance that started in 2007, the strategy to increase food sovereignty by providing land has continued. Almost 140,000 land titles (some from land distributed during the 1980s land reform) were issued to small producers from 2007 to 2019. Women have particularly benefited from receiving proper titles to their land (55 percent) and 304 indigenous and Afro-descendant communities on the Caribbean coast have received collective titles. The titled area amounts to 37,842 Km2, or 31.16 percent of the national territory.[18]

Social programs that help small farmers feed themselves and their communities have imbued life in the countryside with dignity while reducing hunger. These initiatives are inspired by Augusto C. Sandino’s vision of an economy based on land-owning peasants and indigenous peoples farming in organized cooperatives—a core component of the FSLN’s Historic Program. Law 693 on Food and Nutritional Sovereignty and Security, enacted in 2009, was one of the first in Latin America to recognize the concept of food sovereignty and actually build it with government support.[19] The commitment of the FSLN government to food sovereignty has led to dozens of programs to improve the livelihoods and autonomy of small farmers while strengthening local food systems.

The signature initiative is the Hambre Cero (Zero Hunger) program which began in 2007 and provides pigs, cows, chickens, plants, seeds, and building materials to women in rural areas to diversify their production, improve the family diet, and strengthen women-led household economies.[20] By 2016, the program had benefited 150,000 families or 1 million people, increasing both their food security and the nation’s food sovereignty.

63 notes · View notes

the-overgrowth · 4 years

Text

Retrospective: “Faybane” #1

This is where it all started, on July 8th, 2016. Although probably a bit earlier than that, but this is the earliest thing I can find that’s actually written down, so that’s what counts. And back in the day I didn’t let ideas marinate the way I do now, I just started writing pretty much as soon as I got the idea.

Anyway, the document was created at this point in time according to Google Docs, and was last modified in October 3rd, 2016. It’s only 3 chapters long, plus one incomplete fourth chapter, and the whole thing is about 17k words.

Which is a lot for 3 chapters. I would say something about how I’m less wordy now, but the latest draft is like 107k words long, so, like, I will always struggle with shutting the fuck up, methinks.

Also, the reason this is called “Faybane” is because that was the working title I used, and the name of this document. I thought it’d be the proper title but like. It’s bad lmao.

Anywhomst, let’s get into it!

Some background info for those who are new or need a refresher: this WIP became a thing after I read and was disappointed by A Court of Thorns and Roses by SJM, as well as The Iron King by Julie Kagawa and some book by Holly Black, was it Tithe?

ACOTAR was the biggest culprit. I feel that this is important to keep in mind as we go through this mess.

We open on Sidra in the forest with a bunch of men she calls a hunting party. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be there, but since she’s the only decent hunter among them and it’s her sister’s wedding today, she has to make the kill to feed the people attending said wedding.

This is, as the kids say, big stupid, and seems like a very ill-prepared celebration? I guess it makes some sense for them to want fresh meat, but this fresh? What if they didn’t find anything? What if they didn’t manage to kill anything? Is the whole thing cancelled? Stupid.

We find out they’ve been hunting a boar and that this dude named Liam, our Gaston replacement, previously wounded the animal but didn’t kill it, causing it to flee and force the hunting party to follow. It’s up to Sidra to make the killing blow, which she does with an arrow straight into its head. This was back when Sidra was still YA Heroine Extraordinaire and the time period was Vaguely Medieval, I guess.

They begin taking their quarry back home and Sidra thinks about how she normally doesn’t hunt this close to the “Faewilds” because animals closer to the border are said to be bigger and more violent. There isn’t an actual border, people just had to rely on intuition and not wander too far into the forest.

She also mentions a girl named Wilda, who disappeared fairly recently and everyone suspects it was the fae. This isn’t relevant now, but Wilda will return in later drafts, I think.

Everybody, especially my family, knew that I was one of the best archers in town, whether I used a bow or a crossbow.

Shut up, Not!Feyre. Nobody likes you.

I should mention that at this point I didn’t bother googling how big wild boars get and just assumed they were the size of like, a thick medium dog. Which is, if you know how big boars are, very incorrect. Four men pulling the animal seems realistic enough, but then Liam just lifts it up on his own? Not buying it.

Sidra laments how much she hates Liam and we find out that he apparently tried to assault her and she stabbed him? And apparently she’s not happy about his marriage to Sinéad but can’t do anything about it because “Father’s word is law” and Sinéad herself laughed it off when Sidra tried to warn her?

Yeah, gonna call bullshit on that one. No idea why this was here or what purpose it serves, the reason Liam doesn’t exist in the latest draft is because I never figured out what his purpose was so I axed him entirely.

Current!Sidra would just kill him the moment he showed an interest in Sinéad, and Current!Sinéad would 100% believe her sister about something like that.

Some bloke named Connor strikes up a conversation with Sidra, seemingly worried about being this far away from human civilization. Liam teases him about it and calls the fae “knife-ears”, because I still had brainrot back then and liked Dragon Age and had zero original ideas in my head.

The men make jokes about having sex with fae women and Sidra seems so disturbed by this that she nocks an arrow. This isn’t the first time she makes references to feeling unsafe around these men, I have no idea why I wrote it this way aside from being edgy, I guess.

My village was mostly populated by men, and even though I wasn’t one of the pretty girls there, I knew these men weren’t picky, even with all their talk about beautiful fae women. I’d heard that fae women would kill their men after sleeping with them. I had no way of know it was true, but a part of me hoped it was and that Liam would some day soon get “lucky” and encounter a female fae, so she could end his misery.

Edgy, dude.

They eventually arrive and Sidra goes inside her house, which is a simple cottage with three rooms. I think her family are all farmers? It’s kind of confusing. She goes into her and Sinéad’s bedroom, where Sinéad is preparing for her wedding. Also, she’s blonde.

“Sid! There you are!” she said cheerily. “Killed a boar, huh? Good on Liam for taking all the credit.”

If you know your man is trash, why are you marrying him?

Apparently Liam seduced Sinéad with sweets and baked goods. I mean ... fair enough. Considering how Sidra complains about being hungry and skinny and going without food if she doesn’t kill the boar because this year’s harvest was minimal, I’m assuming y’all are starving.

We find out Sinéad’s mother doesn’t let her do anything around the house or farm, to preserve her “soft and white” hands and pale complexion so she could be married off easily. This makes zero sense, you’d think these medieval men wouldn’t have the same beauty standards as Victorian England, plus having a mouth to feed that doesn’t even help feeding itself is just nuts.

But remember, this isn’t Sidra, this is Not!Feyre. She needs to be sad and put-upon and a victim. She explains how she was never pretty to begin with and thus nobody considered her to be worthy of marrying off, which then meant she was put to work and became even less attractive because now she was so cool and badass that all the men were intimidated by her.

Yeah, in a village that already doesn’t have a lot of young women? I’m not buying this, lmao. But go off, Not!Feyre.

I’d been the one helping around, instead. Hunting, mostly. Sometimes I’d chop wood or work the farm. Marrying out of the house seemed impossible. Marrying up was practically a dream you forgot upon waking. Had I been pretty from the start there would’ve been a foundation to work from, but I was a lost cause even before my skin became tan and my hands grew veined and calloused. I had freckles which people mistook for mud and dull brown eyes, a long nose that had been broken one time too many and a mouth that made it look like I constantly felt a bad smell no matter what facial expression I made. I’d always been of rather short stature and had brown hair and thick eyebrows, which in combination with everything else made my parents call me their “little goblin”. The scar on my face didn’t help me either: men didn’t like it when their women were more battle-hardened than they were.

Oh god please, don’t go off! We don’t care! Stop going off!

Also what fucking parents call their poor kid a goblin? Yikes.

Sinéad convinces Sidra to get prettied up and Sidra is all “oh I bet all the men will just fall over themselves for my favor now huh” which is just the most annoying fucking thing, prompting Sinéad to respond:

“Well, winter is coming and game is scarce. If they want to survive, marrying the best hunter in the village might be a good bet.”

Yeah! This is correct! I refuse to believe people wouldn’t be into Sidra! Not only does everyone apparently know she’s the best hunter in town, but Sidra herself confirmed the men here outnumber the women and aren’t very picky.

This is fucking stupid. I’m glad I axed it. In my defense, I was very much trying to emulate the YA shit I’d read so far.

Sidra’s grandmother enters the stage. She’s very old in this draft, but otherwise unchanged.

She was a short and wrinkled old lady with extremely bad vision and an even worse grasp on reality. Or maybe an extremely acute grasp on reality, depending on whether you believed her stories or not.

Sidra changes out of the dress again to go out and help her father prepare the boar, all while sulking.

I didn’t envy Sinead, nor any other bride. Despite what most people thought of me, I wasn’t some poor ugly girl longing for the love of a man and the security of marriage. Did I enjoy the idea of having somebody care for me? Sure. But it wasn’t on my list of priorities. I was still trying to figure out what actually was on that list. Not that it mattered. The prospects for a poor village girl were very finite.

Womp womp.

We get some confusing and barely related stuff about Sidra possibly becoming a royal hunter for the king and also about where the village is located in relation to the Faewilds. She speculates that maybe the fae aren’t real, but the way she and everyone else talks about them makes it pretty obvious that they are? This was supposed to build mystery, I guess.

We skip forward to the wedding and Sidra is moping again.

“How are you feeling?” Father asked and squeezed my shoulder.

I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. I assumed it had something to do with the wedding and the fact that despite there being fewer women than men here, I was still not asked to dance. Though this didn’t really bother me, so I just shrugged.

“It doesn’t bother me. Anyway I will continue to mope and feel bitter about this thing that doesn’t bother me.” Hunny ...

At least Current!Sidra has the self-awareness to admit she’s sad and lonely.

[Father’s] marriage to Sinead’s mother was never out of love, more out of necessity. It was easier when you had a big family.

Except for when this “big family” is 3 people who work and 2 people who are just being fed, right? See, I knew back then that having a big family helps when you have a farm, but I also needed to make Sidra Special so Sinéad had to sit on her ass to highlight how pretty and feminine she was or whatnot.

Bleh.

They talk a bit about Sidra’s mother, who passed away five years ago, and Sidra reminisces about how she used to tell amazing stories. It’s all very ... whatever, and serves only to make this point for the hundredth time:

I wasn’t like Mother. I wasn’t full of life and spirit like her. I wasn’t loved and respected by the entire village like her. I was just her disappointing child whose existence they’d rather forget except when they wanted something killed.

Right after this there’s a really abrupt scene transition. Nothing about the wedding coming to an end, nothing about her going to bed, it’s just ... some while later?

Sidra’s father comes back home from ??? and tells Sidra he saw a stag somewhere, but it was hours ago so she better get a move on.

I’m not sure what either of them thinks this will accomplish? Like ... what is she gonna do with it when she kills it ... Carry it home? On her little boney ass? Hmm? I guess I didn’t think of that because I had meta knowledge that she wouldn’t get it home either way, so who cares about logic, right?

Sidra kills two rabbits while stalking the deer, and despite telling us earlier that she doesn’t venture far away from human civilization and the boar hunting being the farthest she’d been and that she wouldn’t go this far alone, she has no issue dwelling very deep into the forest this time.

Like. Henlo? Can we have one logic please and thanks you? Granted, she keeps stopping every now and then to Feel Things Out, but this really goes against how careful she was before and at no point do we get an explanation to her sudden boldness. Plot reasons, I guess.

She nearly stumbles into fae territories and finally decides to head back, except when she starts returning, she sees the stag she’s been tracking. It’s abnormally huge and has a “dark brown” coat that she finds odd, but of course she’s too stupid to connect the dots.

She sneaks up on it and honestly? This chapter ending still slaps.

A scream of pain left the creature and I saw it topple. But though my arrow hit a deer, a man fell to the ground.

DUN DUN DUN.

And yeah, the ACOTAR roots rear their ugly heads again. I liked the idea of the protagonist shooting a fae disguised as an animal, but I decided to cut out the middleman and just have her obliterate Val right in chapter one. Don’t worry, he doesn’t die.

#retrospective #my writing

5 notes · View notes

lovedthestars-toofondly · 4 years

Text

and the thing is —

the thing is, Gaelic was pushed back and defamed and ignored and prohibited, and there are still people who view bilingual road sign as a waste of money

the thing is, Scots isn't even universally RECOGNISED as a language, frequently gets derided as incomprehensible, children who spoke it were sent to elocution lessons as recently as the 90s

the thing is, highland peasants were evicted from their farms and their houses burnt down, sometimes the other way round, so that the landlords could breed sheep that would eat up ecosystems that dated all the way back to the last ice age

the thing is, in the 19th century tartan suddenly became fashionable and people from down south suddenly got really keen on coming up to kill a few animals over the weekend

but if a local did it to feed their family, that was poaching

the thing is, this cluster of cultures got ridiculed and vilified and put down until it barely remembered itself, and then people came along, mushed together the remnants, tied a tartan bow around and began selling it for a fortune

but the other thing is —

the coast was full of thriving harbour cities, speaking Scots, sometimes even English, full of philosophers who wrote down their Enlightened ideas in Latin

the other thing is, those harbours and merchants became rich by robbing colonised nations and peoples, so rich they named streets after the places they plundered and the people who plundered them

those streets still bear the same names today

the other thing is, part of why Scotland agreed to the Act of Union in 1707 was a lot of people had invested a lot of money in colonising Darién, Central America, and the colony had failed, and the money was gone

the other thing is, labourers who came over from Ireland were often enough still treated like dirt

the other thing is, tourism is one of the most important industries in modern-day Scotland

and I keep thinking about those highland farmers who were chased off their land under threat of death, and then went over to Turtle Island, to try their luck at homesteading, and so they took the land from Natives who had

and some got rich off it and some died poor, and

the point is

I guess

that history is messy and complicated and infinitely interesting

so next time I tell someone that I live in Scotland, and they tell me how much they loved Outlander

pardon if I get a little

exasperated

#crow talks #scotland #no idea how to tag this #late night rambles #violence mention #genocide mention #apologies for any incorrect information #please do let me know

4 notes · View notes

shattered-catalyst · 4 years

Note

♡ + family

Headcanon Meme:: or in the OC verse...This shit is Canon

//accepting

Family and Catalyst are a very complex and twisting topic that often times contradicts itself as he grows . Unfortunately he never had the Cadre Alliance to help him out ( or use him cough) but he also didnt have Xforce or anyone else in his corner. Hes been doing this all solo and thats why hes...An absolute counter intuitive wreck.

Sooo heres a write up since Im in pain and need something to focus on

tw for mentions of abuse,neglect, underage alcohol consumption, and all around Mojoworld Shittiness. If you know much about Mojoworld you know this is literally portrayed in canon I did not make this shit up okay i swear.

So Mojoworld doesnt have family units as we have them. There are no parents and there are seldom children. Children are in a tube being fed videos of violence and bloodshed (canon), they are taken out when they are capable of independent locomotion (something the spineless ones find absolutely disgusting. tune in next time for me to talk about how deep catalyst’s self loathing and self image and concept is affected by this).

Prior to this they are given a purpose and destination; entertainment- bands,singing, stunts,etc, servents, builders, farmers and harvesters, gladiators, and pets. Yes yes that is canon and yes I hate i had to write that.

Catalyst was ‘born’ Isaslan III and placed in the gladiator class to ensure peak anxiety +complex stress to make sure his mutation would activate. But he was also place in intense gameshow and survival show like programming during the off season to try and further speed up his mutation because Mojo is impatient.

Mojo is the godhead, the master programmer, all things lay in his hands.He places the young into units and has them train together in combat with more seasoned gladiators as their trainers. Each creche has a strict pecking order and depending on the personalities of those involved and their trainers the creche is either combative and competitive over their resources or co-operative.

Isaslan III had a co-operative creche, he just was rarely with them when they all weren’t exhausted so he didn’t get much in the way of interaction. When he did it definitely made up for it.

The gladiator class all refers to an internally reinforced honor system and they call each other intimate terms ‘brother’ ‘sister’ ‘friend’ are all used (canon). But it is more of a kinship with suffering and survival than with each other.

Isaslan III would consider them family if he had been with them a bit longer. But after his second season he was taken from the creche (most of his ‘siblings’ had since been killed in combat and only 5 of the original 12 remained) and taken to the more seasoned area all as part of Mojos plan to force a premature mutation. This was his first lost family.

Isaslan III didnt meet anyone else he would consider having a ‘family’ or any sort of bond with. Unless we consider the parasite like way Mojo and Arize both used him. Nah, not until Earth and god it just gets worse.

Here we have an alien who basically treats the world like GTA or any other simulation because Fuck if he knows if this is REAL or not and he doesnt know what LAWS are or how to read or ANYTHING and what does he land in? A fucking bar.

This is the second fucked up ‘family’ like situation he lands in. A bunch of adults who think the mutant kid who ‘likes’ to fight is ‘funny’ and they give him so much alcohol whenever his mutation acts up and it just goes spiraling downhill from there Once he realizes this is all..A big joke he moves on but hes sworn off the idea of finding ‘family’ or anything like that.

Especially because his ideas are all based on modern cinema. Like he has 0 concepts outside of cinema and fucked up life experiences.

He doesnt consider his mutant town folks family, hes pushed family away as being something he isnt worthy of because it just isnt possible for him, or so he thinks,. He maintains a very distant, cold attitude whenever anyone pries too much or he feels hes becoming dependent on someone.

It makes therapy a bitch and trying to make friendships that seem, full, is extremely difficult. Instead he feels chronically acting and never actually genuinely connecting with others. He gravitates towards others like this; Laura (x-23) being an amazing example of this.

He falls into roles faster when he is older or more powerful than another person ie:” Livvy, Gabby, in some cases Laura (Logan Verse). He is invested in keeping them alive and caring for them but it can be very robotic at times and very much at odds with what is acceptable in terms of safety because hes taking what he learned in Gladiator school, in his creche and mashing it up with modern movies and yes he did try and teach Livvy how to kill someone with a lollipop okay yeah he did.

So the thought of having donors? aka: parents? Terrifies him beyond reason. Hes been raised to believe he can do nothing but fail them, and has it hammered in his head from one too many conversations with Mojo that they will kill him on sight for his own loses in the arenas.

Despite all that hes sorta...Really wanting parents. He really wants that support and guidance in his life. But itll take two years of intense therapy for him to cut the ‘i do not have fathers I have donors’ walls hes built up around himself.

His guilt and shame feed into Mojo’s brainwashing all to form a damning concoction that makes even considering reaching out to ricto.r or shatt.erstar almost impossible.

Though when i do get to write with these characters Catalyst’s curious and inquisitive nature ALWAYS gets the better of him and his progression actually speeds up a bit. TBH I genuinely miss those threads since it really strips all the characters defenseless and sometimes its so AWKWARD and its GREAT.

You can see him playing along with the role when with someone like Fabian Cortez where he willingly falls into a fake family dynamic, knowing full well fabian is manipulating him but he just doesnt care and is too depressed and he just wants to know even if its a lie what thats like. His early life on mojoworld prepared him to act like an idiot under the nose of arrogant men. He knows what hes doing and he has accepted the price this fake family costs him.

Still for Catalyst to genuinely feel like he has a family or to be a part of one will take years for him to build solid strong connections with others and probably a mini series or spin off or two where he gets to play supporting roles for them.

4 notes · View notes

ladyyatexel · 5 years

Text

Clear Creek and My Grandfather

So here is a story.

This is me with Pap-Pap and Grandmother (yes, we call her ‘Grandmother’, and her children call her ‘Mother’) at Clear Creek State Park when I was a much smaller human. Grandmother is Kaye’s daughter, and the person whose house emptying has resulted in me getting all these photos. This was the photo I wanted when I went to Grandmother’s house. Pap-Pap died after a very short but very potent stint with early onset Alzheimers in 2012, and he and Grandmother were a big part of my childhood, so this photo was something I wanted in particular.

Clear Creek is a place my family has been coming since before I was born. My Grandparents discovered it sometime in the 70s when attempting to take their kids camping and they went back at every opportunity since. I don’t remember a time when Clear Creek was a first time, because I was brought there every summer since I started existing as far as I know. It’s a precious place. I try to take people I really love there, and they all later confess they were not expecting it to be as wonderful as it is. It’s a good place. It’s full of inside jokes and stories and experiences for almost 40 years for us. I went on egg hunts here, first heard Monty Python songs here. My brother learned to ride a bike. A friend and I came up with some of our most beloved original stories.

Clear Creek is also the site of a former Civilian Conservation Core Camp, and it’s why the place exists as a park with cabins - the cabins are the ones the company stayed in. There’s a little museum inside the park dedicated to the men who worked there and what they did in the 1930s that also doubles as a little nature museum. Some of the dusty things in that museum are memories as precious as the place itself.

The state’s website for Clear Creek seems to know just how magical it and its old bridges are:

The nearby Farmer’s Inn Restaurant and... Gift Shop/Petting Zoo/Ice Cream Stand/Furniture Store/Mini Golf is just as well loved by anyone who goes to Clear Creek. It’s standard American Country Buffet stuff, really, but it had a charm to it that made it well loved. My friend Amy also accidentally fed a muntjac from her hand thinking it was a baby deer. “Oh, cool, Amy’s feeding the fanged thing!” is still a fondly remembered cry from that visit.

Here’s some of the inside. They decorated with a lot of items from the CCC Museum in Clear Creek to help with the rustic historic feel.

So hopefully I’ve made some kind of impression of how tightly woven into the fabric of us this place is.

Sometime in the early 2000′s, my grandparents were sitting in this restaurant and got seated in a place they’d never been before, very likely at the table nearest us in this photo, and they were looking at the photos on the wall. In a group of young CCC guys posing with some cars and other equipment, my grandfather recognized his biological father who had been killed in a car accident when he was only 4 or 5.

Pap-Pap and Grandmother notified the manager, who was happy to loan them the photo to make copies when she heard that Pap-Pap’s biological father had helped build the place Pap-Pap’s entire family loved and felt so tied to for so any years.

This was a photo I was equally obsessed with finding when Grandmother’s house was emptied. I wondered if it really was what they thought, if they were just seeing what they wanted to. I had no idea she had other photos of him, I had no idea she had his discharge paperwork from his work at Clear Creek, and that that guy looking a little mischievous second from the left-most was really who Pap-Pap thought he was. But here’s the back of the paperwork listing it just as much as the front (with all his personal info) does. He wasn’t in the CCC for long, but he was in Clear Creek after he enrolled Maryland.

I found (and repaired) this tiny photo of him in my grandmother’s things:

And these of my Pap-Pap (which haven’t been cleaned or adjusted):

Those are some of my favorites of Pap-Pap, I don’t know why he looks like he’s starring in a Noir, but I just really love them. I’d been eager to find a good set of photos to compare resemblance and these seem appropriate. Many years ago, in a trip to Canada, a man walked by my grandfather and greeted him by his birth last name. They didn’t know each other, and the guy just kept walking, but I’ve always wondered about the resemblance since I heard that story.

Until a few years ago, this was kind of where the story neatly tied up. Yay, family discovers they have a biological tie to a place they love dearly and found accidentally and now they have documented proof.

But, in 2017, the Farmer’s Inn burned down. Really burned down. Nothing at all left burned down. (Petting zoo animals all safe!)

They’ve rebuilt, and they’re open for business, but I haven’t been there. Not yet.

But I feel like I have to go, even if just to return a copy of a copy of a photo they happened to seat my grandparents next to 15 years ago.

#ye olde family photo adventure #clear creek

26 notes · View notes

lacomandante · 5 years

Photo

anyways im too lazy to make fancy edits and gifs right now BUT. I just fuckin LOVE post war life with the moreno sharpe family okay i have so many caps and screenshots saved of their films just to like make edits or help visualize for fic and things. they’re just so domestic and stupidly happy OKAY?

the chickens were the first farm animal they bought for their little farm in talavera. the farmer was selling four hens and a rooster but they couldnt leave the rooster by itself and teresa felt bad and bought it. BUT JOKE’S ON HER it was the most horrific sounding rooster that sounds like it smoked 40 tons of turkish tobacco and is being strangled at the same time. (the barn cats sometimes do try and eat him.) He is Pierre the Deathless, he who cannot be killed, no matter how many times they try. Also sharpe is awful at catching chickens as seen above. He is just all legs. Antonia flings the chicken feed wildly at them as though they did something to offend her delicate sensibilities, and Teresa seems to be the only one of the family that can handle chickens calmly.

Teresa and Sharpe want to pretty much grow whatever, but the first thing the plant are orange trees right outside the house, and Sharpe and Antonia play a game of naranja y beso- Antonia brings him an orange that’s fallen on the ground, and he gives her a kiss! And if she brings him two, she gets two kisses- so on and so forth. Sharpe also grows turnips which he’s ALWAYS wanted to do his entire life and he is so goddamn proud when they come out delicious and they just eat them cooked in butter.

They live in a perfect corner in the countryside- there’s a river right near them where they go swimming in the summer, and wash their clothes and bathe. Around them is miles and miles of arable land, as well as woods and copices and heath and pasture. They grow wheat and hay and vegetables, but they start both an orange and an apple vineyard- unusual for the fact that talavera is known for its olive vineyards, but the Moreno-Sharpe’s love their fruits. This orchard continues to grow, and Sharpe, on a whim, (and because he’s basically rich for the rest of his life) buys some small cider press gear, and as a by product of just having so many apples, start’s his own tiny business- Sharpe’s Cider. He sends quite a few barrels to the Chosen Men, and a favorite among the locals that frequent Harper’s pub. He also sends a barrel when he’s given an invitation to Nosey’s parties, which he always declines.

Teresa buys Sharpe his second horse (through Harper’s “horse business”), a Yorkshire draft, which he affectionately names Charlie. He was a gift for their fourth anniversary, and also to help plow the fields to start their little farm on a larger scale. Though Charlie also enjoyed other duties; namely...ploughing Teresa’s mare, Rosario. They later have a foal, gifted to Antonia. Sharpe was mortified to catch the two horses together and tried to break the apart, to no avail.

Sharpe learns Spanish customs after spending so long in this country- siestas interrupt his afternoon tea, but he finds he can work around it. He brings recipes from home into their daily life, and Teresa uses a cookbook she bought in Yorkshire. They make bread and cook together and Sharpe remarks that he’s glad they’re in the kitchen together, and she laughs- he never could envision her as a housewife, until now. Antonia is always covered in flour and they go to the river as they wait for the dough to rise. They take Antonia out to see the stars, they go to the marketplace and Sharpe practices his spanish (oh so poorly, but he tries!!) and they buy churros and have sugar all over their faces. it’s a wonderful, sweet, domestic life, and they wouldn’t change it for the world.

anyways i just love this ending and writing abt it and there’s way more i have to add but i just...need to hash out details with @properbastard

#v; after the war #(i need a better tag)#I JUST WANT TO MAKE SO MANY EDITS WITH THEM YKNOW

3 notes · View notes

catalystic-dragons · 5 years

Text

Just a quick info dump about my wof fantribe ;v;

Name:

Warrenwings

Base:

Name Meaning:

A network of underground tunnels and burrows - a reference to how Warrenwings live:

Naming Convention:

Warrenwings name their hatchlings after geological features, ground-nesting wildlife, precious stones and insects. Sometimes, they are also named after fungai or plants that grow in little light (thus cultivated underground).

Home/Habitat:

Vast burrows underneath the dry savannah on which they live. The burrows are ever expanded by teams of builders - when they aren’t expanding, they reinforce the older tunnels and burrows. Cave ins are only really common on mining levels, where the poorest dragons mine precious metals and gemstones.

Burrows are usually quite spacious, regardless of ranking, as Warrenwings are usually half the size of Mudwing at full growth, though Royals can have over double the space of a commoner.

Average Lifespan:

A well fed warrenwing may live for up to 500 years! But it is exceptionally rare for them to exceed more then 250 in their current environment. As they get older, warrenwings become more sluggish and reptile-like, preferring to bask and wait for food to come by than engage in energetic bouts of hunting.

Government:

King and Queen rule as a unit with a council of elders. While the King and Queen have the majority of the power, the council of elders vastly outnumber them, and are made up of the oldest dragons in the tribe. With their wisdom of the tribe’s history, and the experience to provide guidance, they help the king and queen make vital decisions, and feed back from their communities directly.

Any royal can challenge their parents for the throne once they complete a sacred trial, known as “Night of the Long Hunt”. During this trial, the royalling must hunt down a male lion and bring his carcass to the tribe for a great feast. Some never do this, and thus abdicate from the throne - but Ravine, the current Queen, bought back a fully grown male to prove her worth as a strong leader, a strong fighter and a good tactician. She picked her mate, Beatle, before she became queen, and thus he inherited the title King after she had proven herself worthy and her mother, Meerkat, had stepped down.

Abilities:

Warrenwings are exceptionally hardy dragons; what they lack in size and speed, they make up for in strength and stamina. Their tough hide is built to protect them from potential predators, like large wild cats and hyenas. Their wings are too small to let them fly for long distances, or at all in some cases, but they make fantastic shields against predators or other warrenwings.

Aside from their horned snouts, shovel claws, thick leathery wings and thick tails, often equipped with clubs, spades or spikes, they have a cement-like mixture they can fire from glands at the back of their throat - used both for offence and the building of their vast burrows.

Diet:

A warrenwing is not a picky eater. While they are classed as omnivorous, they must get protein in their diet; through grubs they find in the tunnels, or kills bought in by the hunters. Fruits are enjoyed as a special treat during the rainy season, and mushrooms and root veggies make up the rest of their food. It should be noted that they cannot digest leafy plant matter well, but will eat it if there is nothing else. They do need to consume porous rocks regularly to produce their cement like spit.

Colours:

Common Primaries - Earthy browns, stone greys, mossy greens, charcoal black, sandy yellows.

Uncommon Primaries - Snowflake obsidian, dark greens, fleshy colours (scaleless)

Rare Primaries - Leucistic, piebald, melanistic

Legendary Primaries - albino, opalite, opal, any deep/bright colours

All Accents- rare mineral/gemstone-like colours; blue/green/red/turquoise/purple/yellow/black/etc

ROYAL ONLY - opal

Traits:

Common - underbite, short nose horns, short horns, chin spines, short ears, hard scales on legs, leg spines, short spines down back, short spines on tail, spade on tail, small wings, wing claws, short tail, shovel claws, smooth underbelly

Uncommon - rabbit ears, ram horns, long horns, branching horns, rabbit back legs, extra row of leg scales, medium wings, gecko tail, club tail, medium leg spines, plate underbelly, scaleless

Rare - blindness, starnose, drillnose, droopy ears, long nose horns, double horns, spine mane, tusks, large wings, clawless wings, paws, stegosaurus plates, thagomiser tail

Legendary - snake mouth, tremorsense, antlers, short fur mane, wingless, long tail, arrowhead tail, crocodile tail (dragging)

ROYAL ONLY - secondary “gemscale”, gem markings by the eyes, triple layer arm scales

Continent:

Warrenwings live on an island that is largely vast scrubland, desert and savannah along the equator, where it is very hot and often very dry. Their home is known as Platynus (Genus of beetle), and is rather unforgiving in its nature. From space, it looks like a dragon coiling back on itself, trying to bite it’s own tail. It should be noted it is significantly smaller than the other continents. While there are mountain ranges around the fringes of the Platynus, and there are several active volcanoes dotted about, it is mostly arid, with droughts running riot when the sweltering dry season extends for longer than a month. Because of this, Warrenwings view water as sacred, and often try to cultivate pools of water in their underground home.

The wildlife present on Platynus are hardy species. There are several kinds of dromedary, and some wild species of horse. The most common large predator is the hyena, or lion, which will prey on small and weak warrenwings if given the chance. Meerkats, wild hamsters and moles are commonplace in the scrub, and many species of vulture and hawk make their home in the trees. At first glance, Platynus may seem like a lifeless plain, but it is teeming with life. Elusive elephants and rhinoceros can be found in the quiet corners of the continent, away from the bustle of the wildebeest herds and the jaws of giant crocodiles.

Religious Beliefs:

Warrenwings find harmony in the natural order of their world; the circle of life is something many hold dear as a solid belief. Elephants are seen as old Gods, wandering through the brush. Following them brings the promise of water, so naturally Warrenwings see them as sacred animals to be revered and respected. To kill and Elephant, or eat its carcass, is a great taboo. The hyenas of the plains are seen as harbingers of death; seeing a pack when you are alone is a sign of terrible things to come. Vultures are seen as guides - whether that is a guide to the afterlife, or a guide to your next meal, depends on the vulture.

As the concept of Kings and Queens is relatively new to Warrenwings as a united tribe, some side warrens have unofficial leaders, who are often revered as wise ones. These are often old female Warrenwings, who pass the knowledge of tunnel carving, medicines and water cultivation down the generations. While unofficial, offending these old matriarchs is frowned upon.

Lore:

Warrenwings were only made aware of the outside world when a mudwing and icewing shipwrecked on their shores. It was an experience which shocked the tribe, who mainly lived apart and competed for resources in rival burrows, into connecting as one people. Knowing there were many tribes out there, ones that displayed strange and terrible powers, led them to form their current society. While the current Queen is aware there remains a lot to be desired, she is working hard to create a warren where her people can live together in harmony. She has been Queen for 10 years, and while her people like her, there is a stirring in the poorest parts of the warren. While not quite ready for a true rebellion, discontent grows in the mines.

Laws:

Warrenwings live by a simple rule. One must help the warren stay alive. Killing another warrenwing is only ever an option in extreme cases, and will rarely stand up against the Queen and her Council, unless you have evidence to support your side. Though the King and Queen are seen as the ultimate heads of the law, they can be challenged by the Council and dismissed if the Council deem it necessary for the good of the Warren.

Simply, the laws are thus:

Do not kill your fellow dragons

Do not force your love upon those that do not wish it

Be kind to those in need; share with them your water, your shelter, your food

Do not go out alone above ground, unless you have been told to do so

Never defile the water; do not steal it, do not soil in it

Never kill an Elephant, for they are sacred

The King and Queen decide justice, but are not above justice itself

Those who defy the law are tried by the Queen and Council, and testify before randomly selected warrenwings who will, along with the council, decide their fate. The worst case scenario for any warrenwing is exile, and that is not taken lightly by anyone involved.

Alliances:

None thus far. They are a private tribe and are well removed from the political spheres of the canon dragon tribes.

Rankings:

Rankings are decided by jobs, which decide where in the warren you live. Those who show talent during their training years are recommended to the Masters of those fields, who then decide whether or not to take them on as apprentices.

Lower class Jobs (poorest): Miner, cleaner, seer, sentry, gem refiner, gem cutter, guard, tunnel digger, mushroom farmer

Middle class jobs (average): Tunnel Architect, tunnel overseer, wiseone (only for older tribe members), hunter (above ground), gatherer (below ground), cook, weatherwatcher (above ground), lawkeeper, soldier, weaver

Upper class jobs (rich): Jeweller, dowser (one who finds water), royal guard, royal cook, personal seer (to royals), water cleanser, gem polisher, royal quarters cleaner

Royal Jobs (royal family only): Queen’s Guard, King’s Guard, water overseer, lead hunter, lead gatherer, lead lawkeeper

Animus Laws:

Animus dragons exist, but are often exceptionally rare. They are feared, but beloved by their kingdom, and reside with the King and Queen to be raised alongside their own hatchlings. They are only ever asked to use their power in extreme cases, like severe droughts.

#the dragon talks #wof #wof amino #fantribe #wof fantribe #wings of fire #wings of fire fantribe #warrenwings #my art #the dragon writes

79 notes · View notes

absolutelyxosmittenxo · 6 years

Text

Imagine: How miscellaneous RWBY characters express how much they love you.

RUBY ROSE: Little Red Riding Hood is flushed in the cheeks, incapable of containing her excitement to the extent you encourage herself to breathe before passing out. "You're just so cool, amazing, really cute, and I just really, really, really love you a whole lot! I can't believe you're dating me and oh my goodness I can't breathe-"

WEISS SCHNEE: Conveyed as the anime archetype 'tsundere', it simply depends on the circumstances. In your company, the heiress holds your gaze tenderly, delicately folding her hands together and speaking honestly. "I love you so much. Thank you for taking the time to know me, and letting me discover who I truly want to be."

BLAKE BELLADONNA: Distance has been asserted considering the past experiences shared with Adam Taurus - the Belladonna's daughter is mortified of what threat infatuation could pose. Yet you've seeped through those cracks; within, a timid, open minded and merciful girl desiring nothing but unity for everyone. She is smiling softly, ears exposed freely as they flick every which way. "I've been afraid for so long - but when you came into my life, I decided I didn't want to run away anymore. Now, I can fully admit I love you, and know you love me for me."

YANG XIAO LONG: "You actually stayed here with me," the bombshell blonde utters, implying abandonment was an emotional obstruction she faced more than desired. Her mechanical arm quivers under the pressure of her anxiety; but as she concludes you are there, you won't leave, she takes a moment to breathe. "I want to be there for you, like you always have been for me. You mean the world to me."

PENNY POLENDINA: Whether Professor Polendina invested in hardwiring the concept of romance or love into the robot's system, she was adapting to the idea. Little by little, she was learning more and more. Sometimes, Penny jumps to the opportunity to wrap her arms around your neck, squeezing the very life out of you. "I love you! I love you! You're the bestest friend I could have ever asked for."

JAUNE ARC: "I know most underestimate me - well, I'm sure pretty much all of Beacon did," Jaune laughs dryly, evidently wandering to the bitter moments of being seen as underwhelming, even by his own family. "But I know there's people who believe in me. Even then, I was so dumb, and ignored them, and once I realized they cared, they were gone. I won't make the same mistake twice. I love you so much, I can't bear to lose you like Pyrrha."

NORA VALKYRIE: Born a rambler, once her lightning strikes, there's no way out of it. "You're always just so adorable, strong, wonderful - mhm, Ren, more pancakes, please! - When you said you wanted to be together-together, I just couldn't pass the chance up!" Through a mouthful of ooey gooey, syrup soaked pancakes, she says, "I love yoooooooooooou!"

PYRRHA NIKOS: Destiny was debatable; was it predetermined, or was it belonging to you as you paved your own pathway along life? It was a definitive question the invincible girl pondered frequently. But the very fact you try your best to bring joy into her life, in spite of potential doubts of your worth? She is absolutely smitten. With a light stroke of your hair, and caressing your cheek, Pyrrha smiles warmly, "You are everything to me."

LIE REN: Ren relies on subtlety to depict his emotions. One could say his motto is "Actions speak louder than words." Indeed they do, considering whenever push comes to shove, his affection manifests itself in simple ways. Particularly holding your hand. You could be clinging to your very life line, hope fading as the world seems to be plummeting into oblivion. However, once the huntsman intertwines his fingers with yours, you realize everything will be okay on the end.

SUN WUKONG: His velvety smooth, cream yellow tail is embracing the branch haphazardly, as he awaits your presence. As soon as you stroll on around, the monkey faunus seizes the opportunity to execute his plan. Dropping down, Sun swoops in, kissing you square on the mouth as you emit a surprised squeak. "Love you, babe!"

NEPTUNE VASILIAS: It was gentle leaning, inspecting your features, admiring how lovely you were. He was a love sick fool - you had the flirty boy enraptured, head over heels, considering himself every term to describe how much he was falling deeper in love with you. Neptune adores you. "Gosh, you're cute," he smooches you on the cheek, How'd I get so lucky?"

COCO ADEL: Her expressions of love are never discreet; Fox, Velvet and Yatsuhashi are subjected to her attempts of showing it often. Before you awaken, the gunslinger equips an appealing color of her lipstick, and inscribes a few words upon the mirror. In the morning, as the time signifies you must rise to the occasion, you venture into the restroom, only to see what Coco had left behind. "I love you" written in lipstick, her signature emblem implying it was her.

VELVET SCARLATINA: Each picture was worth a thousand words - upon every photograph snapped, Velvet could sense the devotion, sweetness, heartfelt moments and even beyond emanating from the scenes captured. Thus, she compiles them to the best of her ability. The shy bunny is internally bouncing off the walls as she hands you the album she created, confessing with rosy cheeks, "Every moment we share reminds me of why I love you so much - so, I thought, why not show you all the moments we have had together?"

OZPIN: Millenniums were spent contemplating pensively, having people lose faith in him, watching everyone else perish as he was forced to wander the Earth. The academy's headmaster has suffered severely. The thought of having you cease to exist while his soul remains is ingrained his mind. But Ozpin concludes worrying for the future isn't going to be helpful. For now, he must cherish what he had. As he sees you sleeping soundly, and leans over, pecking your temple, he truly can say, "I love you to the moon and back."

GLYNDA GOODWITCH: Left to mend the broken pieces of a once content Vale, Glynda has suffered the hardships of immense, overwhelming grief. Ozpin was off to reincarnate wherever his soul wound up, students fled across the kingdom, majority barely seeing the light of day since the fall. But you didn't leave. As you raise Glynda up, explain how grateful you are for her efforts, how Ozpin and all the students are proud of her, she is reminded of why she fell in love with you. "Thank you for staying beside me in this time of hardships - you mean everything to me."

QROW BRANWEN: Alcohol flooding into his brain, the uncle of Ruby and Yang is spouting lyrical nonsense. You sigh in response to your beloved's irrational babbling, having his head rest in your lap. He is the equivalent of a toddler following a few or several alcoholic beverages. "I love you~" Qrow would confess constantly, trying to smother you sloppily in kisses, breath radiating the worst of odors before passing out. After waking up the next day with a hangover, the Branwen groans from the migraine, apologizing for his goofiness. "I don't know how you do it, but thanks for putting up with me."

WINTER SCHNEE: Family was a touchy subject to graze on in terms of a persuasive yet spiteful father neglecting his children unless they were needed to serve a purpose. All the soldier considered to be family, for the most part, was her younger sister, and butler, Klein. However, it's a rare sight to see as she disentangles her luscious white hair from its bun, and she is witnessed smiling so sweetly as she peppers you in brisk kisses. "It isn't often someone comes into my life and makes it more worthwhile - but you have helped me cherish it even more."

JAMES IRONWOOD: His body was composed not of flesh and blood; metal prosthetics filled the spaces of appendages deprived of him. Yet James was as handsome, wholesome, and endearing as he always has been. With the man's chest exposed, ebony bangs slightly out of place as you both had just woken up, you rest on the edge of your bed. He's breathing gingerly, as you stroke your thumb under the surface of his palm. Raising your hand to his lips, he kisses it, expressing, "I love you so dearly."

OSCAR PINE: He wouldn't be the kid he was prior to merging souls with a seemingly immortal man. No longer a farmer hand reduced to playing the role of feeding livestock and raking hay. Now, he was thrusted into the life of a new incarnation of the one meant to defeat an unstoppable force. Through it all, though, Oscar was falling in love. He plucked the loveliest flower he could find, stroking the back of his head nervously as it offered it to you. "I know there's so much going on right now, with there perhaps being a war, people trying to kill us constantly - it's just crazy. But you give me a chance to breathe. And, as silly as it might sound, I really love you for it."

CINDER FALL: Perhaps the wicked woman's upbringing was similar to Cinderella, yet she couldn't seek the happy fairytale ending her inspiration was fortunate enough to have. Or, at least, from what we have seen. To you, Cinder is an enigma, much to be explored as she is in pursuit for power. But you turn the tables as she stops the world to get off with you. Having you close your eyes, Miss Fall indulges you in her, lips touching yours endlessly, and you are on the verge of fainting from being so breathless. "Do not think - succumb to these urges to embrace me, and I shall never let you go. Maybe you and I can find that happy ending we desire, as we rise to the top, and all else fall."

ROMAN TORCHWICK: Smoke drawls from the cigar tucked in between his lips, the con artist grinning as you curled yourself around his waist. Being pummeled by fifteen year old girls weren't exactly confidence boosting, but at the end of the day, to have you be so loyal and endearing has his heart skip a beat. Roman parts the cylinder momentarily, "Dear, have I ever mentioned how much I adore you?"

MERCURY BLACK: One, two, three - the liplocks multiplied as the mechanical marvel covers your body in kisses. He doesn't hesitate to express his dedication, although preserves it for private settings, sprinkling playful banter here and there. The assassin's son swipes away any residue residing on your mouth, smirking, "Babe, you're my one and only - don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

EMERALD SUSTRAI: In your arms, the master of thieves believes she is finally at home, a safe haven where she can not worry about going hungry or being reduced to filth. She isn't manipulated to conduct misdeeds as she is by Cinder; you have compassion for her, saving the time to make her happier and make her feel loved. Really, Emmy never anticipated to receive such affection. But as the thief dissolves into your embrace, she whispers, "God, I love you."

NEOPOLITAN: As far as we are concerned, the killer queen waving around a lethal parasol cannot emit sound from her vocal chords. But verbal obstacles won't stand in the way of this tiny antagonist. Neo props herself up on her tip toes, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. No hidden intent, yet you have your worries. Of course, your expectations are evaded, as she stands on top of your feet, kisses your lips, and signs the typical romantic phrase for you.

SALEM: Externally, Salem appears monstrous, depravity consuming her as revenge drives her motives. Beneath the surface, however, the eternal being exposes gentleness, in which she nurtures you, raises you up, refusing to let you crumble. "I have lived as long as you can imagine. It's scarce, for someone to catch my interest as you have. Ozpin's dominion shall fall apart, so long as all is executed as it should. As I seize control, you will forever remain by my side. That much I can promise you, my love."

ILIA AMITOLA: "I always wanted Blake to look at me the way she did with Adam," the memory causes the chameleon's heart to throb undeniably, "I was hopelessly in love with her." Alternating accordingly to her emotions, Ilia's speckles changes to a pink resembling cherry blossoms. "But now that I've met you, I can forgive myself for my past mistakes. I don't need to blend in - you love me as I am. And I love you just the same."

609 notes · View notes

nordic-breeze · 5 years

Text

I was going through my files and I came over this document I sent to my friend @distant-rain pretty much the same day I realized I had fallen in love with Arthur, after weeks of being in denial or shrugging off my daydreaming of this cowboy as nbd or thought experiments and boy was I confused.

I knew next to nothing about RDR1 when I wrote this December last year and I didn’t know much about RDR2 post chapter 2 either except for Arthur’s fate, which I had just learned of, and oml was I upset and confused. Though also scaringly accurate about certain things.

Now over six months later, I love this cowboy even more. And I kept true to my word. If anyone wanna read the rambings of a fangirl who had just found her new obsession be my guest.

I was blown away by how massive this game is. The level of detail is incredible and I greatly appreciate the effort put into creating this world. Yeah, we’ve all heard about the horse testicles shrinking in cold weather but it’s not like it’s just one bizarre detail being essentially a dick joke in an otherwise average game. No, RDR2 is detailed enough that it actually makes sense to add in peculiarities like that. The amount of wildlife alone, I mean, ever since the PS2 era I’ve been used to seeing animals in games but R* created whole-ass ecosystems in RDR2, several of’em, from snowy mountains to marshlands, with animals that act so much like actual animals. Just listening to the birds singing, it’s like being out in an actual forest!

Characterization is another thing that amazed me, in particular the protagonist. I knew nothing about the first RDR when started playing RDR2, nor did I know anything about RDR in general other than it was western-themed and made by the GTA-guys. I expected somewhat of a similar characterization as GTA where every character is a stereotype or a caricature. I genuinely liked GTAV’s story for what it was and even though every character was more or less an asshole, some of them were also weirdly likeable and even earned my sympathy (and hint of affection) occasionally.

But it never really went deeper than that nor was it particularly long-lasting (still way more than I expected tho). I bonded with one of the characters more than I thought I would but not nearly as much as I would had the characters felt more like actual humans and not like the epitome of stereotypes. But it is what R* wanted and it worked. I expected the RDR2 characters to be the same but to my surprise the characters, especially Arthur, are fleshed out, complex, even relatable (depending on your actions I guess). Unlike GTAV, they act and react like actual human beings. Well, human beings that have lived their entire life (more or less) as outlaws. In a country and time period foreign to me. But still they felt human. Ofc I’ve not gotten to know any of the NPC’s as well as Arthur but from various missions and eavesdropping on their conversation I’ve gotten to know them a bit. Hosea is my favorite. He seems like a good man despite being an outlaw and I love how everyone goes to him for advice and how supportive he is. I also wish more people (esp a certain Dutch man) could listen to him more. I also really like Charles. He definitely got morals and could be a good influence on Arthur and the others. I haven’t seen much of Sadie yet, but think I’ll like her too. Lenny seems nice. That one scene when he and Arthur went out drinking together was absolutely brilliant! And lil Jack’s adorable ofc. Only one I don’t like is Micha or Miach or whathisname. I know no one in the van der Linde gang are saints but that guy is a total psychopath. I kinda wish Arthur had gotten his way there when he said they should just leave him in jail as he was nothing but trouble and it annoys me how Dutch is sticking up for him. Yeah, speaking of, not too fond of Dutch or that German guy either atm.

But all in all very impressed by the large open world, the level of details to well, everything and the characterization. Soundtrack is great, graphics are stunning, animations smooth, the horse-riding simulation is just extraordinary and you never know what’s gonna happen as you ride through the map. The amount and variety of random events and encounters are truly impressive. Often comical, like that wildlife photographer who keeps getting almost eaten up by the wildlife he’s trying to document, sometimes eerie like the serial killer side story, or sad like when Arthur met with his former love. Or a combination of said elements like the pig farmers I ran into. With no pigs. But were still veeery well fed. You know, when people are just a liiitle bit too friendly? That eerie feeling you get when you just know something’s wrong but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Until you can. I thought they were husband and wife I really did. You shoulda seen my face when I realized they were in fact brother and sister. Me and Arthur had the exact same face. They were living as husband and wife tho. Well, up until I killed them.

I also love the contrast between the more ‘modern’ world and the simpler life. I could go into town, buy food at the saloon and rent a room or take a bath at the hotel. Or I could ride a few mins out into the wilderness, hunt and gather my own food, cook it over a bonfire and sleep under the stars. Electricity exists, but people are still completely dependent on oil lamps and open flame. Trains and trams exist, cars have been invented, but people still mainly travel on horseback. This contrast between old and new as an era is ending and the modern era is about to begin has been an amazing experience considering the level of detail the game has. The colonization of the new land, which has been largely unknown to me, the contrast between this and modern-day America we see on TV. So many people did not even speak English, I often find abandoned buildings, or burnt-down buildings, some with bodies inside, leaving me wondering what happened to them, I found a ghost town whose inhabitants had been wiped out by a plague. It was tough for many I reckon.

In fact, I find the exploration of this foreign but also somewhat familiar, beautiful but harsh world and its many random events and encounters waaay more interesting than the actual main story itself, which is why it took me forever to reach chapter 3. In fact, the story is probably my least favorite part about RDR2, as backwards as it may sound. I’ve never been into western stories or aesthetics, and I’m certainly NOT into the whole ‘outlaws till the end’ stuff ugh. I fail to sympathize with the whole ‘boo-hoo the world no want outlaws like us no more it’s unfair’. Ugh, go cry me a fucking river. And then go get a job. A real job. Yeah, I get it that adapting to society is tough, life’s tough deal with it and stop preying on others. Wow, robbing two trains in short time and staying in the same fucking area actually has consequences, I’m so shook!

So yeah, story-wise I don’t quite ‘get it’ and Dutch is really starting to get on my nerves, which is probably why I prefer to just ride off alone and experience the world. I guess RDR2 story will rely heavily on being torn between gang loyalty and your own morality and principles but since I have virtually no concept of group loyalty that is all lost on me. My own morals and principles all the way. I’m like, ‘these people suck, take Hosea, Charles, Sadie, Tilly (maybe John Marston and his family) and leave these bitches behind’.

At the beginning, I did kinda liked Dutch. He seemed genuinely sorry for Sadie, took her in and saved her life, even if it meant another mouth to feed in dire times. And he showed Kiran mercy despite hating the O’Driscol’s. But as I’ve progressed thought the game, his grand speeches about sticking together, sticking with him, slowly but surely has turned from pep-talk to keep people’s spirit up to sounding like a cult leader desperate to keep his following no matter the cost. Yesterday when I was playing, I overheard him quote some quasi-philosophy book to Lenny and used the words to twist them into his own convictions to support his decisions. And when Lenny objected, Dutch literally said ‘you’re breaking my heart, kid’. Wow Dutch, talk about manipulating your protégé.

It was the mission when those lawmen approached Arthur as he was fishing with Jack that really made me consciously see Dutch in a new light. Up until then, RDR2 had mostly been fun and games but that conversation left me feeling a bit uneasy. But I just figured it was the main story finally picking up pace and also, I figured I was near the end of the chapter. I carried on, suddenly eager to see what would happen and was thoroughly surprised by how the chapter ended. In a bad way.

While both chapter 2 and chapter 3 begins with a ‘new start’ vibe, chapter 3 felt very different from chapter 2. Mostly it was that feeling that Dutch’s obsession with ‘sticking to this life’ is going to get people killed. Idk, it’s this eerie feeling something’s wrong but can’t quite put my finger on it-feel again. But thanks to internet being internet I already knew some spoilers so I couldn’t help but to look up something and… well, let me put it this way. I’m never going to finish this game. Ever. It breaks my heart because in so many ways it’s truly an amazing game and a fantastic experience. But I’m just not that into the story, I don’t like where it’s heading and I don’t want to see what’s coming to character(s) I’ve come to care deeply about.

I still want to explore the world more, see what unfolds, do more challenges, add stuff to my compendium, maybe get some trophies… but I doubt I’ll ever progress much story-wise. Quite the contrary, I might reload an earlier save and just stay in chapter 2 forever.

(wrtten a couple of days later)

Seems my instincts was right on the money, esp concerning Dutch. Sad thing, I do believe he is sincere. In the first few chapters at least. He is manipulative but I also believe he’s convinced himself that he’s doing the right thing. And then his obsession will eventually get the better of him and when people and the lifestyle is slipping away from him, he doesn’t handle it well at all. Ugh, it’s so frustrating, I just wanna gather all my favs and yell: “leave nooow, before it’s too late!

It’s not for the sake of spacing it out or making it last. I just don’t want to progress in the story at all. I hated losing Horseshoe Overlook. HATED IT HATED IT HATED IT!!!! Yes the new place is beautiful, yes I know it’s the life of the outlaws and RDR2 does show that life for better and for worse whereas most stories tend to romanticize the whole thing, yes as outlaws they can’t stay for too long in one place. But as mentioned I have a hard time sympathize with and immerse myself into that lifestyle. Yes, I got all my upgrades and a whole new area to explore, a bigger nearby town, and closer to that big city. Still hated it. Horseshoe Overlook was my place. The Heartlands was home. And the view was stunning! And I liked Valentine. It was small and dirty but I had good memories from there. Until I had to shoot up half the town. My motivation for continuing the main story is at absolute zero.

It was more what the transition represented, I guess. You never know what will happen in RDR2. And it’s true, for random encounters, and many of the individual missions. But when it comes to the story as a whole, I feel like I already now can predict how it’ll play out. Every chapter begins with the gang on the move, finding a place to settle down and have a fresh start, even chapter 1 (as they were on the run bc a heist gone wrong or something). Then they settle down, go into town to get to know the area and establish connections and looking for easy money, often at the expenses of others. X random events later, they get too overconfident or careless, screws up or get hunted down, it ends with a shootout, then they are on the run again, finds a new place to settle down where Dutch promises that THIS TIME IT WILL BE DIFFERENT until they’re wanted on the entire map and can’t go anywhere cos the wild west is ending. I really liked it at Horseshoe Overlook and whenever Im in that area again I’ll just get sad.

I had no idea I’d gotten so emotionally invested so I was really surprised at how much I disliked moving camps and all. I’ve also gotten so fond of Arthur. I was so busy with exploring, doing challenges, learning to hunt etc I didn’t even realize it happening. Until one scene had me almost tearing up! I think because, we as the player really have to look out for him. Even though I make sure that he eats regularly, he’s still underweight. When out riding I usually set up camp when night falls so that Arthur can get some rest. Something I’d never think about in any other game. And I always give him coffee in the morning. Then it’s his journal that gives such valuable insight into who he truly is as a person. There’s no doubt he’s so much more than just a mere outlaw. He writes surprisingly well and is open and is surprisingly honest about his thoughts and feelings. How torn he is between the life of an outlaw and wanting to be a better man, a better person. How he admired Charles because, for him it was ‘so easy to just be good’ whereas he himself always feel torn between good and evil. And his journal entries when he meets his long-lost love Mary and saves her brother from the cultists. The expression on his face as he said goodbye to her on the train station… how utterly heartbroken he was… how she still loved him too… man, that one tore at my heart. Still does when thinking about it.

I wish I could take Hosea, Charles, Sadie, Tilly, John’s family and maybe Lenny too with me, run off and start anew. Charles would have good influence on Arthur and encourage him to turn his life around and find his place in society and encourage John to be a better father and role model for Jack and they could all learn how to live as free men and women without robbing or hurting anyone (unless they deserve it). Like, Charles is an excellent hunter and tracker. He’d totally get enough food for the gang and maybe even enough to sell. He could train Jack too. Hosea was always more of a conman/grifter than a brute/robber. He could con bad guys or rich assholes Robin Hood style. If anyone gave him grief, John and Arthur would settle the score. Arthur could sell animal pelts and John could take up carpeting. They’d be such a happy lil family. But, RDR1 is yet to happen so it’s all just wishful thinking *sigh*

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #the ramblings of a fangirl #about me

2 notes · View notes

bugcthulhu · 6 years

Text

Spanish/Iberian mythological creatures: What Even edition

Oricuerno: The “main” Spanish take on the unicorn (the other being the Escornau). White-furred with a purple head, blue or red eyes, deer hooves topped by small wings, and a twisted black, red and white horn. Usually living in the highest mountain peaks, has the power to turn women into men, and also cure poisonings and purify waters. Its entire body is considered a powerful amulet

Caltrí Snake: Massive and thick-bodied, with red scales. Devours any human it encounters, but weeps for them after the deed is done. Also known as the Calcatrix, which apparently was used to refer to crocodiles.

Cassandre: A beast of multiple colours whose pleasant smell attracts most animals but kills snakes. Between these traits and that it’s commonly assumed to be a lynx, it serves as the local version of the medieval “panthers”

Jancana: Extremely similar to the cantabrian Ojancano and sometimes treated as its female counterpart, while also a separate being. A hideous, deformed, wrinkled ogress with a single eye (plus two small ones in the nape) and either long, messy hair or snakes in place of hair. Can transform into beautiful women or giant snakes; in the latter case they can only return to their true selves after coiling six times around a man then tongue-kissing them. Also just generally rape men and cut off their tongues afterwards.

Blue-Legs Garrules: Female child-eater that enters houses through the chimney. Sometimes shown as the partner-in-crime of fellow bogeyman Camunyes

Velludo: “Hairy One” A headless horse that runs across mountains and empty streets at night, perpetually chased by six furious dogs. Said to be the spirit of a muslim king that murdered his sons (which would be the dogs)

Lobizon: A werewolf present both in Argentina and parts of Portugal, born from a curse that supposedly befalls the seventh son in any family. A pig-like hairy dog, with blazing red eyes and floppy ears. Devours children and carrion but especially craves animal excrement, a diet that renders its human form yellow-skinned and sickly

Vera Dwarf: Said to live close to a natural fountain, following close whoever approaches to collect water. Those with a good heart are allowed to pass and protected from all harm, but those with bad intentions are mercilessly beaten. Mentioned sometimes to grow in size as they watch over travellers

Silbán. A long, haired, long-legged giant whose lair was a cave high in a mountain only he could reach. Raided a nearby village to kidnap and devour women with impunity until he fell in love with his latest would-be-victim. She then escaped his clutches and conspired with the villagers to make him drink poisoned milk.

Cabrichocho: A blue lamb that subsists entirely on sap and butterflies. Hopelessly smitten with human women, to the point it mimics human speech in an attempt to win them over. Its hide is sought after by wizards, for it grants flight to the wearer.

Docejo: Bird-like being with a single wing, a single eye, and human lips instead of a beak. Drinks only from a specific river (the Jucar) and will in fact die if it ingests water from anywhere else. Loves music, and entertains itself by loudly burping at night.

Rosemunho: Evil spirit that appears in the form of whirlwind or a dust devil. Pulls travellers within itself only to toss them to their deaths somewhere else. Can be driven off by just throwing a stone or stick in its direction, because it will go hurl that instead.

Mairu: Giants said to be responsible for the construction of dolmens and other megalithic constructs across the Basque Country. Usually presented as an all-male race, with lamias as their counterpart, but some myths bring up female Mairu (Mairi) noted for their immense strength. Their arm bones – sometimes the entire preserved arm- possess magical properties

Hodei: Deity embodying storms, hail and thunder, appearing as clouds. Malevolent, brings down lightning to ruin the crops of farmers. Sometimes considered another of the earth goddess Mari and the dragon Sugaar’s many children

Darro Goblin: A cryptid whose sole witness described it as something between a monkey and a dog that walked on two legs, with an enormous head and exceedingly hairy ears. Gave terrifying screams

Mialta: Female bogeyman that force-feeds naughty children with pancakes she cooks herself, and which taste absolutely horrid.

El Pecado: Literally “The Sin”, a massive lizard so named because of its hideousness. Terrorized the village of Ovijuela until Saint Peter arrived and tamed it.

Cabanyas Lizard: Another huge, man-eating reptile, so strong it tore apart a mountain with a single strike of its tail.

Trucafort: A giant bogeyman with a beard so dense and long he keeps stepping on it, thus his tremendous howling. Always seen carrying two enormous boulders; one balanced atop his head, another at hand to smash children with.

Ome Marin: A humanoid covered in scales, with green teeth and sometimes a “mane” of algae. Prowls the coast devouring anything it can catch, including humans, and especially loves messing with and/or destroying fishing boats, ensuring sailors get stranded. Known sometimes to swim upstream and assault women near rivers.

Frailecillo: “Little Friar” Ugly, hunchbacked goblins with bony arms and massive feet, dressed in long black robes and emitting a greenish or purplish glow. Sleeping during the day, they are sometimes said to be clever and helpful but often they are extremely violent, entering houses to pinch the eyes of children as they sleep, chop off their limbs or sew their buttholes shut.

Marés: Child-eating octopuses whose embrace is impossible to break free from.

Xas: Goblin that takes refuge in abandoned windmills. While they won’t enter inhabited houses they delight in throwing rocks at them, as well as harassing livestock and stealing fruit from orchards

Gizotso: The basque werewolf. Rather than a curse, it is born from forbidden relations between man and animal. Usually wrapped in chains, and very bloodthirsty; the most common tale about them involves one randomly attacking a woman and ripping off her breasts. Always depicted with one of its legs ending in a round stump instead of a paw.

Guaraguara: Bogeyman of undefined appearance, but sometimes referred to as a “bug”

Pauet: The ghost of a child that died at the bottom of a well, crying for help that never arrived, and who now pulls others inside in an attempt to cure its loneliness. Other areas have a feminine counterpart in Maria Gancha (something like “Grabby Mary”) who simply snatches children down her well with hooked claws

Beast of the Clamor: A water monster whose terrible roaring could be heard all across the Ebro river. Legend goes a maiden was sacrificed to the beast to appease its wrath, and even though it worked and it was never heard from again, the unlucky maiden’s ghost is said to still haunt the river to this day.

Joan The Bear: Heroic giant born from a woman raped by an evil bear. Possessing enormous strength and armed with a just-as-massive iron bar, went on to have many adventures alongside a group of similarly-gifted friends – Arrencapins (who could tear the biggest trees off the ground), Escoltin-Escoltaina (who could hear even the smallest noise) Regiramuntaynes (pushes mountains around) and Bufim-Bufaina (could split the clouds by blowing)

Pardal Verd: A green, sometimes golden bird whose eggs have healing properties. Usually guarded by a giant serpent, and even then you can only ever take one egg.

Mother Of Fish: Bigger than man and brightly-coloured, like a sea snake with three heads, two tails and big expressive eyes. Intelligent, can speak and appear in the dreams of others in the form of a fairy. Eating her heads makes even the most barren woman bear children, and her tails can be made into swords.

Papasopas: A bogeyman that shows up to eat the food that naughty children refuse, but for every bite it takes, it will also bite on the children themselves. Also loves eating flies

Garos: An evil giant that was eventually bested by an entire village and killed by having a nail driven through his nape. His preserved skull was said to heal and invigorate children

Jan del Gel: A massive, literal snow man. The third of a series of snow children made by an old couple, unable to bear their own. While the first two were exemplary children up until they melted come spring, Jan ate the couple’s entire food storage then left to the mountains. Comes out during blizzards and freezes any children it spots with a glance, to drag them to his frigid cave and devour.

Orcavella: A fiendish mountain hag that terrorized an entire village, dabbling in the dark arts and eating children for centuries until finally she got tired of living and buried herself alongside a hapless shepherd she had under her control. None could approach despite his screams due to the swarms of snakes protecting the tomb, and they are said to protect it even now.

White Fox: Self-explanatory, but also has green ears/spots above the eyes and its tail, legs and teeth are entirely black. Feeds on flowers and occasionally stealing lunches from people. Its blood is highly sought after for its magical properties, but whoever meets its gaze feels immense panic.

Bird of Joy: Crimson-coloured, with green-and-white spots and black wings/beak. Start life as maggots on the White Fox’s body once it dies, eating one another until only one remains and matures. Eagles and other birds of prey give it wide berth. Loses its wings shortly before death, and if anyone pulls out the eyes once its dead, they will see them become magic diamonds.

Gollut: Hideous, narrow-eyed goblins that supposedly employed dark magic brought bad luck. Actually has a real life basis: Up until the beginning of the 20th century Catalunya housed a small, possibly inbred community plagued by deformities and dwarfism, living in squalor

Enemiguillo: “Little enemy” Microscopic, invisible goblins under the control of witches and usually held within a bottle. Their attacks express as countless burning bites on the legs and groin

Sopeira Serpent: A princess transformed into a massive snake by a curse. A knight failed to break it and ultimately killed the princess-serpent, after which her castle sank into the ground, taking with it everyone inside

Since these compilations seem to have gotten kinda popular here’s a bunch more i’ve done before , which started as me trying to help @tyrantisterror pad out his fantasy setting

41 notes · View notes

davepeta-posting · 6 years

Text

Hey. I wrote a research paper on my special interest. Read it?

The phylogeny of birds of prey defies expectations, as their genetic relations do not seem to match phenotypic expressions. In most animals, similar appearance indicates a close relationship, as with felines. In birds of prey, closely related birds will often appear drastically different, while some who are genetically very different from one another seem similar. The diversification within families, combined with many cases of convergent evolution, led to birds of prey having been incorrectly grouped.

The classification of birds of prey, as with most animals, came well before DNA testing, and so they were split into groups based on observation. With additional scientific research it has become clear that certain aspects of this classification were incorrect, such as barn owls being an entirely different family than true owls, or falcons not being raptors. Raptors are eagles and hawks, where falcons are actually perching birds [Jaggard, 2018]. Corvids, or Corvidae, refers to crows, ravens and allies, but these are not considered birds of prey, as will be discussed later. Falcons are often misclassified as hawks, or close relatives thereof. Many falcons are even referred to as hawks in their names or nicknames. For example, the peregrine falcon is often called a duck hawk because it hunts other birds.

Eagles have a reputation for being majestic beasts who soar through the skies and can bring down prey of staggering sizes. This is true for some, like the golden eagle, who have been known to prey on antelope and sheep [National Eagle Center]. Bald eagles, however, are fishers when necessary but are primarily thieves and scavengers, stealing prey from osprey, another bird of prey, and sometimes even from vultures. Eagles are as diverse in what they hunt as is possible, preying on anything from rodents and small fish to deer. Eagles hunt by soaring over their prey, sighting them and diving down to make the catch. While they cannot reach the incredible speeds of the peregrine falcon, they are quite adept at snatching prey off the ground or out of the water and carrying it with them to a safe place for feeding. Fishing hawks are also able to swim, assisting them when the fish they catch are to large to carry in the air.

Eagles and hawks are justifiably famous for their eyesight. On a clear day, eagles can sight a rabbit from two miles away. While hawks are not quite as impressive, they still have sight more than eight times better than that of humans.

Eagles are much larger than other raptors, in the range of twenty pounds. Even many large hawks are about eight pounds. Certain vultures are able to grow even larger, but less consistently. Hawks are more of a jack-of-all-trades than other birds of prey. They are in the very middle of the size range of birds of prey, and are decent at all the things that other birds specialize in. They have a much wider ecological niche than the other raptors, being able to hunt a greater variety of prey.

Vultures are evolved to be scavengers much more efficiently than even their bald eagle cousins. They have almost no feathers on their heads and neck to keep blood and gore from sticking to them as they eat, as they sometimes need to stick their beaks far into carcasses to reach meat. They have extremely acidic gastric juices, which allows them to kill the bacteria that cause cholera and the virus that causes rabies [James 2016]. They are invaluable to the environment, getting rid of animal corpses before they can fester and spread disease, and they keep insect populations in check by competing for food. Many vultures, especially black vultures, will in fact hunt their own prey when carrion is hard to come by.

Vultures are endangered in their environments for many different reasons, though mostly due to human intervention. In Kenya, farmers will poison the carcasses of their cattle that were killed by lions, so that when the pride returns to feed, the lions will die off. This also kills the vultures who eat both the cattle and the poisoned lions. In India, drugs intended to assist cattle with joint pain causes kidney failure in vultures that feed off of them after they die. The Indian population of vultures has declined by 96% in only ten years. As a result of the decline in vulture population, conservation efforts are being put into place to provide vultures with safe food and medical care, in addition to attempting to regulate chemicals harmful to vultures.

Owls are closely related to raptors, and therefore quite far from falcons. Unlike other birds of prey, they are nocturnal and hunt mainly using their hearing, in addition to their night vision [Ponder and Willette, 2015] . Their other advantage is that owls have evolved to fly near silently. Owls have wings that are proportionally much larger than those of any other bird of prey, giving them more lift per flap and so less need to flap. They also have much less aerodynamic feathers than birds evolved for speed, and this fluffiness acts as a muffler for the noise of their feathers rubbing against each other in flight [Mahmood, etc. 2014].

Strigiformes, the order of owls, contains two families. Strigidae, or true owls, and Tytonidae, or barn owls. Tytonidae includes fewer than twenty species, while Strigidae represent twenty five genera. Owls are one of the oldest land birds, with lineages going back seventy to eighty million years. Only in the modern day have they begun to go extinct, due to humans destroying their habitats and displacing both them and their prey. The laughing owl of New Zealand has gone completely extinct due to habitat loss [Ponder and Willette 2015].

Falcons differ strongly from other birds of prey. While eagles, hawks, and other raptors have a close common ancestor, and even vultures are quite close, falcons are much more closely related to the songbirds they hunt than they are to raptors. While raptors hunt prey on land, and occasionally fish, falcons primarily target other birds. They dive on their prey, sometimes reaching speeds of 240 miles per hour. While most falcons are carnivorous, some will also eat insects, like the American and European kestrels. Falcons will also use their beaks to kill their prey, where raptors hunt solely using their talons [National Geographic]. Male falcons are referred to as tiercels, meaning “one third” in Latin, as they are about one third of the size of females.

Falcons are perching birds, the furthest birds of prey from raptors and the others. Their closest relatives are parrots, and yet they look like slightly smaller versions of raptors. Falcons are an amazing case of convergent evolution, having developed essentially the same talons and beak as raptors. These developments are advantageous to hunting birds, and as such developed independently in falcons and the common ancestor of the other birds of prey.

Peregrine falcons were formerly endangered due to DDT and other pesticides being consumed by the birds they preyed on building up in their digestive systems. Rather than just killing the falcons who were exposed, DDT causes their eggs to be less firm, bursting open easily and killing the infants. Falconers would climb up cliff sides to reach the nests of wild falcons and take the eggs when they were small, replacing them with plaster fakes. The eggs were carefully incubated and fledglings returned to their parents’ nests a few weeks after hatching. DDT and similar pesticides have now been banned in the United States. Falcons are now considered “least concern” on the endangered species list. [The Nature Conservatory].

Corvidae such as crows or ravens are not considered to be birds of prey. Although they will hunt and scavenge, much like vultures and bald eagles, corvids are entirely opportunists and will eat plant matter when it is more readily available than flesh. As such, they are considered omnivores where birds of prey are carnivores and occasionally insectivores. They are also the most intelligent birds, magpies being the only non-mammal to recognise itself in the mirror. They are able to use tools, solve multi-step problems, and work as a group. Crows are able to communicate advanced topics, and seem to have exceptional long term memory. Corvids are perching birds, and so significantly closer to falcons than raptors [Ericson, et. al. 2005].

Although they are all hunters in the air, each species takes a different approach to how one should catch prey. Hawks and eagles are perfect for soaring, scouring the ground below for prey before swooping down and pulling the animal into the air with them. The have long, broad wings to catch updrafts and spend the least possible energy to remain in the air for long periods of time. Owls have similar wings, but more broad than long. They do not have to stay up in the air for as long, merely avoiding flapping to not reveal their presence to the prey as they closely stalk it. As always, falcons seem to be the exception to these trends. Instead of soaring, falcons gain height before diving on their prey, generally moving large distances vertically while hunting, rather than laterally. All birds of prey will hunt relatively much larger prey than most predators, sometimes taking on animals even larger than themselves. Falcons’ most common prey are pigeons, the largest of which are the same weight as some of the falcons who hunt them.

As birds of prey spread across the globe, they diversified to fill different ecological niches. Due to many having migratory tendencies, the gene pools on each continent are fairly large, but there is a major difference between Old World and New World birds of prey. Old World vultures, from Eurasia and Africa, are more closely related to raptors than they are to the New World vultures of the Americas. Vultures are the main surprise in the area of differences between birds of prey in the old and new worlds, as raptors and falcons don’t seem to differ much between the two supercontinents[ Seibold and Helbig, 1995].

Almost all birds of prey are on the top of their respective food chains, only being at risk when confined to the nest as eggs and fledglings, when they can fall prey to snakes and climbing mammals. The parents, however, are often in the nest when these creatures attempt their attacks and will fight them off. The only animals that will hunt a fully-grown bird of prey are other birds of prey. There have been many recorded cases of eagles trespassing on a falcons territory and being fought off by the smaller bird, and sometimes even killed [Outside My Window, 2012].

Falcons will defend their nests and young with their lives, taking on animals they have little chance against in the hopes that they can scare these predators off. Although birds of prey, and falcons specifically, are extremely protective of their young, once they have matured fully the young are treated like any other trespassing bird and chased away. The formidable size of most birds of prey will discourage any attackers, and when it does not, these birds are perfectly adapted for both fight and flight.

Falconers have been using birds of prey to assist them in their hunting for thousands of years. The earliest case known case of falconry was in 2000 BCE in China [PBS, 2000]. Working alongside birds of prey has persisted since then, spreading to every continent except Antarctica. However, the first known case of falconers crossbreeding their birds did not occur until 1970, when to falcons of different species were housed in the same nest and mated [Frost]. Since then, cross breeding has been done intentionally to improve upon falcons and raptors. Falconers are able to combine positive traits from different species and cut out certain flaws. Crossbreeding is also the most foolproof way for falconers to avoid inbreeding.

Falconers are legally forbidden from releasing these crossbreeds into the wild, for fear of them breeding with local populations and outcompeting pure-breed birds of prey. So while these crossbreeds are being actively prevented from influencing the wild birds’ genotype, captive falcons are more likely to be crossbred than not. The crossbreeds are consistently able to outperform purebreds of both parent species, gaining the positive traits that assist in hunting, while the other parent balances out the flaws. One of the more common crosses is between the gyr, the largest falcon, and the peregrine, the fastest. While the offspring do not reach the size of a gyr, they are much faster, and while they’re slower than peregrines, they are much larger. This balance between the advantages of each parent species makes them even more successful in their hunts [The Falconry Center].

Recently, English falconers have been able to cross the Harris hawk with the golden eagle. This is groundbreaking, as it is not just a cross between two different species, but also through different Genera and subfamilies. It is not yet clear if these offspring are fertile, but in most birds of prey male crossbreeds are fertile, while females are much less likely to be. The fact that eagles and hawks can produce viable offspring together calls into question how closely the two are related. Once gene sequencing becomes more cheaply available it will be much easier to tell [Terrierman’s Daily Dose, 2010].

Birds of prey is an extremely diverse group of animals, although it seems to be a somewhat arbitrary term. While the majority of birds classified as birds of prey are closely related, the inclusion of falcons removes credibility from the group. Furthermore, corvidae being excluded seems to make even less sense, as they are just as similar to raptors as falcons are. The term and requirements to be classified as a “bird of prey” seem to be based solely on outdated phenotypic observations. While it is a useful phrase in falconry, it appears to have little place in the scientific community.

The crossbreeding of two birds from different genera, in the form of the Harris hawk and golden eagle cross, is an amazing scientific breakthrough. It raises many questions about how close their genetics are, and about how far two creatures can be genetically before breeding viable offspring becomes impossible. The mechanical compatibility between raptors will no doubt be very important to further experimentation on this subject.

In conclusion, although humans have been in close contact with birds of prey for thousands of years, we still do not have a concrete grasp on how they are related to each other, as we gain more information each day. The phenotypic variation in species that are closely genetically tied and the similar appearances of those quite far from one another makes classifying relationships between birds of prey a great challenge.

#LONG POST #please its so long save yourselves #im literally just posting my research paper

10 notes · View notes

suninagarajan · 3 years

Text

The Hunt and the Chase

Once a tribe of Hindu warlords of the south, the Nagarayan – Goi, having defeated the hill tribes and established peace in the scorching merciless desserts of Kuru Panchala, turned their attention to building a civilization that would stand for a thousand years.

The engineering talents of the Nagarayan- Goi brought irrigation to the desert and abundance to the land. A well, became a canal, which became an aqueduct which became a reservoir, which became a city. Success led to success and the kingdom prospered, plenty flowed like sunshine on the face of the desert, and farms, settlements, villages and townships peppered the land like spices at a feast, leaving abundance in their wake.

Nature thus tamed returned the favour and the people, grown fat of the land, moved their minds from soldier to farmer and thus, a set of distant disparate people went from tribes to Kingdom, and set about the business of being a nation.

In time trading relationships with other kingdoms and peoples were established and goods, art, culture and ideas flowed easily west across the sea and brought with them an intermingling of ideas, people and languages.

It is because of these roads of economics and exchange, that the beaters of the King’s Hunt, the King’s Hammers, who, in addition to beating the tigers out of the jungle for the king to hunt, are also infantrymen in the king's army, are pounding through the Koi jungle, a day and half’s ride from Kai – Purija, in a semi-circle of noise that turns the otherwise transparent greens of the jungle and peaceful sunlight that dabbles through the canopy, into a din of apocalyptic thunder, at least for the tigers, causing them to scatter into the open and the chase to begin.

The lacquered, black wood staves decorated with images of the hunt of exquisite beauty and handled with twisted silver, and white gold of the Phahsoi Batons whose lacquered black wood and hard smooth surface create the banging echoes the jungle canopy cannot sustain. So unnatural a sound in so peaceful a setting, banging the thundering rhythmic booms of judgement like the bastard hounds of hell.

They would scare the generals into sobriety and Kali from her resting place, at least for a moment, and are more than enough to spook the tigers from their lairs in the lush dense jungle. They echo to an unrelenting rhythm, a slow tantric beat with sounds that disturbs and then frightens the tigers senses and signals their doom.

The lacquering process, black wood and stave design that give the batons their echoing quality, is a product of the Phahsoi people who traded many goods with the Nagarayan – Goi and the broader people of the Hindus for centuries.

Other goods included gold jewelry, black wood, Phahsoi pots, corn and sweet wine. But the staves of Phahsoi, which have many uses and functions and come in many sizes, materials and prices are, along with the simple household pots, the lasting remnant of the Phahsoi people which has found itself into every strata and area of the lives of the people of Kuru Phanchala. They are therefore much loved and valued, with even the poorest homes having at least one Phahsoi stave and two Phahsoi pots.

Similar, though far less valuable staves are used by the common people to grind corn, they can sometimes be the size of a full grown man and are made so well as to last generations, handed down from father to son. A village might own only one or two Phahsoi corn staves to meet all their needs and several Phahsoi pots to feed their people.

The staves that the King's hammers are beating can be swung over a man’s head, but only by those the gods have blessed with the strongest arms and most determined will. Hammers display their strength at public festivals and games and he who is strongest of the Hammers will take the title Mighty Hammer and earn the respect of the kingdom and the friendship of the king.

The Phahsoi batons that the King’s Hammers are beating today beat at the command and for the enjoyment of His Royal Highness, and Blessed by that name Riphender Nagarayan – Goi, Maharaja of Kuru Panchala, Nazim of Behil, and Tyger of Kai-Purija.

They are one of the finest sets in the King’s collection and the last complete set of decorative Phahsoi hunting batons to exist. The Phahsoi people, having inexplicably disappeared over some one hundred years ago almost, as was said in Kuru Panchala, “raaton rat” or in the Persian, overnight, none more are to be had.

Although the official explanation in Kuru Panchala was that a famine or a drought had wiped out the Phahsoi, so long a stable of Kuru Panchala life for their trading goods, their intermingled children, and their strange beasts of the land, the truth was that no one knew what had caused their demise, as if in a moment all the news had stopped travelling west and the Phahsoi were gone. The people, it seemed, as if picked in a season like berries on the vine.

The Batons being used by the Kings Hammers today are one of the last complete Phahsoi hunting baton collections remaining and are therefore highly valued. Only the most skillful Hammer may use them, and the positions are highly sought as the hammers will join in the Maharaja’s feast tonight and the meat, bones and often hinds of the animals will be gifted to hammers as rewards to take home to their families.

So it is with pride and honour that the King’s Hammers beat the last of the Phahsoi batons to the drum beat of extinction through Koi, the jungle of light, and the king’s pride of tigers, as diverse and multiple as the stars in the sky, spring with a start from the jungle.

and the hunt begins.

_____________________________________________________________

The Maharaja’s of the Nagarayan – Goi dynasty, who it is said, spring from the goddess’ coupling with the Narayan tree, and after whom the ancient Narayan – Goi trees of the great forest are named, will ripen or rot when in the Golden Throne, because like the twin berries of that tree some will sweeten in the sun and some sour.

In his forty second year and having matured into the presence of a Maharaja. Riphender Narayan – Goi has fulfilled his older brother, Maharaja Rhoopendra Narayan – Goi’s promise after that brother’s fifteen-year tenure in the Golden Throne was ended by his fall from a horse in a hunting accident some eight years ago.

Ripenher has ripened, as his brother had failed to, into a dark chocolate brown wood of dense textures and complex fibers who has managed to enjoy and control his appetites, balance his opinions and keep his council. For the most part he had upheld his responsibilities to the Gods, and in return his reign had brought bread to the people, prosperity to the kingdom and stability to the Court.

He is, if not as much beloved by the commoners as his brother – who was said by the people to have fulfilled the ancient prophecy and was proclaimed the Tyger of Kai-Puriji, - was at least respected and obeyed.

He had led the Maharaja’s Cavalry and was a General in his brother’s army as well as heir to the throne when his brother died, so he was both a leading noble and a leading captain.

And he was an expert horseman well used to battle chase, so it is no surprise as the other contestants, in the King's Tiger hunt, struggle to keep up with the speed of the pursuit and the sound-deafening desert winds, that Ripender becomes at one within himself as the stillness descends in peace and the well won and familiar intelligence he has gained from years in the saddle kicks in.

He had waited for the hammers and their deep low sounds to move the beasts through the undergrowth, and when the pitch of the baton’s beat changed and the pack broke, scattering like a shroud across the desert plain, desperately seeking salvation, his sandy haired desert mare bred for her hunger and speed, hungry for the wolf, snapped like a coil in a spring and with a mouth of foam white drool bet performance against survival as she sprinted down the beasts.

No time to think, just ride,

the rushing sounds all around told him he was entering a vortex of desert winds and higher consciousness as his mare strained at the leash under him.

At full pelt after the lead bitch, his clothes nearly torn off him by the desert cyclones, he defies nature as he battles the force of on rushing desert winds and he’s winning, the pounding of the horses hooves fill his ears and he slips into a subconscious world of focus and calm.

He is at one with his surroundings tracking the animal, smelling, tasting, knowing the kill.

At the gallop, he grabs the saddle by the pommel and like an acrobat or dancer he slides over in a display of high-wire daring, hanging on to the horse as her nostrils sniff out the pack and she is away at speed he has cornered her, turned the animal sideways that he might take a better shot. Not gripping for fear like inexperienced men, Ripender trusts his body forward and cups the pommel with his right hand as if he were escorting a dancing girl to bed.

With the left he is holding the rifle straight out, an extension of his long strong arm, his finger caressing the trigger, the butt grounded hard into his shoulder, the air and wind rushing around his body as his distance from the horse becomes more pronounced and the gap between them widens.

For Maharaja Ripender the deafening desert winds are not to be feared or fought, they are the way one must pass if one is to conquer nature and destroy the beast. When the deafening silence of those desert winds quiet the external noise as his crown charka slowly opens and all around him is silence. Then he hears

“stay with the bitch boy…………don’t let it scare you. Take the head and the rest will scatter.”

It is only then, when stillness is upon him and he is calm, that he takes the shot.

______________________________________________________________

It was Nagarayan – Goi tradition since ancient times to hunt with the large bow for which, as warlords, they were famous.

But since the introduction of guns from the northern trade routes the Royal Court hunts with rifles from Germany, and each rider hunts with a second whose job it is to load the rifles and hand them to the shot. Maharaja Ripender Nagarayan – Goi has taken his one shot of the hunt, a straight hit in the centre at the back of the lead bitches head, as she frantically, wildly tries to lead the pack of hundreds of her bloodline away from the riders.

He knows nothing of the experience save the desert winds hushing the noise and the crack of the echo as the shot hits the target. His father’s voice, which bridged the gap between thought and action, is his only memory of the occasion.

He is ever the slick competitor, confident of his aim and instinct, as soon as the beast stumbles, he slips the rifle on to his index finger, cartwheeling the contraption around in tight circles in mid-air in the manner of the riders of his ancestors, every inch a Nagaraya warlord.

Holding onto the speeding mare with one hand he turns quickly, and in the middle of the chasing pack of rider’s changes directions and spins around. Then hands the gun over his shoulder to his second shouting to his third son Prince Janak “I’m heading back, get the rest” and rides off.

Tiger hunting is a dangerous sport, played at breakneck speed where the players chase down tigers at full pelt in the open. Prizes are awarded for largest shot, most pelts and best kill; teams hunt in packs of seven and any one hunt could have from five to fifty packs depending on the hunt.

The King’s hunt is a monthly affair with the King mixing business and pleasure outside the cloying confines of the palace. Combining hunting, dining and writhing with management of the kingdom.

Those select members of the King’s Royal household, those whose roles are to tempt the king to pleasure or to bother him with business, the King takes with him on the hunt, for the sport and the enjoyment. But he does not stop being Maharaja so on today’s hunt the King is joined by his generals, nobles, priests, scholars, astrologers, cooks, guards, dancing girls and concubines and other members of the court who accompany him hunting.

Ripender, resplendent in a white and lavender hunting suit of finest Khari silk, the Maharaja’s colours, cut tight by the royal tailors to reveal the tall muscular torso of the Nagarayan – Goi male whose tree-like ancestors built a mighty forest, sits confident astride his snorting desert mare and announces his arrival in the Royal Hunting Pavilion’s private apartments by the sound of the King’s private guards on horseback who protect the king and the cloud of leather, sweat and musk that perfume the air around him and proceeded his arrival.

The serving child, the only person with permission to be in the King’s private Royal Pavilion without his consent, had expected her master’s arrival since the echo of the tiger’s demise had signaled his expectant return and set about her work.

She had uncorked his wine, heated water for his ablutions, and arranged the dishes prepared by the royal kitchens to tempt his desires and satisfy his appetites, that she had collected earlier and now she stood on a stool of wood and gold behind a royal hunting couch made of nya wood inlaid with mother of pearl and ivory, depicting the seasons through the changes of the Nagarayan – Goi deciduous tree and covered in cushions of Brehzi silk.

The Pavilion, a cloth and wood and bone structure that provided the Maharaja with a place to enjoy, rest and do business when at hunt, was scattered with tiger skins, tapestries, carved wooden and gold tables, braziers and hunting couches where the Maharaja might relax, entertain favourites and enjoy his dancing girls.

Close by to his majesty’s private apartments was placed the Great Hunting Hall where the great feast would take place after the hunt and favours would be handed out, bonds strengthened, plans made, alliances muted and where the Maharaja would meet with and entertain his generals and nobles and hear petitioners from across his Kingdom.

The girl, his majesty’s private servant, a trusted position with access to his majesty’s person, was making ready to perform her required duties when Maharaja Riphender Nagarayan – Goi, Maharaja of Kuru Panchala, Nazim of Behgi, and Tyger of Kai Puriji appeared in the doorway of the tent, and for an instant as his magnificent form blocked all light from her world, was the eclipse that brings night to day said.

“Child, when will you learn?”

He shot the words out of his nostrils, it seemed to her, with so much resignation at her nothingness, that the child had the distinct feeling she was in the presence of a bull tiger deciding not to eat her.

His large form slumped in the couch in front of her changing the very air around them as she slid her small fingers into his smooth strong oily hair and began the trusted work of an experienced servant.

“Sorry Chaacha” she pleaded, placing her hopes on pleasing more with her massage than her behaviour. “don’t call me Chaacha” he snapped, his comfort and pleasure interrupted by irritation at the girls slip.

In the silence that followed, descending on the pavilion like a cool drink of water after a walk in the desert, the girl slid her young fingers into the Maharaja’s dark silken hair and grabbed hold of it within her small fists, holding bunches like violets between her fingers. She pulled.

The tension in his head stood to her little attention, and his energy levels return to normal, the Maharaja forgetting for the moment the girls existence made free to reveal his mind,

And purred like a tiger.

_____________________________________________________________

“Do you know why I call you Jaia?” he asked almost to the air rather than her. “Because I was born on the eve of a battle”, she answered, matter of factly, more interested in the cramps in her fingers than the story of her birth which though a much-repeated legend had to her become stale in the telling.

“Do not presume to know my mind!” the Maharaja snapped, jolted out of his reverie by her impudence he sent bolts of sharp energy through her small body. The child’s ever alert senses told her she had angered the beast. She let his rage burn out and flame down, as she knew it would, and he again placed his head and his trust, in her hands and said

“I call you Jaia because your father called you Jaia……

…………………………………………….you were born on the eve of a battle”.

The Maharaja, eyes closed and senses lured into tranquility, was lost in the past.

“Your father and I were facing the Harakepi tribe up in the mountains, yeah?

………..we were travelling from different directions so as to confuse them.

We had split the army, and tracked the tribes through the mountains and had them cornered at the Khurs pass.

We planned to meet by the pass, you know?,” he snorted to her to no one to anyone, “and take them by surprise.

but then your mother decided that that was the moment to relieve herself of you, eh.”

The Maharaja sneered back at her as if she were responsible for the delay in his battle plans, but as it was said as fact and without contempt, annoyance devoid of malice, and she had heard the tale many times before and she well knew her master’s ways by now, she kept her council and waited for the storm to pass.

“I told him over and over not to bring her. Over and over………….

Nothing but trouble,……………

……… but would he listen? No.

Stupid bastard wouldn’t leave her or travel on until the astrologers had done with you.

So by the time your bastard of a father arrived we were being held down south of the pass”,

the Maharaja was speaking to her, but he was remembering for himself she knew, as he recanted the story for the endless time like an angler re-catching a fish, he was deep in the battle. She knew by his energy; his body was in the pavilion, but his mind was at war.

“three times I sent the cavalry against them and three times they pushed back.

And just when I thought your father would never come and we would lose the day and have to turn and flee and run for our lives, what happens?

That arsehole appears with his men in the mountains above the fighting, and rushes down in a mad, reckless, rush and wipes the bastards out with one charge”.

The Maharaja breathed out, having just explained to her, her creation in one long unending soliloquy carried on a single breath.

“He credited your birth with the victory, that's why he called you Jaia.”

Though his eyes were closed and his head in her hands the Maharaja’s attention was slowly focusing on the child.

#books #my wriitng #creative writing #history #fictional history #india #newwriting #New Writing Project #bookblr #booklr #writers on tumblr #original writing #original fiction #writeblr

0 notes