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nightmareworks · 3 months

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After Action Interview

My name is Mu Ortena, with Union Historical Bureau, Active Front Correspondence Division, Kalacharri Commission. This recording is meant for historical context and further understanding of the events of Operation Seventh Step. My subject today is Allison Wax, who participated in Seventh Step as a mechanized frame pilot aboard the UNS-CV Oleander.

Miss Wax, would you please tell me how you came to serve aboard the Oleander?

"Yeah, sure, sure newsie. I was on the Oleander's spin as part of a Union contract, gray as all else could be. CO's had me giving orbital deployment training to a buncha oldtypes with grays so fresh-stiff they creaked when they saluted. Mostly mem-dump and virtu training, but the recruits-" Subject shrugs, tilting her head, dismissive "-too stuck with Gravity. Couple of 'em puked from the virtus I gave 'em."

Do you do much work as a trainer?

"No? It's boring as all hell, especially when CO wants me to teach a bunch of newborn little Auxes how to fly. They barely know how to handle themselves in Spin, too used to planetary weight!" Subject drums fingers against the table, annoyed. "Can't stand the smell of sick like that. The hell, like, they think bulking up on food will help them out or something, weigh them down more. Stupid, but I guess that's what oldtypes on their first trip upwell do." Subject shrugs again.

Please tell me what a more "normal" contract with Union entails for you.

"Well, its mostly me and my Loverboy, going pirate hunting. Union Grays just point me where to dance. Been a merc since I shed the weight, gotta outta my meat and got outta the Range." Subject smiles, referencing her homeland of Ketherese Station in the Auric Range; as well as her full-body prosthesis. "You see a lotta fighting, newsie? You ever see what the world looks like when you're really goin? Or is that just somethin for lancers?" Subject arches back, then ceases all motion for 3.8 seconds. "Maybe that's why the grays couldn't handle the mem-dumps, they just didn't know how to handle my kinda love. Goes a little too fast."

For the record, would you mind telling me what you mean by that?

"Ain't this whole thing a record, newsie? Ain't that why we're doin this?"

I mean that, are you comfortable with sharing what you mean about love when you say that? I understand that Loverboy is the callsign for... OCF-099bHMT?

"Yeah, that's my Loverboy."

I see. Is there anything more you would be comfortable sharing, or would you prefer if we stuck to only the most relevant details?

"[Subject sighs], you really are Gray, aren't you? I don't mind, don't mind a tick. When I fly, its about Love. My Loverboy and I do a dance, and we see who can keep up with us. Love is what waits for you when you cross the barrier-" Subject points two fingers at me, her thumb cocking as the hammer of a mock revolver "-And see the world at 2000kmph."

I appreciate your... candor?

"So newsie, are you gonna answer my question, you ever see that kinda world?"

No, I don't think I've experienced what you describe.

"That's a damn shame, to be stuck like that. You drift, you record, but hey, you ever see? Or is it all just stuff to go into the record- made into a Gravity?"

Let's return to the subject of our interview. Did you have any personal relationships with the members of the Mechanized Scouting Unit, as their trainer?

"I hate to be negative with you, newsie. Don't make for a good story, does it?"

It's alright, Miss Wax. History is made up of a lot of perspectives. Yours is just another part of the wider context, fleshing it all out as a primary source.

"That so? Make you more of a datahead than a newsie, don't it."

That's just the nature of being the first correspondent. If you don't mind, did you know anyone on the Mechanized Scouting Unit?

"Nah, yeah, not really. Just another set of gray new kids to teach how to fly second hand. Like I said earlier, I was mostly doing mem-dumps and virtus." Subject ceases all motion for approximately 1.5 seconds, then continues. "They handled the mem-dumps better than the rest of the grays I was supposed to teach. Think being in a mech before made it a little easier. Once you've tasted a live wire, you don't forget how it goes. The infantry kiddies, couple of them were spooked by a smart-circuit link, even if they said they got how the tech works."

May I ask what exactly the training programs were for the Mechanized Scouting Unit?

"Mem-dumps are spinning out bits of my brain for them to experience. Gotta layer in my matter, helps translates impulse to the body." Subject holds her hand out to me, palm up. "Push a couple of live-flight patrols I remember out an i/o." Subject pulls her hand back, touching against the nape of the neck. "Plug myself into a holo, and the new grays get to know what its like to really fly." Subject waves hand, removing it from her neck and setting it at rest again. "Virtus are spun up by Gray, same kinda holos as the mem-dumps, 'cept... tuned more for the Gray ways of flyin."

To finalize the pre-mission details, what did you know about Kalacharr when the Oleander arrived in-system? Were you aware of why the Oleander had diverted from its course?

"I figured a Far-Field shot lit a flare for help and Oleander was the closest Gray thing to get pulled into Orbit. I didn't know nothing about the planet. Can't stand planets. Too much Gravity, so I try not to pay attention to them. Kalacharr was just another place full of some paleo-oldtypes building shitty oldschool Babylons til Mr. Gray came and gave the shitheads ontop of the tower a few licks."

You've generally outlined your feelings on your deployment to Kalacharr, but would you be comfortable describing your opinion on the UNS-CV Oleander's actions?

"Which ones? Cause I was mostly-" Subject stops speaking, again ceases all motion for 2.4 seconds. I cannot see her breathing. "-like, okay, I don't really pay attention unless I'm flying."

That's alright Miss Wax, I mean, did the Oleander's Intervention mean anything to you, personally? Politically? Anything like that.

"I mean, its good to look at a pile of bricks and kick it over sometimes, isn't it? I think goin Gray will be good for them. Let 'em live as revolutionary ancestors for a little, these paleo-oldtypes."

And could you expand on that thought?

"I mean, yeah like. You Grays talk about levels of utopianism and all. Build up Gray thoughts, Gray words, Gray lives. Writings'd call you all the revolutionary ancestors. Too caught up in Gray to see much else. But Gray is better than the boot. And Gray'll leave well the fuck enough alone when someone sheds the weight of Cradle and steps past. You just make sure they step in a direction that don't totalize everyone else."

I see? Can I ask what you mean when you say Gray, specifically?

"Union. Good enough. Get along. Reasonable."

I've only read what's publicly available on your records, plus what's deemed necessary for context of Seventh Step's operations, do you mind telling me on record where you learned your terminology?

"I learned to shed my Gravity. I'm a spacenoid, you're an oldtype. That's just the way it is. Your soul's weighed down with stuff you can't see right, newsie."

Would you describe yourself as a posthuman, Miss Wax?

"I'm the future, newsie."

Throughout, subject has spoken without intentional malice, merely a rougher form of the Ketherean Cant. None of the tone shifts nor looping grammars registered as having insults in their meanings by translation C/Cs. I truly believe she also believes what she says. I have decided to continue the interview with the further noted context of subject's extreme differences from the Cradelian standard mores.

I see.

Did you know the other members of the Emergency Mechanized Strike Team well?

"Nah. Not really. Gray had me talking to infant killers all day, why the hell was I gonna talk to that soldier boy if I didn't have to? Soldierboy was doing the ground training, I was doing the flight training, didn't really see much point in comparing notes, yeah?" Subject cocks her head, begins drumming on the interview table. "And that tall girl reeked of Gravity. You talk to her yet? She's gonna give you a spin."

Everyone has their own perspectives on an event, Miss Wax. Its just my job to record your answers and provide what context is needed to understand your version of events. That's how you report on war.

"That sounds real nice, newsie, I can feel you on that, touch on the orbit you're offering. History's second-fiddle to memory. And I'm just saying, I remember the tall girl, and I remember she was heavy with Gravity, and she was always writin something. Cloak-and-needle kind of shit if you ask me."

And the Union Health Bureau NHP?

"Ivy-thinker was alright. Thinkers are like that. They've got that Gravity they can't shed, being stuck in a coffin. But she was good and helpful. Told me I couldn't share my Chronos with some officer, even though I was outta stuff to wager." Subject smiles, referring to a combat drug produced by IPS-N, graded for use by pilots with proper cybernetic implants to handle it. Given subject's full-body prosthesis and medical history of Temporal Dissociative Trauma Disorders, heavy use of the drug must be taken into account with her recollection of events. "Their rides were that bad, real slick machines- high grade stuff. Shame we had to do such a rush-job printing. A fresh print is bad for my Loverboy, he doesn't fly right without a warmup, you know?"

On that subject, would you mind discussing how your frame served on Kalacharr? I understand that Orbital Combat Frames aren't traditionally meant to serve in planetary actions.

"I can say, but it'd be better off if you asked my Loverboy."

I... don't see how I would interview an orbital combat frame?

"You know, for someone who spends so long out in the dark, you're terribly oldtype in your thinking, newsie."

I'm afraid I don't understand.

"I can do you a mem-dump from my Loverboy, I can send you his memories of the fight, when we're done here, yeah?"

If you have permission to show me... an NHPs memories? Do you have clearance for that?

"My Loverboy ain't one of the thinkers, he's just hisself." Subject waves her hand dismissively. She then produces a small lollipop from a pocket, beginning to eat as she speaks. "So I can get you his perspective. He was there same as me, and probably remembers better too."

Thank you, I'll include it at the end of this interview, as attached context.

"Yeah, that's stella newsie." Subject dances the lollipop across her fingers, then pops it back to her mouth "Do you have more, newsie?"

Yes, would you mind giving me your perspective on your performance under atmosphere?

"[Subject sighs] You got me newsie, okay. I was sick as one of you oldtypes when yall first come upwell, you familiar with the sensation? Awful stuff. My Loverboy, he don't dance so hot with a fresh print, and under Gravity he's gotta spend all his time adjusting his verniers." Subject stands, moving from her chair. She is walking on the points of her feet, speaking around her sweet. "My Loverboy n me, we ain't built for Gravity, for walkin like oldtypes. We were meant to fly, yaknow newsie?" Subject continues to pace slightly, stretching her legs? Running through memories? "So yeah, downwell, I run like shit and its hard. Hate doing it. But I do it better. Shimano Rail-Rifle and Trunk Security Special handle most everything you put in front of us." Subject shrugs. "Rest of the crew they handled atmosphere better'n me."

Could you discuss the logistical situation of Seventh Step?

“Yeah yeah, Oleander was in near orbit and the well was too strong to just drop shit, so all the baby Grays had to use their backs and landers and shift it down. Most of the weight was schedule printers and ‘mat for em. Had to put my Loverboy together on a fresh print.”

You’ve said as much, Miss Wax

“Oh, yeah. Anyways the printers and the bodies were most of the weight capacity coming downwell. Gray set up camps once the Percivals were done sending the ironboys truly to the fuckin stone age.”

Can you describe the camp?

“It was a camp on a front line, newsie, you must already know what it was like.”

Yes, I’ve been to several, including frontline encampments as part of Blue Nomad’s cleanup, but what's important is your perspective on things. You're the primary source here.

"Okay, fine, newsie. Fine. I had to sleep on the way down from the Oleander. I had to carry my borgrations and most of my Loverboy's core components, yah? Shit that's important gets heavy when you finally get downwell. That's just the tax Gravity makes you fucking pay, like the shit it is..." Subject returns to her chair, hopping over its back. She takes advantage of microgravity with natural grace. "But once we were down it was, what, a little town? Cramped, tents, weight, and plenty of fuckin mud. I can't walk right down there, ain't meant for dirt. Didn't have a bite to eat except halfa ration bar. You ever have a borgration? Humans can still eat 'em I mean, right?"

I haven't, Miss Wax. I am uncertain if my stomach could handle SSC products of that… processing level.

"They're sweet. Really sweet. Brains need a lotta glucose, right? So most of a borgration is sugars, and them diet-acids. Calories and bits just for fullborgs. I eat ‘em when I gotta be on deploy. Easier than Gray Meals on the stomach, at least under Gravity.”

You mentioned your mech’s core systems are something you brought with you from the Oleander?

“Had to get my Loverboy into his new body, once the printing was done. Few dozen kilos of hardware. Easier to handle upwell than down, yeah newsie? Hyperkinesis Module is hard to reprint and retool, so I just gotta rip out its canisters and carry em with me- otherwise my Loverboy’s mixtures are gonna be off. Gotta haul down his targeting comps and the mute drives too, so when I pull his trigger it goes just right.”

You, pulled most of your mech’s main computer systems out and brought them down from the Oleander?

“Only way to fly right. My Loverboy’s got silicon the way we got fat in our skulls. And he’s gotta be up to grade if we’re gonna be fighting. And we were fighting, that’s why we’re talkin.”

Of course. So that was your experience with the logistics of Seventh Step?

“Ah yeah. At least the parts I still remember.”

I noticed in the reports that you fought alongside native resistance forces, could you describe their logistical situation?

"Fuck if I know?"

... I see. Could you describe their basic armament?

"Swords? A couple of 'em got rifles from the Gray-n-blues? Paleo-oldtype shit."

I would like to ask something before we dig into your combat actions.

Subject makes a sound of affirmation. She seems more caught up in her sweet.

Why do you refer to the Kalacharrians the way you do?

[Subject pauses at the question, movement does not cease completely.]

“Because. Look. You Gray love your distinctions. I am not Gray. I am of the weightless. I’m a Spacenoid. You and yours are Gray. They, the knightboys and the inkgirls, they’re oldtypes like you. But they learned that there was more than mud about when the Oleander dropped into the atmo. Can’t even conceive of Gravity. Paleo-oldtypes. Just a statement of fact, of, how the line those admin types use? Material conditions.” Subject spreads her hands wide, speaking around the lollipop.

“I’m the future, they’re the past. Gotta catch up, newsie.”

I see. Would you like us to continue, to your combat experiences, or would you prefer a short recess?

“Let’s keep it going, newsie. CO is paying me to talk about shit I already did.”

Alright. How would you describe the forces you encountered during Seventh Step?

“Shitty. Recycled. Kinda an insult to frames, strapped together by the most dipshit kind of Babylon. They had like three Everests worth of parts they scraped together from fuck-knows-where.”

Records show it was the Mechanized Scout Company and repair parts stolen from logistics convoys.

“Huh. Makes sense yeah. Had damn more frames than three though. Mostly groundcars with mech bits stapled on and fuckin, the shitcan birds.”

Do you mean the... Bronze Thrushes?

"Where'd they get that fuckin name, huh?"

I don't know, that's merely what the Union combat record states the enemy forces were named, by Kalacharri forces. The Bronze Thrushes operated the artillery emplacement "Lilypad."

"I guess, they had birds on them. Real fuckin shitboxes."

First contact was on a convoy mission?

"Uh-huh, had to make sure the graytreads got where they needed to be, find and recover the mechkiddies who ended up murked. By fuckin dipshits in tinsteel fits, makes me a shamed to have trained them. And then the fuckin tinsteel assholes rolled up on us after we'd found the wrecks they'd stripped down. Just usin the mud to get shit trapped and jump it, guess that's all they could manage? My Loverboy gave 'em a warhorn blast, tallgirl ignited her frame, most of 'em got to runnin."

Do you usually attempt to break morale before engaging?

"I dunno about tallgirl, way she laughed about it? Probably. But my Loverboy wants folks to know he's here. I only got time to dance with folks that know their steps."

And the rest of the squad?

"Hell I don't know. I got moving, and one of the fuckin things, had himself some A/A guns and a hot printer. Had to fuck with him while tallgirl ate some fool."

I'm sorry?

"Yeah. Just let the swarm come outta her frame and swallow one of the big birds up, a proper frame-print, kinda. You know how GMS parts are, right? Even paleo-oldtypes can fit 'em together into technicals. She fed him to the fire and the butterflies. Only good taste she got was in butterflies. Soldierboy settled down to pick his targets, Ivy-thinker helped me tangle with the fucker with the printer, a couple of hellfire rounds and railshots solve all under heaven after all, newsie." Subject pulls legs up, crossing them underneath her before the spin-gravity settles her back to the seat. "So tallgirl started eaten 'em with that blackswarm she got, soldierboy slams a few big rounds home, Ivy-thinker lays down the fire on that printfucker and his A/As with me."

The... Miss Irene? The Karrakin Civilian Observer, is that who you mean by 'tallgirl'? I just want to clarify

"Yeah?"

I... see.

"So we bring down the printerfucker and his toys and then more of those fucking birds show up, yeah? More of the fucking technical-ass frames the birds slapped their mark on. They didn't last when Ivy-thinker and Soldierboy went to town, and my Loverboy he just laid his finger on the trigger and let it sing!" Subject cocks her head, listening to something I cannot hear. "That's what I do while I dance, I pull his trigger and make him sing for me. And when my Loverboy sings, everybody's gotta look or duck when the rifle barks behind him, [Subject giggles to herself, as though sharing a joke]. Then the graytread finally pulled its happyass out of the mud, which meant we get to keep fucking going. Which was... towards this oldtype town?"

By the records, this is when the forces of the Azure Cloth made first contact.

"Oh."

Do you... remember them, particularly clearly?

"There was this knightboy, Ram-" Subject refers to Ramaul Travail, leader of the Azure Cloth resistance movement. "-and this inkgirl, Clem." Sister Clemencine of the Holy Orders. "Tallgirl and Ivy-thinker, they talked to Ram about... something? Movin? Ram had to talk through Clem, and I was feeling the weight. Kept my endo linked with my Loverboy and listened to tallgirl and Ivy-thinker go through the routines. I think soldierboy was chewing out the baby-grays for driving into a fucking hole in the ground." Subject's shoulders shrug. "I can't blame them, Gravity sucks shit down. So does mud. That's why I fucking hate planets, newsie. Mud. What kind of nightmare shit do you oldtypes live with?"

Is there anything else you can recall about the first contact scenario, you say it was overseen by Civilian Observer Irene Sibyl and UHB-Ivy?

"Yeah like. I talked over radio a little bit, but I don't think the linguasofts could keep up."

Is there... anything else you remember?

Subject ceases all motion for approximately 2.3 seconds, then continues, annoyed. "I was hung the fuck over from the weight and the heat of my Loverboy rooting around in my fuckin endocrine through the lines he's got in my kidneys." Subject shudders, smiles. "When you've got a girl's hands in your implants, the weight gets off your shoulders for a minute. I finally didn't feel like spilling my guts onto my Loverboy's pretty console like I was still new to my body." Subject cocks her head, I can feel her staring at me through her bangs. "That's just the perfect kind of love, an antidote to Gravity. My lover's embrace is just the shit to shake free of all the shit I was dealin with. So no, newsie, I didn't really remember the first time I saw those paleo-oldtypes in their tinsteel fits."

Once again I appreciate your... candor, with me.

Would you mind describing for me the route you took to the town of Morta? I understand there was further enemy contact?

"Ram dragged our happy asses through the..." Subject's brow furrows under her hair, I assume from focus and annoyance. "Forest? It had plants, dug into the earth. Big stuff, couldn't survive on hydroponics, yeah newsie?"

I would understand it being very difficult terrain for your frame.

"I mean, it didn't STOP my Loverboy. It's not that different from an asteroid field, in terms of how you fly." Subject waves her hand dismissively.

The record describes the second encounter as another ambush, would you describe it as that?

"I mean, I'd say more a buncha the birds ran up on us while we was babysitting the paleo-oldtypes and the graytreads. They had trees that was nasty as all get out."

Trees?

"Yeah, ones that moved, tried to grab and pull and shred. Thorns and tendrils. Nasty shit, newsie. Soldierboy and Ivy-thinker handled the birdie-frames while me n tallgirl kept the trees busy busy. Butterflies on branches, and tallgirl and I painted 'em in fire. Things wouldn't fucking stop."

And that's when Percival squadron was dispatched to aide?

"Yeah. And you know, newsie, those flyboys could dance. And they had the heavy-busters we needed for the trees. I had to go up with 'em, show 'em the path to dance through the roots and twigs. Tallgirl burned it open behind me. And the flyboys dropped it home." Subject claps and smiles around her lollipop. "Wish they'd let me just keep going with that heartbreaking blue. CO started yellin at me about Minovsky interference with the flyboy's gear." Subject suddenly shifts to sighing, shoulders sagging. "Who the fuck doesn't account for Minovsky particle radiation?"

Most engines in Union don't provoke a Minovsky reaction, from my understanding.

"If you aren't pulling the bleeding speed, why would you use anything else?"

I don't think designers consider that level of speed required, in aerospace encounters.

"Well my Loverboy only deserves the best." Subject sounds quite proud.

Would you say that you participated in the bombing run by Percival 1-1 and 1-2?

"Yeah, course I would, I opened up the tanks and I moved right with them. Lotsa shots into the trees. I didn't bring any really heavy busters. Rail-rifle and a day-off special kind of gun." Subject makes a small crunch, informing me she has finished her sweets.

Would now be a good time to discuss your frame's specifics?

"Oh, you want me to brag about my Loverboy?" Subject is grinning at me. She seems smug.

I'm merely trying to follow your flow, Miss Wax- I feel it'll get me the best information for my report and articles. It's important to engage subjects for primary sources at their level. That is how I feel you get the best stories for the record- the people who lived it. I'm going to edit this interview with context points, an article that folds out like a flower.

[The subject smiles again me, using the stick of her lollipop to point in my direction.]

"Orbital Combat Frame Lot Zero-Nine-Nine, Bonney Model, Hi Mobility Custom Type. My Loverboy. He's the real deal, not like the basics those oldtypes in Trunk Security use. Overhauled his engines, all-theater graded with some parts I stripped outta one of those Cinnibars that the Smiths like to fly in."

The Smith-Shimano Cinnabar? The fleet asset?

[Subject nods, flicks her trash towards the bin, then continues. She seems happy to 'brag' and watch the small stick drift through the air.]

"Worked the All-Theater under his hood, hooked it to that minovsky core I got printed up, run him hot as he oughta be. Let the heat bleed out the fingers, a burning hand of sunlight- ain't that what every girl wants to hold?" Subject does not wait for me to answer. "Pulls speeds in excess of fatal for the oldtype, unconscious for the unborged, and perfect for me. Got my own replacement tendons and a couple of backup pumps layered here and there- just to make Her perfect for Loverboy's kind of movement. If I don't have to listen to reason, I can fly beyond the hold of Gravity. Even on a mudball like they sent us too. Kitted to bear against the nasty little shits you tend to run into with oldtypes and their skirmishes- chaff, hellfire launcher, a couple of my Loverboy's spare brain-drives set like gemstones in the guns. Mute-drives that help the rail-rifle scream and the trunk special to roar. Kitted to handle all fucking comers downwell."

That helpfully covers your frame and provides our future listeners with understanding of its use at tactical scale. At the campaign scale, it's still quite... odd, to use an Orbital Combat Frame as part of a ground invasion force, especially against a walled position like Morta, wouldn't you agree?

"Is... is that what the town was named? It didn't have walls when we got there."

Yes.

"Okay, well, the birdies had pounded it pretty fucking flat, no walls no trees, no nothing but for a half-full bin of ammoprinters and the biggest fucking rock-chucker I have ever seen. I used to work in asteroid mining back on Ketherese, right? We'd crack them open, use mass-drives to hurl the bits back. Paleo-oldtypes had done some whack shit, the most busted fucking rock-slinger I've ever had the pleasure of seeing." Subject moves her position again, gently pushing off the seat. She curls her knees to her chest, hands loosely clasped in front of her ankles. She seems to be enjoying the spin-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris. "Those tinsteel reactionary wet dream idiots had strung together a rock-flinger with some rails off a cannon one of the Everests had on it, they were acceleratin dumbfire rockets out of it instead of stone."

And that would be the Lilypad, I presume.

"It looked kind of like a cock."

Thank you.

"Do you think there's something about Babylon that makes oldtypes want to make giant dick-guns to lose wars with."

Would you mind describing the methods used to bring down the Lilypad?

"Yeah. Inkgirl had her stained fingers in a couple of pies, got a few locals who knew how to work shaped charges we had in the graytreads, a couple of squads of stiff-suited baby-grays to escort 'em to the rock-slinger and kick it over with plastique kisses. And we were gonna make sure the baby-grays didn't have a chance to lose their shit."

And how did the Mechanized Strike Team manage that tactic?

"Well tallgirl sallied up and started yellin at the Bronze Birdies in that great and grand pigshit crownfuckers call langauge."

Old Karrakin?

"Yeah that. Was declarin names and calling for trial by combat with the biggest, shiniest bird of all. This fucker had a command horn and everything on the shitbox ride some poor paleo-oldtype chained by the wet dreams of Babylon managed to scav together out of GMS parts. He thought he was such hot shit, at the head of his gaggle of Babylon-baby Everests. Stepped up with a swagger in that wreck, his boys at his flank, nodding along to tallgirl's routine. That's when soldierboy put one through his ride's thigh. [Subject laughs.] Loverboy took off and started laying the fire down from heaven, Ivy-thinker and tallgirl just started sprinting towards the birds. Then the rockslinger went off."

The explosive charges detonated early?

"Nah. Rockslinger fired, a big dumb shitty round directly at us. Loverboy n me, we were fine, easy to dodge a dumbfire. Ivy-thinker had to haul ass to get outta the way, and soldierboy dug the fuck in."

And Civilian Observer Irene?

"Tallgirl walked through the barrage like it was nothin, cause she was wearing the flames as much as they were trying to eat her. I'd call it beautiful if I didn't think she was gonna put a needle in your eye if you asked her what her family did to afford such a nice fuckin suit, or the name of the doctor what touched her meat up."

Subject ceases all motion for approximately 6.7 seconds, only beginning to show animation again when she finally gently settles back onto her seat.

"It was just a fight after that. Those scrap-Everests were nearly tough as real things. Don't know how much of their tinsteel I had to chew through. Remember that soldierboy got himself a crown."

Could you explain that turn of phrase for me?

"Headshot, clean as fresh filters. I folded a little paper crown for our soldierboy and hung it from the cannon of his ride before I left. Wonder if he ever found it?"

Would you say the Bronze Thrushes were above your expectations for the enemy forces?

"Mm." Subject has yet to move from her fetal pose. "Not too much more. They actually put us through our paces. But when you're good you don't sweat just getting up to tempo, right newsie?"

I suppose not, would you mind continuing your description of the battle?

"Oh yeah, Ivy-Thinker and tallgirl closed on most of the birdies, I saw the damnedest thing out of the thinker's ride. Just pinned one of the birdies down like she was playing with samples in the lab. Big stake, hummed in silence, drove through. And I kept firing and she kept moving to go fight the birdie with the command horn. Tallgirl cleaned up the one that got pinned down. More and more and more of those shitbox rides, the half-builts, the not-even frames start pouring in, we're throwing up a ruckus and tallgirl actually gets wounded, which I didn't think that nice a suit would allow. My Loverboy gets dinged up in the spin of it all, so I suppose we just mark that up to being stuck in atmo, huh newsie?" Subject is now sitting.. normally? She has moved to lean against the table, holding herself millimeters above the chair. "We get rocked and roughed a little from the sheer numbers, but you know, I had enough ammo, and so did soldierboy. Professional that one. Good for him. Ivy-thinker's ride started puttin scapels into things and I just kept pushing dipshits closer to tallgirl and let that nice nice swarm she paid for handle it. Unpapered crowns are good for the garbage, I guess?"

Subject makes a noncommittal grunt and shrugs, settling into her seat at last.

"We kept going and going, until the tinsteel finally ran out and the inkgirls and knightboys got the hell outta there. And then the rockslinger cooked off. Reaallll impressive. Newcycle kind of vibes." Subject refers to derivatives cultural festivals of the new year, modified for nonterrestial cultures. "Very shiny. Fun as hell."

Were you aware of the follow up operation Union enacted after Seventh Step, Blue Nomad?

"Nope. I was tryin to get out of there quick as I could. Back up to the Oleander at the very least. Left the oldtypes to their own businesses. It ain't my fuckin problem unless Union decides to pay me about it."

So you left the front?

"Yeah." Subject gives another noncommittal shrug. "The Paris came by to start dropping shit off to support Oleander, and I hitched a ride on the Paris out this way. Supposed to be headed for the Long Rim. Anything else, newsie?"

I don't think so. If you could just forward me the information from your frame via omni? I believe otherwise our interview is over.

"Fantastic."

With the Union Historical Bureau, Active Front Correspondence Division, Kalacharri Commission, this has been Mu Ortena interviewing Miss Allison Wax. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Wax, and for your memories.

"Memories are the only Gravity you can't shed, newsie. So take the orbit and run with it."

#lancer rpg #lancer oc #lancer fic #Allison & Loverboy #doing interviews about games you played is fun i hope ya'll like this.

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the-consortium · 6 months

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To Fabius:

Maybe you are just gone senile at this point. Maybe the symptoms of the Blight coming back are you receding brain and hairline.

"You're pulling my leg! I don't believe it!" Arrian's voice is filled to the brim with absolute disbelief. - "No, no, it's true!" Saqqara seems to be having devilish fun providing his friend with strange historical facts. "They believed that you had to insult the object of your desire in order to undermine their self-esteem and thus suggest that, despite being an obvious loser, you were a good match. Or at least the best the poor victim could expect to get." - "The people in the early days of Terra were really daft. It's a wonder we made it to the stars at all without dying out first." Arrian shakes his head and wants to get back to his book.

But Saqqara has of course not yet finished his thoughts. "And if the Lord Commander Primus of the Emperor's Children thinks he has to use this absolutely strange tactic with the Chief Apothecary, I should at least give him some support!"

Arrian puts the book down again. "Please don't. Just for once! Delete the thing and let it go!" - "Oh come on! Just read it! It's so pathetic! Eidolon needs help!" - "No, he doesn't! And even if he did, what's your idea of how this should end? A dinner-and-holovid date by romantic candlelight?"

Saqqara shrugs his shoulders. "It doesn't have to go that far. But if they get on a bit better than they do now, it can't hurt."

The World Eater knows when the point is reached when Saqqara can no longer be dissuaded from a plan and the proverbial stubbornness of the Word Bearers has prevailed in him. And he knows that all he can do then is step aside and sweep up the pieces afterwards. So he just sighs in surrender and opens his book again. "Good luck then!" - Luck has nothing to do with it! So … what's the best thing to write …"

From Saqqara Ur-Damak Thresh, Diabolist in the service of Lieutenant Commander Fabius, Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children to the attention of Eidolon, the Auric Hammer, Lord Commander Primus and Lord of the Phoenix Conclave!

I can proudly say that I have now spent a long time studying the whims of the Chief Apothecary and am therefore in a position to actually give advice on how to reliably get his attention. Simple insults will get you nowhere. It bores him and he will soon stop responding. He needs intellectual stimuli. If you think you have to attack him verbally - a tactic that I don't think is ideal in this case - you should do it very carefully and with a lot of rhetorical finesse. Use language as a scalpel, not a hammer! Work with figures of speech and, best of all, leave the insults entirely and focus on offering him something! Riddles, allusions to old Terran texts, quotes from long-dead philosophers - that's his thing! You'll grab his attention. Offer him something he can't resist - in intellectual terms! If you like, I can proofread your next letter first.

Gods be with you,

Saqqara

#warhammer #fabius bile #the consortium #ask post #Eidolon

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wh40kgallery · 6 days

Text

Auric Hammer

by Leszek Woźniak

#chaos #slaanesh #traitor legions #heretic astartes #astartes #emperors children #bionics #leszek woźniak #30k #40k

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omniversalobservations · 1 year

Photo

Spider-Man: The Gathering of the Sinister Six (1999)

The Machiavelli Club, mentioned on pages 34-35 of Gathering of the Sinister Six, as well as pages 162-163 of Revenge of the Sinister Six, was founded by Professor James Moriarty, from the Sherlock Holmes stories "The Final Problem," "The Adventure of the Empty House," and the novel The Valley of Fear. Its members include various rogues from comic books, movies, prose fiction, and so forth:

* The waiter at the Macchiavelli Club is Henry from Asimov's BLACK WIDOWER stories. * Wilson Fisk (The Kingpin) * Obadiah Stane (The Iron Monger) from Iron Man. * Gruber brothers: Anton Gruber first appeared in the prose novel Nothing Lasts Forever by Roderick Thorp (a sequel to his homosexual murder mystery The Detective). Anton Gruber was basically a Baader-Meinof/Red Army Faction-style terrorist. He was renamed Franz Gruber for the film Die Hard, while his brother Simon appeared in Die Hard With a Vengeance. * Doctor Fu Manchu is obviously "the long-lived oriental gentleman" that the Gentleman refers to. (Although later on it is said that the Gentleman harbors prejudice against the Chinese, he makes no snide remarks about Doctor Fu Manchu.) The Gentleman believes that Doctor Fu Manchu is dead due to the events of Master of Kung Fu #118, though he showed up alive and well in Marvel Knights I #4. Marvel currently refers to him as the Ghost, due to licensing issues. * Auric is Auric Goldfinger, from the Ian Fleming novel. Auric is derived from the Latin word for gold, from which its elemental symbol, Au, is derived. * Lex is Lex Luthor. * Justin Hammer is an Iron Man villain. * "The German Herr Taubman." An alias used by a recurring villain called "The Deaf Man" in "The 87th Precinct" novels by Ed McBain. Great novels BTW. (Taubman is German for deaf man as I recall.) Here's a clip from a fan site. * The Wrightsville Diedrich Van Horn is from the Ellery Queen novel Ten Day's Wonder, written by Ellery Queen. (Ellery Queen was a sleuth created by two cousins who adopted his name as their pen name. He went to a town called Wrightsville for vacations. In the movies, Ralph Bellamy played Ellery Queen-Bellamy also appeared in two Eddie Murphy movies as one of the Duke brothers.) * Ras is Ra's Al Ghul, from the Distinguished Competition. * Soze is from the film The Usual Suspects. * Hannibal is Hannibal Lecter, from the novel Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, and later Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal. * Carmen is Carmen San Diego from the computer game and cartoon show. * Mr. Glass is from the film Unbreakable, as played by Samuel Jackson. * Napier refers to the Jack Napier, the Joker, from the 1989 Batman film. * Ernst is Ernst Blofeld from the Ian Fleming novel Thunderball. * Randolph and Mortimer Duke are from two Eddie Murphy films, Trading Places and Coming to America. While in both these films Randolph and Mortimer Duke, insider traders, were played by the same actors (Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy), Eddie Murphy was not playing the same person in these films, which were otherwise unrelated.

Although not mentioned as a member of the Machiavelli Club, Caspar Gutman worked with the Gentleman in the past, per page 166 of Secret of the Sinister Six. Casper Gutman comes from the Dashiell Hammett novel The Maltese Falcon, published in 1929.

Source: Marvel Universe Appendix

Carmen Sandiego is part of the Machiavelli Club, along with Jack Napier, Hannibal Lecter and Mr. Glass. Among others. Moriarty was a founding member, and the Gruber Brothers and a villain from an Ellery Queen novel have been members. The Gentleman briefly converses with two brothers, Randolph and Mortimer, who made their money on the futures exchange, and wonders how they earned a place at the club as they are no more 'evil' than standard stockbrokers.

Though not mentioned by name, Clint Eastwood, Robert Downey Jr. and Sylvester Stallone are all heavily implied to be attending Brick Johnson's funeral.

The cast from Scooby-Doo shows up at the end of the final book.

The 27th Precinct's Detective Briscoe takes statements.

Dr. Christian Szell is an old associate of The Gentleman.

Quentin Beck passes Cassady and Jesse.

In the third book, the Gentleman credits the inspiration for his overall Evil Plan to be a late associate of his named Auric.

One of the police officers in the third book is implied to be the son of Marge Gunderson.

Source: TV Tropes

(image via Amazon)

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archesa · 2 years

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have 2, 17, 28, and a free space from the gw2 asks! :D (i feel like i've missed a couple instances of you reblogging ask games recently, though i could be making that up alsjkdfadf, but i caught this one! xD) @kerra-and-company

Oooooh! These call for pics and long answers 😁

Thanks so much for these! 🥰

2. fave profession :

I got to say Guardian because I have a long history of playing paladins and valiant knights on several games (*cough* 12 years of WOW *cough* ) and I absolutely adore Anwen but, I've been playing a lot on my Necro lately and Æthnen has become my first character to go to if I want to chill, do map exploration or even meta events. I play him as a Reaper but rarely use the greatsword 😅 I feel like Trahearne would not have gone anywhere this kind of weapons of not for Caladbolg 😅 and since, for now, it's Anwen who weilds it...🌹

17. Your glider? (if you don’t have one, the one you want the most)

I got a few actually ^^' Elianora, both Anwens, Æthnen and Galaëd all have their own, personal glider that I wouldn't use on any other character no matter how much I love the skins, they're theirs!

Eli shifts between the Fox Spirit Glider, which fits her personality and is a little nod to her mini (you guessed! a fox!) and the Elemental Fury Glider.

Anwen Evergreen has the Crystalline Dragon Wings since (at least - jury’s still out regarding Anwen’s becoming as a dragon champion) Aurene's ascension.

Her elementalist counterpart, Anwen Swynwr has the Spellforged Glider (that her Guardian-self had before she used the crystalline wings)

Galaëd has the Lunar backpack and assorted glider! The funny part is, for other characters I chose the glider based on their story / personality. For Galaëd it was the other way ‘round. I got the Lunar backpack in a Black Lion chest, so I decided he loved fireflies and stars. From there @lilypixy pointed the connection with the Moon Shield, Canach being its current bearer, and bam! Two sylvari who thought they had found what the dream had showed them only to have their whole perspective shifted (Galaëd with the Green Knight, Canach with the Moon Shield).

And last but not least, Æthnen (aka my Trahearne clone for the two in the back 😁) has been very much nurtured back to health by the Exalted after the campaign of Maguuma, and as such he has the Exalted Glider (complete with Luminate’s Backplate Exalted Shoulders and Auric Weapons)

Avalwyn (my other Trahearne clone, yup I got two of them, don’t rub me the wrong way or I’ll show you my third! 😅) aka Druid!Hearne also has the Fox Spirit one, as a little nod to his Fernhound Caliborn.

28. What is your favorite legendary weapon?

I loved collecting stuff for Kudzu! I still have to upgrade the precursor to its actual Legendary form but I had a great time collecting the seeds for it! It tingled my herbalist sense nicely and fitted quite well in Anwen's themes and story!

And of course, since I'm an eenie-meanie I just have to collect Mordremoth's weapons for Æthnen ! I'll probably go with the staff but if @lilypixy 's conjecture is right and next Necro elite spec has the hammer as its weapon I will full on embrace it and give Trahearne a very nice not at all corrupted by any dragon what are you on about hammer!

Let Trahearne smash things with a hammer! He deserves it!

Mordremoth, dead, somewhere in the Mists, with its siblings : I gave my Champion my weapons! Look how stylish he is!

Kralk, being the only lucid one in their brood, probably : Fucked up a perfectly good scion is what you did! Look at him, he’s got anxiety!

Edit : I forgot the free space! I used a random number generator and got 37, so...

37. Your favorite HoT event?

I have to say the Octovine! Yeah of course it's extremely infuriating when you get slackers and auto attackers but if run right it's so very satisfying! The loot is sweet and even the 'Event failed' cutscene is heartbreaking!

Apart from that I would say the first event from the Pale Reavers outpost, in Verdant Brink! That was the moment I truly felt the weight of the mantle of Commander (and I loved it 😅🤣), when you make a stand atop that cliff with the wreckage of the fleet still burning on the horizon and the mordrem swarming below — especially when Laranthir's so relieved and happy to see you!

#archesa answers #elianora #anwen evergreen #anwen swynwr #æthnen #avalwyn #blighting pod au #trahearne lives au #trahearne lives au²

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rafater-art · 3 years

Photo

#Auric #Runemaster done for cubicle7 some months ago (c) Games Workshop. Hi-res and extra sketches on my artstation (link in bio)😉 . . #dwarf #warhammer #ageofsigmar #hammer #rune #digitalart #digitalillustration #hammering #art #artofinstagram #artcollector #rafater #artofrafater . https://www.instagram.com/p/CUSjO0RtC5A/?utm_medium=tumblr

#auric #runemaster #dwarf #warhammer #ageofsigmar #hammer #rune #digitalart #digitalillustration #hammering #art #artofinstagram #artcollector #rafater #artofrafater

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reinepadova · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen

[←Previous] | Chapter 6 | [ Next → ]

“The person who removes a mountain, begins by carrying away small stones.”

Sweet, bright, and floral – words that encapsulate the enticing smell wafting up from a beautifully carved tea tray, with the decanted water flowing down into its grooves to a catch basin underneath. Two pinming tea cups, already warmed and rinsed – painted in a beautiful array of geometric patterns – are a matched set with the tea pitcher currently pouring the first infusion.

“Your tea, Miss.” A large gloved hand – dark and unassuming, except for the dull shimmer of a large jade ring at its thumb, and a shining topaz gem cut in a sharp diamond at the wrist – pushed the filled drink with practiced ease near a seated figure, whose garbs of soft greens, subtle blues, and hints of black, signify a distant relation to the deceased.

“Thank you,” the figure said, her hand reaching for a cup, her head tilted to the unadorned wall. Though her arms seem relaxed, her shoulders were stiff, while her legs were tucked sideways, like a force of habit. She made a fine picture of poise and sophistication from afar, but perfectly humble in her mourning up close.

The host hummed graciously, savoring his first sip, noting the elegance in her figure despite the rather defensive posture. Hmm. If she remains unmoving, pain shall spread on her lower back.

“This drink is made from an evergreen shrub, which grows abundant at Jueyun Karst,” he began, calm dignity resonating in his voice. “It is said to be a place where the adepti enjoy their seclusion, hence the people's reluctance to disturb it's grounds. As such, these leaves are very rare. Only skilled herb gatherers that inherited the wisdom – and the courage – to traverse these lands are able to obtain them.”

“I see,” she replied, an empty cup waiting for a second infusion. He obliged and continued.

“Notice it's yellow hue? It is an accidental discovery. The color of dried tea leaves is normally green, with a taste that range from bittersweet to nutty, or from floral to oceanic. Some, on the other hand, would go so far as to liken it to simple vegetation. 'Grassy', they would say. Hmm. Tea may not be their beverage of choice.”

“Fascinating,” his guest replied, even tone barely hiding polite disinterest. He quirked a slight brow but remained undeterred - he's had encounters with people more ornery in years past.

As curious as her passively hostile behavior towards him has been for the past few days, he shall not stoop low to the level of the ignorant – like those at the marketplace, who circulate hearsays that leave much to be desired. He's only grateful young Mei is spared, for he may start questioning the integrity of his people.

He turned auric eyes down to his cup, watching the idle swirl of the liquid within.

He may only know just the surface of her troubles – like the vague taste of anguish from the void of her dreams – but he's determined to release the pressure through the cracks of her facade, like flushing steam from a smoking mount.

He knows beneath a calm mountain, lies a dissonance that could erupt, painfully and forcefully, at any given moment.

“But years ago, it is said a farmer had forgotten to dry out a batch of these leaves. And a cloth, flung free from a drying line, landed from above, sealing the warm moisture on them shut for a full summer's day. To the farmer's delight, the taste of the finished tea turned light and mellow, and the so-called grassy flavor gone without consequence. This procedure is now known as 'sealing yellow', the widely accepted finish for the tea we enjoy now.”

“How interesting.”

“Quite so.”

Hmm. Mayhaps the origins of tea may not be of interest?

Silence reigned heavily on the two tea companions, like too much burnt incense hanging in the air. A low cough from one tried to break through the discomfort, while the other remained resolutely silent.

“Would you prefer a different drink? We have other varieties that may be more palatable for your taste.”

The lady seem to snap out of thought, shaking her head insistently while eyeing the gloved hand that moved to remove her cup. “No. That's unnecessary. This will do. Thank you for your service,” she dismissed, gently but concisely, with an unconscious hand rubbing at her eyes.

“Is there nothing else I may assist in?” he asked, subdued, concern coloring his words. His uncharacteristically tilted head missed entirely by the lady's distraction.

“No,” came the tired reply, an undertone of exasperation escaping in the same breath.

“...nothing at all?”

She seem to take a deep breath, holding it for a minute, before letting it out in one, even sigh.

Not far from the one-sided conversation, peeking at the side of a privacy screen, the seventy-seventh director of Wangsheng looked on, a feline smile stretched across her face. She watched, with growing giddiness, at the most hilarious drama she'd ever witness in her waking years yet!

“Hu Tao-zhǔrèn? Should we not intervene?” Ferrylady whispered, glancing worriedly at the guest lounge herself. She wanted to help dispel such a morose atmosphere, as ironic as that is, for it is her duty for an honored guest, as well as to their noble consultant.

“Shhh~ Not now, Ferrylady. This is getting good.”

“But, madam, this has been going on for three days. Progress is no where to be found.”

“Exactly. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to this place!”

"Madam. 'Exciting' is counterproductive to what we strive for in this business."

Ferrylady knew her young boss would have squealed if not for their absolute need for discretion.

No good thing comes from eavesdropping such a private exchange after all.

Hu Tao just hushed her again, silently crawling forward to get a better view. The shadow of the large vase their dear consultant insisted they buy the other day made for a good hiding spot. Something about its story being a distraction for the distraught passed through her mind.

“Miss Ferrylady? H-Hu-zhǔrèn? Why are you crouching down there?”

The two snapped their attention to their new employee, who wore a very bemused expression while pulling at the collar of his stiff uniform.

“Shh! Meng, do you want the troubled souls in the parlor to catch your feet? Drop down behind us now and complete the formation. This is your first assignment~” Hu Tao murmured seriously, an unreadable twinkle reflecting in her eyes. Meng would have gasped out loud if he hadn't slapped his hands over his mouth.

He swiftly did as he was told, back brushing against the wall in the cramped space, before he swiveled worried eyes all around them. Ferrylady just sighed, familiar with their director's ways of keeping someone quiet.

“Now keep quiet for the next half hour you two. Act Two is about to begin~”

-{-}-

Stella mildly wondered if it would be child neglect to jump from the pier right outside the parlor, leaving Mei all alone. It's the only thing she could think of right now to prevent herself from strangling this, this – ugh! This persistent man!

She knows there is a custom of not speaking with customers, out of respect for old tradition – but this one seem to have missed the memo.

Before the day Mei's grandmother passed, the old woman had enough breath to tell her where she wished to have her wake, what she and Mei should wear, what their manners should be during mourning period, and other matters relating to Mei's future.

But despite her meticulous notetaking – her brushstrokes needed lots of work, she knows – Stella still felt unprepared for the kind of reception she received at the infamous Wangsheng ever since their return back at the Harbor.

After tucking in a sleepy Mei in her room, Stella went straight to the parlor, placing three of the Glaze Lilies in the simple pots she requested in advance, nestling them in between wreaths of white flowers surrounding the covered body.

When she finished burning the joss paper for a final offering, she jumped at the male voice directly from behind her. Whirling around, her heart skipped a beat, brows falling low at his short salutation.

The gentleman before her wore a suit that was subtle in opulence, and elegant in form – a large contrast to the uniform worn by the undertakers that assisted her and Mei before taking off to Qingce Village. She noted the thick rings that contrasted against his gloves – rings worn on the thumb, symbolizing the authority the wearer wields, as well as the arrogance boasting of wealth. Her brow had twitched.

“Good evening. May I ask why is the boss of Wangsheng seeing me?” she inquired, arms crossed. Its the only explanation for someone of importance to act like a host in the dark hall.

Despite the hammering beat in her chest, and the lost of color from her face, she stood tall with a firm stance – bracing herself in case this man mocks her for her ignorance. But when no sound of condescension came, she felt unsettled, and focused on his shining tie instead.

It's an unfortunate habit she has around these types she has yet to break, but a good enough technique to show they still have her attention. They usually have some sort of trinket on them – a silken pocket square, an heirloom brooch, or a collar clip – so its not difficult to direct her eye near their neck.

She could have glanced up to a point near their ear, to give the illusion of eye contact - but she didn’t want to remember their face, she has no interest to know of it, to know of them. She has no plans of interacting with this person ever, if she could manage it.

But she was brought out of her thoughts by a sudden chuckle, a smooth and sonorous sound, like rumbling thunder in the distance. It was not taunting or haughty, like she had expected. It sounds like a relief of tension – like heavy rainfall after a long dry spell. Stella took a step back, surprised at her passing thought that it sounded attractive. “I am not the boss of this hallowed hall, much to the confusion of most. You are not the only one who assume so. I am merely one of its consultants. Wangsheng caters to all needs, no matter the status, affiliation, or ethnicity. Hence its forthright pursuit for various advisors in order to fulfill any request – for the benefit of the living, and those that have passed.

I myself do my best to be of assistance to any of our customers, when present.”

“That's, uh, nice?” Stella stuttered, utterly speechless. Not because the explanation lacked clarity – it’s actually worded very eloquently – but because this man, this consultant, was still talking to her, despite the lack of eye contact – a discourtesy these types would easily recognize. It was practically beaten into her head that it was a shameful habit, growing up – that no man would want to be her husband if she does not get over it.

Which motivated her more to never want marriage.

She could feel his eyes roving over her face, the path of their focus mostly resting on her cheeks –surprisingly, never straying down. “Indeed. And if I may say so, you seem to need a boost of energy. Or perhaps a good rest. We offer drinks that could assist you with either. If you allow it, I will prepare it to your liking.”

She tucked her head down, not knowing what to say. Not because she felt flattered or embarrassed by the attention of such an attractive-sounding individual.

But... the thing is –

She hates men.

She really, really hates men.

Growing up in a household that treated her more like a prize than a living being, she had no real choice on how to live her life. Powerful men of elevated backgrounds would strut before her, fluttering their clothes made from rare threads to show off their affluence, leering in greed and unwanted desire at her place behind a special dais – layers of gauzy silks the only physical protection she has from their disgusting gazes. But they were never thick enough for her to block out the absolutely dark intentions in their eyes, nor the reverberating hunger in their sleazy words. It made her skin crawl badly every time – feeling phantom insect's feet trail up and down her arms, creeping sludge up her throat, until it claw up to the sensitive skin of her scalp. No matter how much she bathes in scorching hot water after every encounter, skin scrubbed raw and red, she never manages to erase the feeling right away. Only in sleep could she hope to find peace.

If she even could.

They tell her that her feelings were irrelevant. Her treatment – expected. After all, everyone is led to believe she inherited attributes that show she has the blood of those that dwell in the heavens – in the upper universe that human beings could only dream to reach. And thus her body is seen as a sacred vessel, a carrier for future generations to come – perfect beings that would never suffer from mortal wounds, or mortal illnesses. The mother that shall birth the perfect world. You are one being that can propagate, and produce the most flawless humans the world has ever seen. Humans that would become the paragon for everyone else to aspire to! –

Stella scoffed mutely, unfolding her arms, before stepping back into place. That was what her foolish cousin had thought. Had believed. Had obsessed.

He was a brilliant scholar. A specialist of the unknown. And a zealous believer of their family's history and sacred roots. His fixation with perfection is a flaw in and of itself. A selfish desire that eventually led to everyone's death – especially one she held most dear – Selene. Her sister by name, if not by direct blood. The only relative that actually cared for her, that loved her, that protected her when no one else would.

Selene was the one that taught her how to sing – how to hone the beauty in her voice. She taught her how to fight – with a weapon used by an ancestor who fought her fate until the last of her breath.

Selene taught a many great things, especially other skills that would have otherwise been useless if she was still in her own world – a world that pampered her like a sacred idol, with wings clipped short in a gilded cage.

The very memory of Selene dying in her arms serve as a reminder to never be selfish. To be mindful. To remember that even just one person's open hand is enough to live life for.

But, right now, with her muscles straining from holding her stiff position for so long, she is very much in a mindset to defy her own oath.

She really hates men.

But... she's trying not to. She has to not to – for Meilin's sake:

Most of the fishmongers at the harbor are men – Mei loves seafood.

Most of the chefs are men – Mei loves well-cooked food.

All of the guards are men – Mei trusts them to protect their house and harbor.

If not for Mei, Stella would have gone to live as a hermit by now, fishing or hunting for her own meals, cultivate her own harvests, or protect herself from foolish thieves.

For Mei, she will persevere. For Mei, she will try.

But –

She really hates men.

Specifically, this type of man.

Those greedy monsters cloaked in beauty and money. That speak well of culture and knowledge – both useless, and worthless. For it is a mere show of having been educated on knowledge the masses could not afford to have.

Her heart had not skipped a beat because she finds him attractive – she still doesn’t know what he looks like. But from his clothes, his manners, his flowery words, she could only conclude one thing: this is the type of husband her family had wanted. The traditional type that wanted a traditional wife.

Out of all the typical traits that kind of wife should have: bearing many children, many perfect children, was the main goal. All the while she must always be silent, until spoken to. Be obedient without question. And wise enough to know her place – while being the perfect trophy her husband could boast about.

Stella took deep, silent breaths, controlling her thoughts from making her jump to conclusions.

She had to tread carefully with any man in this world. The people at the market were nice enough so far. Respectful of deals, and follows through with their word.

But, she's not blind to the staring – both the subtle, and the obvious.

Her face, unfortunately, is one of the attributes she inherited from their family's progenitor, their beloved ancestor, and it's been described as appealing at worse, and magnificent at best.

But she pays these no mind. Complements are empty words after all. Especially when they find out she can no longer produce children. That's alright. She has long accepted that any who show interest in her, will soon disregard it after they learn of her disability. Traditional men especially, will throw her away.

That's why – although she has her oath for Selene, and a promise for Gran-gran and Mei – she herself could never give an eternal vow to anyone. Not anymore.

Not after what she's done to herself.

But despite her cold aloofness day after day, night after night, this man remained persistent. Kept pestering to cater to her needs, when she made it perfectly clear the Ferrylady was doing a great job of taking care of her already. That he should focus on more important clientele than her.

Unfortunately, it's the sixth day now of Gran-gran's funeral, and she's still being served personally by the stubborn consultant with the alluring voice, who wouldn't stop inquiring if she was able to get a good night's sleep after clearly seeing she isn't. She knows the bags under her eyes are getting darker, and the whites of her eyes turning red with dryness.

It's times like this she misses those blissful sleep of white nothingness – the long morning nap, and the night she and Mei had to camp out before arriving at the harbor. The only explanation for them was the presence of that little guardian that wrapped around her snuggly like a giant tree in its branches – one made out of scales, and gems, and warmth.

Ah. But it isn't a tree, is it? It was a dragon – or so Mei said. A legendary creature that is normally large and serpentine in form and built – either something that brings about disorder and chaos, or something that protects with might and force.

“Good thing Mr. Guardian is the protector type!” Mei had added brightly, even though Stella knew the little girl was extremely disheartened to see it disappear in the distance after escorting them to the edge of Liyue Harbor, fluffy tail flickering in a silent wave.

She will admit to miss its strange, yet comforting presence. The soothing calm she can feel as she stares at its amber eyes – whether out of vexation or gratitude. It would wrap around her like a thick blanket, enveloping her in a warmth she could feel in her bones, and in her heart.

Ah, well. Maybe she'll look to tame one of the strays around the area. See which ones are easy to domesticate. Maybe, one of them would have eyes as gold as Mr. Guardian. Maybe then she'll be able to cuddle up to something and get some much needed sleep.

-{-}-

As the lady continued to fantasize of respite, a lost look entering her eyes, Morax thought now is the right time for a change. Where diplomacy fails, action may succeed.

When her hand moved to subtly rest at her waist, trying to reach her back, and a pained look briefly passed over her expression, he acted – for the first time – without a second thought.

“You have not slept well after I left, have you?”

Morax murmured low, well aware of their audience in the background, but reached out to her nonetheless, touching the tip of her nose, hoping his action would trigger a memory, their memory, together.

He patiently waited for her indignant squeals and sputters to subside, staring steadily at her face until her angry gaze focused back on his.

She turned silent immediately, a great confusion painted her features. Her hand hovered close to his face – no doubt to slap him for his boldness.

The quiet this time was not uncomfortable – it felt very nostalgic, like the thrum of water drops on stone, or the hum of rocks being mined from the earth.

The kind of silence that defined their first meeting, letting her tug him free from her pack, and staring at him with open bewilderment – with awe-filled curiosity set deep in her exquisite eyes.

“...Mr. Guardian?” she uttered, like a secret, both hopeful and afraid. She withdrew her hand to cover her mouth, while her body sagged heavily on her chair.

Sitting still was never a problem, but the want to comfort made his hand ache. He could only smile for now, to acknowledge the charming moniker, and to prevent from startling her further.

Blinking once, she took in his face. Blinking twice, she fisted her hand.

She suddenly covered her eyes, rubbing them incessantly, as if his image burned her physically and she's trying to find relief. He gave in and reached out, holding them still – something he could not do before lest he hurt her with his claws.

When she focused back on him, eyes turning anxious, Morax slowly lifted a third infused cup, carefully wrapped her fingers around it, before slowly letting go. He rested his arms at his sides and turned entirely to her – hoping his body language was open enough for her to let down her guard, just as she always was while he was Exuvia. He noticed her sitting up straight against her chair, eyes asking questions upon questions mutely in the air.

A dull thud from behind them went unnoticed.

“Please. Have a drink. Let it soothe your nerves.

The sea breeze outside will do much good for your head. Let me escort you to where the water meets the wall. And there, we might be afforded better privacy for your questions,” Morax softly besieged. He cut his gaze to the screen behind them, letting his focus rest on it for some time. Nearly silent sets of feet scurried away after a moment.

“Okay,” the lady consented, breaking through his concentration. When Morax gazed back, she took a long, slow sip, seeming to finally savor the tea he served, making him sit a little straighter in his seat. Her eyes softened slowly, and watered as recognition set in, which in turn made him tug at the corner of his lips in relief.

-{-}-

A knock was heard, before the slide of the door reached Meng's ears. “Yahooo. How is she? Have you revived Ferrylady yet?”

“Uhm, I'm afraid not, ma'am. Maybe this is a good thing? It's better if she has her rest for the night,” Meng whispered back, blowing the lantern light out as his co-worker rested heavily on her bed.

The director and undertaker silently went out, walking away from the sleeping quarters as both thought back on the circumstances of the Ferrylady's fainting. “Yeah. Might as well~ Zhongli-xiānsheng certainly put her in quite a shock. I almost saw her spirit escape from her! Too bad it happened before we got to see what our consultant did to make our guest putty in his hands. Looks like that hermit strikes again! At least this time the lady seems like his age – physically I mean – and totally not like his stuffy personality. I like her~” Hu Tao sang, thinking of giving the lady a small discount on the incense she'll need to use tomorrow.

“W-would it really be alright to leave them alone?” Meng asked, nervously pulling at his gloves.

“Hmm? Any concerns I should know about? Oh! Is she one of those pretending to play 'hard to get', but actually wants to snatch Zhongli-xiānsheng for herself~?” Hu Tao asked, fluttering her eyes exaggeratedly.

“No, Hu-zhǔrèn! You got it entirely wrong.”

“Oh?”

Meng furrowed his brow, organizing his thoughts. “From what I heard, as well as my own experience in assisting her, she tends to avoid men. All men. Except maybe the kids and the grandpas. I saw her hand quake once when I accidentally brushed hands with her trying to move her potted plants for her.”

“I didn't think you had it in you. You sly dog~”

“No no no, Hu-zhǔrèn! You misunderstand again!” Meng waved his arms frantically in front on him. “I mean... yes! I'll admit she's very beautiful. A-and she seems considerate, and kind. But she's a little, uhh, too beautiful? Even I know I'm not a good match for her. But her skittish behavior makes me feel like, like scum – like the lowest of the low,” he said dejectedly, shoulders falling. “She makes me feel guilty for even breathing in her space.”

Hu Tao hummed, a finger on her lips, before her brows quirked up in surprise at Meng’s suddenly spirited stance. “A few of the guys at the wharf noticed too, and speculated something must have happened to her. It's really sad to think of the possibilities. But we all talked about it, and agreed to do our best to be gentle in our interactions with her. No touch. Keep a good distance. And watch our words. We don’t want her to feel like we’re boars on the prowl.”

“Wow. Well done, Meng,” whistled Hu Tao, smiling wide.

“E-erm. Thank you?” Meng scratched at his head, face turning red in embarrassment.

“That's the longest I've heard you speak. Ever! I'm so proud of you~ You're not such a pitiful scaredy cat aftercall,” Hu Tao hooted in glee.

“W-what? M-madam...” Meng groaned, head falling down on his chest in dismay.

Hu Tao giggled softly, and changed her carefree stance. She gently patted him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Just kidding~ You really have to lighten up.

But, I didn't lie. What you're doing is very honorable. And even if you're too common for someone like her, I'm sure in time she'll notice and appreciate what you all are doing.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Ugh. I still don't understand the director. I have so much to learn.

“Besiiides. If you guys are honorable already as ordinary citizens, what more someone of Zhongli-xiānsheng's caliber?”

Meng nodded, smiling brightly. “You're absolutely right, ma'am. I should not have doubted his intentions.”

“Maybe by now, he's escorting her home. So let's have faith in our reliable consultant!”

“Yes, ma'am!”

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[←Previous] | Chapter 6 | [ Next → ]

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A/N: Just to clarify, Hu Tao meant Zhongli is such a devastating lady-killer. He just doesn’t know it. And yes, more eye-flirting with these two. Sighs. He has such pretty eyes. Updated again on 04/15/2021 because I’m my own biggest critic.

Gong fu style of serving tea is so mesmerizing to watch. I can see Zhongli do it every time.

Fun fact: In ancient China, yellow tea was indeed considered very rare. And since yellow is the traditional imperial color, only emperors are able to enjoy it. Unless they deem a guest fit to be served the tea - which is considered a high honor.

Zhongli’s rerun banner is coming up sooner than I thought. I should have known Genshin would have a mid-anniversary thing too. Or something like it. I panicked, caved in, and bought the Blessing of the Welkin. His mats are not readyyyy aiyaah

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Follower Tag: @meladollsims

#to be seen #zhongli #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #shapeshifting archon #ferrylady #hu tao #meng #Wangsheng's side business is matchmaking

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resonatingfern · 4 years

Text

30 questions: GW2 Edition

This can be done in many different ways: get asks by your followers, pick some questions for yourself, answer the whole damn thing at once, etc!

You can draw, write (to explain in details or not) or just post screenshots! If you miss one it’s totally okay, whether it’s by lack of answer or time. Have fun!

I was tagged by @whiskeyworen

1: Favorite living world season? Lws3 for sure. I love those maps so, so much. They’re all so interesting and pretty. 2: Favorite expansion? Heart of Thorns. Again, the maps are gorgeous. I really enjoyed the story, too. 3: Favorite soundtrack? Auric Wilds, from the HoT soundtrack. It’s so beautiful and haunting and really makes you feel like you’re in a deep jungle. AH I just love it so much 4: First profession you played? Revenant 5: First race you played? Sylvari 6: Favorite Destiny's Edge character? Logan, from the books. Probably Rytlock in game though. 7: Favorite Dragon's Watch character? Canach! 8: Favorite Elder Dragon? Zhaitan. I just… love undead things. And gross poisonous stuff. 9: Best boss fight (story)? Okay the Mordremoth story boss is like, pretty awful but I LOVE the song that plays when you fight him so that one. 10: Best boss fight (fractal)? The big eye dude from Solid Ocean. That fight is so much fun. 11: Best boss fight (raid)? Slothasor! I just get so happy when we do that boss. Even if its super stressful I never actually get upset during that fight. It’s just so fun. 12: PvE or PvP or RP? PvE 13: Favorite canon couple? That norn in Auric Basic whose partner got eaten by some wild animals but he still thinks the animals are great. 14: Favorite fanon/self made couple? I have a soft spot for all my couples, clearly. I think right now I’m very into Vasche and Trahearne, though. 15: Favorite quote?

16: Most emotional cinematic? The one with Trahearne. You know. 17: Favorite VA? I mean obviously Yuri Lowenthal as Lord Faren 18: Post a fun screenshot! this is still one of my favorite screenshots

19: Post a landscape screenshot! From the best map, Tangled Depths!

21: Favorite mount skin (for every mount you have)? I really love the branded skins, and I just got the awakened beetle skin and I love it!

22: Favorite weapon? One day I will have Sharur, and that will be my favorite. Favorite that I have.. Probably the bloodstone hammer.

23: Favorite gear set? I really love the blooming mistshard heavy armor

24: Favorite title? Dauntless. I worked so hard for that title

25: Something you worked really hard to get? The Dauntless title! And Bifrost.

26: Favorite GW2 Youtuber / GW2 related video? I don’t think I’ve ever really watched any, besides ones to help with jumping puzzles

27: Most used miniature? Southsun Faren, Jungle Faren, and the desert fox!

28: Most used novelty? Slubling tonic, now that I have it. It’s beautiful.

29: Number of achievements points? 10,045

30: Something you’d love to see in GW2? Lances as a weapon. Please let me slam down into someone with a lance. Please. And do cool spinning crit animations with it like in fire emblem.

I’ll tag @cousinslavellan and @miragecounseling, if you’d like to do this!

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soracities · 4 years

Note

I love everything you post so much! It's amazing. I was wondering if you had some quotes about gold, or in which gold is used as a metaphor.

“The golden girlwent bathing in the water,and the water turned gold.” (Lorca, ‘Qasida of the Golden Girl’)

“I see why in ancient times statues of the Buddha were gilt with gold and why gold leaf covered the walls of the homes of the nobility. Modern man, in his well-lit house, knows nothing of the beauty of gold; but those who lived in the dark houses of the past were not merely captivated by its beauty, they also knew its practical value; for gold, in these dim rooms, must have served the function of a reflector. Their use of gold leaf and gold dust was not mere extravagance. Its reflective properties were put to use as a source of illumination.” (Junichirō Tanizaki, In Praise of Shadows)

“… far more sweetsounding than alyre golder than gold …” (Sappho, If Not, Winter)

(Robert Frost, ‘Nothing Gold Can Stay’)

“But you know how I am. I push too hard. I get ahead of myself.I keep ruining everything I touch by turning it into gold.” (Richard Siken,‘The Long and Short of It’)

“the gold feeling.that lives off the coast of yourbody.that is solid.and seething with light.” (nayyirah waheed, ‘the auric coast’)

“I am the pool of goldWhen sunset burns and dies, —You are my deepening skies,Give me your stars to hold.” (Sara Teasdale, ‘Peace’)

(S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders)

“The light is astounding, a hammer. Horizon no closer, ever. Hills againchange color: gold and dark gold and darker gold. Whole fields are nothing but slabs of this gold soil, smashed up in chunks for cultivation, as if the massive altar at Castrogeriz had toppled straight across León.[…]Meseta colder than expected. Distances crushing. Horizon beats on the eyes. Everything is gold. I cannot describe the gold. I have shown you thephotographs (or have I?) but they don’t come near it.” (Anne Carson, excerpts from ‘An Essay on the Road to Compostela’ in Plainwater)

“I’m here and your eyes lucky. I’m here and your future lucky. Ha. God told me to tell you I’m pretty. Ha. My skin Midas-touch the buildings I walk by. Ha. Every day I’m alive the weather report say: Gold.” (Angel Nafis, ‘Gravity’)

(Dean Young, ‘Dear Friend’)

“And I say: wash the tarnished copper of your life from your hands;To be Love’s alchemist, you should be working with gold.” (Hafez, ‘School of Truth’)

“Wild honey smells of freedomThe dust - of sunlightThe mouth of a young girl, like a violetBut gold - smells of nothing.” (Anna Akhmatova, Untitled poem from Miscellaneous Poems 1943-1946)

“I am the dust in the sunlight, I am the ball of the sun. I am the mist of morning, the breath of evening. I am the spark in the stone, the gleam of gold in the metal, the rose and the nightingale drunk with its fragrance…” (Rumi)

(Anne Carson, excerpts from ‘An Essay on the Road to Compostela’ in Plainwater)

“Though I am old with wanderingThrough hollow lands and hilly lands,I will find out where she has gone,And kiss her lips and take her hands;And walk among long dappled grass,And pluck till time and times are done,The silver apples of the moon,The golden apples of the sun.” (W.B. Yeats, ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’)

“You can’t see yourself all over. But I can. Part of you is honey, part of you is copper, some of you is gold…” (James Baldwin, Another Country)

(Carol Ann Duffy, ‘Hour’)

#ask #anonymous #quotes about x

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icecreambeach · 4 years

Note

a prompt I hope you saw coming: McCree, sunning his butthole

I did my best to live up to this real-life comedy gold.

So this takes place very early on in the gang’s reunion, when they’re still training as a team and Hanzo/Genji are still a little tense with each other. (Hopefully I kind of conveyed that through context clues alone but just wanted to be sure since I didn’t want to spend a lot of time polishing this because I have lol zero time.)

I hope it TAINT bad. : - D

The simulation is set: nine opponents, fourteen hazards and two environments. McCree figures the first will be blizzard—why else would Mei be up in the box, waving down at them with that innocent smile?—but he has no clue on the second.Probably it has something to do with Genji, since he’s over half an hour late.

“It’s not like him,” mutters Angela, a little too opaque to show any judgment.Hanzo’s judgment, however, is very clear; he snorts loud enough for even Winston to look over, and he’s all the way up in the box with Mei.“I’m sure he’s just puttin’ the finishing touches on things,” Jesse drawls, nudging his boot into the concrete to scratch an itch on his heel.

“My brother is not one for keeping to a schedule,” says Hanzo. The effort to keep any bitterness out of his tone must’ve been monumental.

Jesse’s a quickdraw with more than a gun, so he’s a little miffed when Reinhardt gets to be magnanimous before he can: “I have seen people change in greater ways and in far less time than in our Genji.” He clasps a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder and Jesse feels even more miffed when the archer doesn’t bristle and brush Reinhardt away like his usual character would dictate. “Perhaps he will surprise you.”

Hanzo seems to hum and cough at the same time. Reinhardt takes his hand back and Jesse licks his teeth behind his lips. “Dunno ‘bout that, Rein. Dickin’ off to meditate is still dickin’ off.”But both Reinhardt and Hanzo give him looks of disappointment and displeasure, respectively. Jesse coos out air like the room is getting hot, looking up at nothing, then turns instead to Angela, who is masterfully ignoring the entire situation.

“You get those new bio-shots in yet, doc?”“Not yet. But the shipment should come any day now. It’s not unusual for that kind of order to take so long. I once tried to have two gallons of e-CTM delivered to a safe house in Bucharest and the driver—”“Oh thank Christ,” Jesse mutters when Genji jogs into the room.“Forgive my lateness,” says Genji. “Torbjorn had not yet finished our suits.”The whole team squints at him. “Suits?” says Reinhardt.

Genji sets down twin crates and hits a button on their sides to let them snap open. “Winston wanted me to set the environment today, so I decided on fire.”Hanzo scoffs even louder than before. Jesse gets the feeling there’s some joke he’s not in on.Reinhardt, ever doe-eyed, persists: “fire?”“Yes. But these suits are not fire-repellant. They are fire-attractive.”Angela actually sounds intrigued, if a tad apprehensive: “come again?”“They will attract fire.” Genji takes out a suit and holds it up; it looks like a Tour de France onesie, only with far shorter shorts. Jesse thinks he’d be shocked if they even cleared his inner thighs. “Particularly to the torso and head.”“Gotta be shittin’ me,” mutters Jesse, turning away, spurs clicking.“Ridiculous,” rumbles Hanzo.“I do not see why I deserve such dissent,” Genji says, his robotic voice a lofty, melodic drawl. “I have designed this course to mimic the eventuality of a burning building. Something most of you would have difficulty overcoming,” he adds with a carefree lilt and tilt of his head. He leans towards the room com link on the wall and holds down the button, carrying his voice to the box above as well as the entire room. “Winston, Mei—you’ll find the simulation code under command 12-A.”

“If you are selecting an environment in which you are already an expert,” Hanzo drawls back, his own voice the total opposite of carefree, “then what is the point of your participating?”“It will still be a challenge for me. I have not been in the position of having to assist other teammates during a battle for a long time.”“Yes,” Hanzo crosses his arms, and Jesse pre-winces before the man even finishes, “Your position is more often far behind enemy lines, getting yourself injured and then calling for help.”Genji crosses his arms, too, though he keeps his tone light. “Now, brother. That was long ago.”“So that has never happened, then?” Hanzo quickly fixes his intense gaze on Angela, who hesitates just one second too long; Hanzo looks back at Genji with the most superior smirk Jesse has ever seen.Genji rolls back one shoulder, seemingly unperturbed. It’s hard to tell with the mask. “Overwatch is based on teamwork. We have all been in the position of requiring help from time to time. That is the reality of working with others—something that you, perhaps, could benefit to learn.”“I have worked in groups many times, as you are well aware.”“And the general of a group, what is their position, often?”“I do not have to explain myself to you.”“No, you just need to adhere to the new order of things.”“You should adhere to—”“I can’t wear that!”Everyone turns to look at Jesse.

The gunslinger clears his throat—he hadn’t really meant to shout—and squares his hips towards Genji. “I can’t put that on.”Genji lowers his arms and puts one hand on his hip, obviously sensing another mutineer. “And why not?”“There’s no way those things ain’t gonna ride up my groin like they’re goin’ for a chokehold. You ever see those boxer-briefs where the legs are just a tad too short on a guy with big thighs? Turn into tighty-whities before you can—”“Oh, please,” says Angela, barely suppressing an amused, if a little grossed-out grin. “I’ve seen you wear far more uncomfortable things for a mission, Jesse. It will only be for a couple hours.”“Certainly!” Reinhardt half-lifts his axe, “Remember those wet-suits in the North Sea? I could hardly breathe! And we were in those all day. Also, my thighs are far—”“Well I wasn’t dealin’ with localized bodily damage at the time, Rein.”“Damage?” Angela looks him up and down. “Are you hurt?”“Naw,” Jesse pulls the brim of his hat down, which he quickly realizes he should not have done, because most of them know him well enough to take that as a clear signal that he is hiding something. “I mean… not in any… it wouldn’t interfere.”

“It seems to be interfering now,” says Genji.“Jesse, if you are injured, you cannot just keep it to yourself. What if we had to ship out today?”“Tell us what it is, Jesse,” says Winston over the room com. “Better to take care of it now.”“It don’t need takin’ care of!” Jesse grumbles, his voice growing louder without his consent. “I just… I can’t be wearin’ shit like that.”Genji looks at the suit still in his hand, then slowly back at Jesse, who feels all the hairs on his arms stand up. “Is it a…” He gestures vaguely to his own pelvic area.“No! Jesus. I mean… not in the way you’re…”

Jesse’s throat closes up as he realizes the deep, deep hole he’s dug under his own feet. Everyone is staring at him with varying levels of suspicion, except for Hanzo, whose face looks more like… alarm? Apprehension?

Jesse sighs. Just get it over with.

He mumbles under his breath.“Sorry?” says Angela. Genji takes a step closer.“I sun-burned my perinmhihmm,” Jesse mutters a little louder, still barely legible.“Wait,” says Genji, who physically removes the com-link from the wall and holds it up to Jesse’s mouth, holding down the button so that his voice echoes like God’s judgment. “Can you just,” the cyborg almost trips over his barely-suppressed laughter, “Can you repeat that please Jesse?”Jesse stares him dead in his green-lit visor and, in his most confident drawl, announces to the entire room: “my pucker hole is crazy burned.”

The laughter hits them all differently: Genji’s head flies backwards with a sharp bark that dissolves into ludicrous snorting, Reinhardt brays one loud note that bounces off the walls again and again, Angela covers her mouth and laughs until Jesse sees her whole face turn red, and Hanzo, also hiding his mouth with his hand, lets his chuckles mostly just shake around inside his chest. He’s the only one who doesn’t look away from Jesse.

“Alright.” Jesse looks up towards the box where Mei is leaning over a console as if having a heart attack and Winston is trying to make sure she’s okay through his own chortling. “Alright, now. Ain’t that goddamn funny.”“Are you shitting me?” Genji, barely able to stay upright, shakes his open hand fingertips-first at Jesse, “How? How could that have possibly happened?”“It’s… it’s a type a’yoga! Shit. You never heard of it?” Jesse puts his hands on his hips, decides he might as well own it. “S’called ‘perineum sunning.’” While Genji collapses into laughter all over again, he goes on, “S’all about absorbing the sun into your body through your… your grundle.” Genji is almost on the floor now, repeating the word ‘grundle’ to himself like it’s a holy mantra. “I been having, y’know, trouble sleepin’ and the like… thought it’d boost my auric field with the power o’the sun and whatnot. Keep my life force from leaking out and all.”Now Genji is repeating ‘leaking’ to himself in a very high-pitched voice while Angela, bless her, manages enough self-control to speak. “Joking aside… Jesse, that does sound serious. Have you… done anything…?”“No! What am I supposed to do? Stick a biotic emitter up there and hope for the best?”“N-no,” says Angela, still fighting giggles but blessedly stepping in front of Reinhardt and Genji, who are both using Reinhardt’s hammer as a kind of crutch for their hysterics. “But some burn ointment may help. Do you have any aloe vera?”Jesse snorts. “Yeah… probably in my kit somewhere.”“You should apply some. Perhaps… perhaps you should sit out this session to do so. We can… ping Lucio to replace you.”“God, yes, please,” Genji wheezes, “Please let’s bring Lucio out here.”Fully aware that Lucio is not really an appropriate replacement for what he brings to the table, Jesse grumbles a thank-you and turns heel for the door. But right before he exits (since Genji and Reinhardt are still laughing), he sticks his head back in to add: “it’s an ancient fuckin’ Taoist practice!”

An hour later, someone knocks at Jesse’s door. He almost ignores it, but at the second knock—faster, snappier—he gets up to at least see who it is. If it’s Genji and Lucio come to taunt him, he can at least open the door with his gun in his hand.But it’s Hanzo, standing all regal with his hands resting inside his kimono jacket. Obviously still amused but doing a good job of trying to hide it. A much more welcome sight, despite everything.

Jesse taps the door command and leans on the frame with as much swagger as he can muster. “Well hey there. Sim went by kinda quick, huh?”“Yes,” says Hanzo, those perfectly-shaped lips toying with a smirk, “It was difficult to achieve adequate team cohesion after your… announcement.”“Well, ain’t my fault we’re workin’ with a couple’a gigglin’ frat boys,” Jesse sighs, stepping aside.

The door hisses shut behind Hanzo, who immediately walks to the console. “Athena, cease surveillance of this room. Command three dash eight hundred and four.”“Confirmed,” says Athena.“Still don’t know how you managed to swipe Winston’s command codes,” chuckles Jesse.“It was a crime of necessity.” Hanzo comes up close, presses against Jesse’s front. Chin tipped up to smirk at him. “I don’t want anyone seeing or hearing what I do to you.”Jesse opens his mouth to agree, but Hanzo seizes that opportunity to plant his own mouth there, tugging down on the gunslinger’s chin to line them up. Their arms wrap, their bodies slot, and Jesse lets out a low rumble of pleasure. Hanzo kisses him slower and warmer than he has yet and the effect is melting. Time goes still and Jesse swears he hears a bird singing.

“Wha,” Jesse clears his throat, when it’s over, looks down at Hanzo from heavy-lidded eyes. “What was that for?”“For lying for me,” Hanzo hums. “I will admit,” He playfully unbuttons Jesse’s flannel shirt, “That was the most unorthodox way of getting out of having to show a hickey I have ever heard of, but I commend your creativity.”“Huh?”Hanzo gently pats Jesse’s cheek, still smiling. “Stay with me, cowboy. I appreciate you keeping our time together a secret. I do not know how the others would have reacted if they saw what I did to your thighs.”“Oh.” Jesse takes a half-step back, still loosely holding Hanzo by the elbow with one hand while the other scratches at a side-burn. “Well… yeah, Han. I know you wanna keep things quiet for now.”“It is for both our benefit,” Hanzo mutters into Jesse’s jaw. “It is… I have never done this before. Nothing like this. I want to take things slowly.”“O’course. I mean, I… y’know I’ve had a shaky run of things, too. Though I’d yell it from the top of the rock this afternoon, if you gave the go-ahead.”Hanzo chuckles, that warm, resonant rumble that Jesse is already falling a little bit in love with. “Perhaps someday.”As he goes to kiss down Jesse’s throat, the gunslinger coughs a little. “Well, there’s… I mean, there’s that, but…”Hanzo’s smile fades as he blinks up at Jesse. A shadow of worry crosses his face and Jesse’s heart spasms in pain. “But what?”Jesse sighs again, only with ten times more despair than in the simulation room.“But I really did burn my pucker hole.”There’s a moment in which Hanzo just stares with gently widened eyes, as if he doesn’t understand. Then a bubble of disbelieving laughter makes his chest contract. “You…” More chuckles bubbles up and Jesse thinks it’d be damn endearing, the way this usually self-controlled man can’t hold back his laughter, if he didn’t feel a very real burn of embarrassment spreading across his own face. Not to mention the burn between his ass cheeks.“You what?” Hanzo asks, as if he is really trying to give Jesse the benefit of the doubt here.

“I went down on you for nigh on an hour yesterday on the top of a cliff with my bare ass pointed at a 3pm sun in the goddamn Mediterranean, Han! What did you think was gonna happen?” Jesse pauses, his eyes fly off somewhere up and to the left, then come back to Hanzo with his tone even higher-pitched: “and you don’t think I’d come up with a better lie than that if I had to!?”

“I didn’t… I am sorry, I did not…” Hanzo is practically choking, his hand slapped up over his mouth again.Jesse sighs. He looks at Hanzo, with his shaking shoulders and his bouncing bang-hair, and a rueful half-smile breaks through his irritation. “S’okay, darlin’. You can laugh. It’s funny.”Then Hanzo lets out a bark of laughter even louder and grander than Genji’s, his head tossing back in a very similar fashion. His hands tremble as they hold onto Jesse’s shirt flaps for dear life. The sight is almost enough to make Jesse forget about the horrible, horrible pain.It’s not long before the archer comes back down to earth. “I,” Hanzo starts, wiping away a tear, “I am deeply sorry for this… for your…”“Yeah, yeah.” Jesse adjusts the waistband of his loose sweatpants, which is about the only article of clothing his ass can stand now. “Never gonna live this one down, y’know that? Genji’s probably gonna bring it up at my goddamn funeral.”“I apologize,” Hanzo says, both hands still holding onto Jesse’s shirt. “Why did you not say something sooner?”“Couldn’t find the right words, I guess.”“‘My pucker hole is crazy burned’ now seem like the only right words.”Jesse scoffs and rolls his eyes and cackles into his hand, then winces as the movement makes his thighs shift too much. Suddenly he turns boyish: “it really hurts, sweetheart.”Then Hanzo draws forward with a sound like a low, rough coo, and smoothes out Jesse’s shirt. “If you are truly in need,” his eyes sweep up to Jesse’s and Jesse can’t express how much that adds to his downstairs discomfort, “I can assist you with that aloe vera.”“Really, Han, you ain’t gotta—”“I insist. It is the least I can do after your…” Hanzo gets closer, smirks with those cat-like eyes dangerously narrowed, “…Skilled favors.”Jesse feels a very different kind of burning and chuckles, looking off to the side. “Aww, Han. I don’t think that’ll be as enjoyable as you’re makin’ it sound…”“I will make it enjoyable.” He lowers his hand and palms over Jesse’s cock to prove his point. Licks Jesse’s bottom lip into his mouth and lets it slide out between his teeth.Well, shit. “Alright,” Jesse sighs, “You insisted and all.”

“Mmm,” Hanzo purrs, still rubbing Jesse through his sweats. “And do not worry about Genji. I know many stories of his that more than overshadow yours.”“As nice as that is, darlin’, I really don’t wanna talk about your brother right now.”“Then stop talking and get on the bed.”

#prompt #mchanzo #asks #robocryptid #my pucker hole is crazy burned #robo-cryptid

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deargguks · 5 years

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𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝐚𝐮. not really specified.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. han jisung / reader (gender neutral.)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 1.1k words.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. this is honestly the most confusing thing ever,,, i literally hammered it out bc i got tired of watching kubzscouts & had some pent up anger from summer prep courses SDFJS

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 (?) | 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝.

When the minute hand is exactly twenty-two and three ticks past twelve and you’re spinning from your jaded fingers yet another application, three taps–knock, knock, knock–make themselves sonorous against the old mahogany of your door. They are faint, very much so; perhaps you would not have even heard them if not for a sudden quiet which plagues your dorm. Impregnable, its one you’ve come to both relish in and despise, for what it spares is a moment of silence; not your wallet nor time. The ac–the rambunctious one which has a tendency to cry steel whilst it worked against the sticky summer–has finally hit its limits and breaks, again. Just in time, too, to leak intrusion into your ear buds.

You glance right and upwards where hangs a clock with thick scarlet running through the crevices of its wood and press, sternly, pearly whites into your lip. 12:25 am sharp; the second hand ticks perfectly into the inked groove of twelve just as your full moon eyes make landing. Who the hell is knocking at your door?

For a moment, you wish, with your entire being, that it is Him because, god help your damned heart, but without the tears and lies, he doesn’t taste quite as sinful as one might suggest. (It’s a truth which you’ve come to return to far too often in the silence of your thoughts; one with memories dripping down your tongue in blue. and another one–the fact that your life has literally been going on a spiral down, down, down ever since he lost his love and you didn’t. Or perhaps your luck just decided to take a turn for the worse, but it helps ease the frustration if you blame it on someone else. People are like that.) And then you don’t–because he’s really all of those things with an extra taste of heartbreak smeared onto vibrant cheeks.

So, who you wish to be at the door instead is preferably death, who’ll strike you down in one blow and banish your vexations with the waking stars. Anything–any fate, any experience–is better than another job application; another nagging complaint from your mother: decorated in vowels of shame, her words are almost a memory. look at your friends. they’re all well off and maintaining a stable job. what of you? your studies aren’t even sustainable.

And lest demise now comes in the shape of a boy with hair belonging to the auriferous stars and roses blooming on both porcelain cheeks, no wish was granted in your favor.

It takes one glance–one flick of full moon eyes–to glimpse his entire tenor; flesh out his heart and blood for you to read. He’s no older and no younger, a dash of honey in meteor shower irises that reflect golden upon the snowy night. On his cheek bone, rests a vague outline, just barely, of his home. A star, violet in hue; akin of wishes and dreams that rest on the tip of your tongue. How peculiar.

The star boy seems to be in a rush. Against time, he is huffing and puffing and red in the cheeks as he turns to reach inside his messenger bag–a homely brown–and rummages to find a scroll of delicate paper. His fingers shift tenderly against the aged parchment, gliding over the occasional tear and rip, and you catch a glimpse, during his fumble, of swirling ink and ebony belonging to a language so ancient, your eyes fail to even perceive it. “Ahem.. hi, I’m Jisung, and I’m here for a delivery for (Last Name) (Name)?”

He peeks at you from behind the paper, starry eyes–a night canvas with a thousand and one wishes sailing past like little boats of gold–reaching to meet yours. And from under those honey fringes, you read a prayer of felicity sunken so deep into his blood; his skin, his sole purpose is written on its very fingers.

“I didn’t order anything.” Star boy–ah.. Jisung–is stuffing the scroll back into his bag as you announce this, and when he turns back, pearly whites are just barely digging into his lip; a particularly bright ship passes in his eyes. It makes you feel strangely warm how he reminds you of honey and dreams, of something you’ve long lost somewhere in the stumbles of your youth and now ache oh-so desperately for. And.. he reminds you of Him before the pain and the heartbreak.

He smiles brighter, and your expired heart is pumping once again of hope and–dare you say it–feeling. “Of course you didn’t! No one orders from the stars anymore,” You should be caught off-guard by this, you truly should. What sane person wouldn’t? Some random guy who shows up at your door step in the middle of the night with a claim to have a delivery from “the stars” definitely isn’t normal. But it’s not like you haven’t already suspected something peculiar of him. Nobody should belong this much to the constellations. There is moondust in his lungs and galaxies in his blood; he isn’t of this world. “But we deliver anyways to the ones who need it.”

Then–oh god–then, he does something so, so peculiar, that you do not object and simply watches as he lifts his fingers and kisses cosmos onto the slender tips. there is life dancing upon his hand. A fervored will so strong, your heart is an ardent muse to it and sings along. Dreams of auric dust swirls at his beck and call and soon, there is a tinge of violet, of azure, of argent twirling between its arms.

He presses it to your chest, touch surprisingly cool against your overflowing heart. Yet, paradoxically, there is fire at the tips, seeping past your clothes, past your flesh, and into the veins pumping forgotten wanderlust from under ashen dreams. It’s so warm: so much warmer than you’ve ever felt before, and consumes you. However, you do not struggle. It’s comforting, almost. The flames are raging, gnawing at the decays of a sunken hope, a desolate dream, and breathing life into another–one far stronger than the previous; and it’s burning Him. Drinking his voice, his touch, his words still stuck in the fissures of your heart away, and suddenly, you’re happy. You’re bursting with ardor, a star reborn gloriously once more into its sky. There’s stardust beneath your flesh and in your blood; you belong to the universe.. (and so does Jisung.)

(When your eyes flutter open, a galaxy inside full moon hues, the boy of stars is gone from your doorstep. Perhaps, if your heart was not screaming with life, you would’ve dubbed him but a figment of your imagination. Nothing but silly dreams and make-believe. It’s so simple to do, after all, for what remains is only a kiss of the winter night and a warmth inside your chest. He has breathed the cosmos into your soul–a wish from the stars [him]–and will never ever tell.)

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borderlore · 5 years

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Customization Skins Drop Guide: Aurelia the Baroness

Continued in Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel! was the ability to customize the player’s character with a variety of Skins and Heads. With numerous Heads and Skins to choose from, it should be an obvious answer that not all of these are immediately obtainable by the player. A large majority of both are found by looting, killing, and completing Challenges. From having to fight Raid Bosses to turning in Missions, this guide is meant to inform the player on who to kill, where to loot, and which Challenges to complete in order to further customize their favorite Vault Hunters to their liking.

Rouge Rider

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Space Dead

Rank: 3

For Dinner Parties

Drop Source: Corporal Bob

Enemy Location: Hyperion Hub of Heroism

Sang Froid

Drop Source: RedBelly

Enemy Location: Crisis Scar

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “A New Direction”

The Mission “A New Direction” must be turned in to farm RedBelly.

For Charity Galas

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Marshal Martial

Rank: 3

For Throwing Rocks at Peasants

Drop Source: Powersuit Noob

Enemy Location: Lunar Launching Station

Mission Location: Lunar Launching Station

Mission: “Red, Then Dead”

The Mission “Red, Then Dead” must be turned in to farm Powersuit Noob.

Greed is Lovely

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Grinders”

The Root of All Awesome

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Barrel of Laughs

Rank: 3

Bloody Money

Drop Source: Tiny Destroyer

Enemy Location: Research and Development

Mission Location: Research and Development

Mission: “Lab 19″

The Mission “Lab 19″ must be turned in to farm the Tiny Destroyer.

Cash is Adorable

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Nova Say Die

Rank: 3

Mistress Money

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: A Chunk of Purest Green

Rank: 3

Blueblood

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Up Unt At Zem

Rank: 5

Bold and Blutiful

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Abandoned Training Facility

Mission: “DAHL Combat Training: Round 4″

The Shock Drop Slaughter Pit is required to access the Abandoned Training Facility.

Styles from the East

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Battle Star

Rank: 5

Ironic Blue Collar

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Research and Development

Mission: “Fresh Air”

Quaint Color

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Drive For Miles

Rank: 3

She Has Arrived

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Outlands Canyon

Mission: “Boomshakalaka”

The Golden Girl

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Master Chef

Mission: 3

Auric Ninja

Drop Source: Boomer

Enemy Location: Outlands Spur

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Nothing Is Never an Option”

The Mission “Nothing Is Never an Option” must be turned in to farm Boomer.

You Sicken Me

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Splat’n’Slide

Rank: 3

For Funerals

Drop Source: X-STLK-23

Enemy Location: Research and Development

Mission Location: Research and Development

Mission: “Science and Violence”

The Mission “Science and Violence” must be turned in to farm X-STLK-23.

This Looks Expensive

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Crash & Burn

Rank: 3

Legendary Lady

Drop Source: Not Cute Badass Tork

Enemy Location: Stanton’s Liver

Mission Location: Triton Flats

Mission: “All the Little Creatures”

The Mission “All the Little Creatures” must be turned in to farm the Not Cute Badass Tork.

Weapon of the Aristocracy

Drop Source: Iwajira

Enemy Location: Serenity’s Waste

Absolutely Nauseating

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Slayer of Titans

Rank: 3

This One is a Bit Gauche

Drop Source: Rooster Booster

Enemy Location: Stanton’s Liver

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Grinders”

The Mission “Grinders” must be turned in to farm Rooster Booster.

Bargain Bin Skin

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Home Nade Cookin’

Rank: 5

Cyan is for Peasants

Drop Source: Badass Tork

Enemy Locations: Stanton’s Liver, Outlands Canyon, Sub-Level 13, Titan Industrial Facility, & Research and Development

The Color of Poverty

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: There Can Be Only… Me

Rank: 5

Pale as a Pauper

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Over The Moon

Rank: 3

I Despise This Color

Drop Source: Giant Shuggurath of Ice

Enemy Location: Triton Flats

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Bunch of Ice Holes”

The Mission “Bunch of Ice Holes” must be turned in to farm the Giant Shuggurath of Ice.

Mauve Mistress

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Big MIRV

Rank: 3

My Favourite Color

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Scrounging Around

Rank: 3

I am Basically Royalty

Drop Source: Deadlift

Enemy Location: Regolith Range

Mission Location: Serenity’s Waste

Mission: “Marooned”

The Mission “Marooned” must be turned in to farm Deadlift.

Evening Wear

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Regolith Range

Mission: “Last Requests”

Noire Couture

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Veins of Helios

Mission: “Trouble with Space Hurps”

Welcome to Bright Veil

Drop Source: The Bosun

Enemy Location: Pity’s Fall

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Intelligences of the Artificial Persuasion”

The Mission “Intelligences of the Artificial Persuasion” must be turned in to farm The Bosun.

How I Long to Kill One

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: The Happiest Colour

Rank: 5

Rose Clair

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: More Where That Came From

Rank: 3

The Hottest New Look

Drop Source: Colonel Zarpedon & The Empyrean Sentinel

Enemy Locations: Eye of Helios & Eleseer

Mission Locations: Lunar Launching Station

Mission: “Eye to Eye” & “The Beginning of the End”

Colonel Zarpedon will not respawn after killing her.

The Mission “The Beginning of the End” must be turned in to farm The Empyrean Sentinel.

Fashion From Overseas

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Home Nade Cookin’

Rank: 3

Scav Rustbukkit

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Scav Oxidyze

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Boomstick Boogie

Rank: 3

Scav Skorch

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Projectile Proliferation

Rank: 5

Dahl Fatigues

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Dahl NCO

Drop Source: Felicity Rampant

Enemy Location: Titan Robot Production Plant

Mission Location: Concordia

Mission: “Let’s Build a Robot Army”

The Mission “Let’s Build a Robot Army” must be turned in to farm Felicity Rampant.

Dahl Stencil

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Crouch Potato

Rank: 5

Hyperion Boldness

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Hyperion Courage

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Spray Job

Rank: 3

Hyperion Defender

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Penetrating Wound

Rank: 5

Jakobs Values

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Jakobs Ideals

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Trigger Happy

Rank: 3

Jakobs Quality

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Gunslinger

Rank: 5

Spirit by Maliwan

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Sophistication by Maliwan

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Pew Pew

Rank: 3

Solace by Maliwan

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Some Like it Hot

Rank: 5

Tediore Economical

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Tediore After Market

Drop Source: Slot Machines

Slot Combination: 777

Tediore Top Shelf

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Throw Me the Money

Rank: 5

Torgue Nitrous

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Torgue Blast Point

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Assault With a Deadly Weapon

Rank: 3

Torgue Shock Front

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Missile Magnet

Rank: 5

Vladof Worker

Drop Source: Item of the Day/Vending Machines

Vladof Hammer

Drop Source: Challenge Reward & Slot Machines

Challenge: Sharp Shooter

Rank: 3

Slot Combination: 777

Vladof Comradeship

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Ammo Eater

Rank: 5

Snick-It Whites

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Vorago Solitude

Mission: “The Don”

DLC Skins:

Eridian Bought

Drop Source: Mission Reward & Guardian Pondors

Mission Location: The Holodome

Enemy Location: The Holodome

Mission: “Digistructed Madness: Round 1″

The Holodome is only available in The Holodome Onslaught.

Mourning Hue

Drop Source: Teh Earworm

Enemy Location: Cluster 99002 0V3RL00K

Mission Location: The Nexus

Mission: “You Can Stop the Music”

The Mission “You Can Stop the Music” must be turned in to farm Teh Earworm.

The Nexus is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

Fit for a Queen

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: Claptomaniac

Rank: 3

The Challenge Claptomaniac is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

Ice Hunting

Drop Source: Challenge Reward

Challenge: 99 Problems and a Glitch Ain’t One

Rank: 5

The Challenge 99 Problems and a Glitch Ain’t One is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

Sunday Afternoon

Drop Source: The Sponx

Enemy Location: Subconscious

Mission Location: Subconscious

Mission: “The Temple of Boom”

The Mission “The Temple of Boom” must be turned in to farm The Sponx.

The Subconscious is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

Traditional Tartan

Drop Source: Mission Reward

Mission Location: Motherlessboard

Mission: “Corrosion of Dignity”

The Motherlessboard is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

Playfully Gaudy

Drop Source: LootBug.awesome

Enemy Locations: Motherlessboard, Cluster 00773 P4ND0R4, Cluster 99002 0V3RL00K, & Subconscious

The LootBug.awesome is only available in Claptastic Voyage.

#Borderlands #Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel!#Customization #Aurelia the Baroness #Drop Guide

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