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adaginy · 2 months

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The Big Guide to Humans: Home Planet

Humans come from a small, rocky planet, called Terra or Earth or some other translation of "dirt," where they lived on the land surface despite the planet being mostly covered (area and volume) by water. They do, however, measure temperature in a scale based approximately on the freezing and boiling points of water (at their average atmospheric pressure), set to 0 and 100. As with "years" (see lifespan and development), your local human can probably tell you the conversion to local measurements, if the knowledge is not in your local storage and the numbers are not being converted automatically by your translation dock. The planet's rotational axis is tilted relative to its orbital plane, resulting in "seasons," a predictable progression of local temperatures between local lows to local highs and back over the course of an orbit, despite its nearly round trajectory. This is in addition to the smaller temperature changes of the day/night cycle. Terran weather temperatures range from -90, below the freezing point of radon, to 60, nearly the boiling point of bromine, though humans mostly live where the weather over the course of a year ranges between -20 to 45.

Humans infamously breathe oxygen, but Terra's atmosphere is actually mostly nitrogen. The 23% oxygen concentration is enough for fires to sustain easily, assuming fuel and initial ignition, but low enough that fires smother nearly immediately when fully covered. Terra's rotation and heat from Sol combine to cause a predictable pattern of convection known as prevailing winds. Winds are often strong enough to move light objects without causing damage, not uncommonly strong enough to make it difficult for humans to move against it, or stronger, and sometimes strong enough to cause damage to buildings. This is in addition to regional threats of "extreme" winds, most notably tornadoes (fast-moving, localized funnels of winds strong enough rip buildings apart and fling heavy objects) and cyclones (weaker than a tornado, but traveling slowly and raining so copiously that shelters are also damaged by water).

Having such copious rain that buildings are damaged can happen outside of a cyclone, as well. While humans can swim surprisingly well for a non-liquid-dwelling species, this water has usually picked up so many contaminants that it is capable of overwhelming a human's immune system if it enters their body via their mouth or damaged skin.

Alternately, little or no water may fall on an area that does not usually experience water scarcity. The resulting "drought" kills plants and animals that cannot be moved. This is less predictable, but takes multiple years to come into effect. A vegetated area facing drought, however, is at particular risk for a wild fire, a fire that becomes too large and fast-moving to be smothered. Areas as big as residential ships can burned before the fire runs out of fuel or is able to be drenched.

Terra's planetary surface is made up of several pieces of "crust" floating on top of its liquid center. At the edges of these pieces, or at cracks in the pieces, huge pieces of crust can be forced upward or buckle under the pressure. Done slowly, so slowly no one notices, this produces mountains. Done quickly, it produces "earth quakes." Some earth quakes can only be sensed by sensors, but others cause buildings to shake apart. Humans know where these edges are and, instead of not building there, they design buildings that are able to resist being shaken. If the locus of the shaking is near or under the ocean, it can cause a fast-moving, towering wave called a "tsunami." An average tsunami is capable of obliterating buildings when it reaches shore, and then sucking any survivors into the ocean when it recedes (with strength far past even the best human swimmers). As with earth quakes, humans design buildings to survive being struck by this wall of water. The same edges and cracks also produce volcanoes, places where the earth's liquid center oozes or bursts out of the ground. This liquid will be at temperatures of 700 or more, above the melting temperature of radium and on past the the melting temperature of gold. It can cause fires when it touches things in addition to being so heavy and/or voluminous that it covers items in its path. Humans generally do not build very close to volcanoes that are frequently or explosively active. However, if a volcano is only likely to erupt once or twice within a human lifespan, or tends to ooze rather than burst, they will simply use several sensors to know when it will happen so they can get out of the way. Because they all originate in the same geological source, it is common to have two of these crack-based issues at once and not unusual to have all three.

Sometimes, rain falls in tiny frozen pieces, covering the ground in a layer of ice chips. Sometimes it falls in large rocks of ice, breaking and shattering what it strikes. Sometimes the temperature is anomalously hot or cold in places where the wildlife and human dwellings are not adapted to those temperatures. Sometimes massive sparks of electricity shoot from the sky to the ground. Sometimes the side of a mountain — or the ice chips piled on the side of the mountain — will fall off and slide down, burying and crushing everything in the way. Sometimes erosion under the surface will cause the surface to give way, leaving a hole in the ground big enough to swallow a person or a building. Sometimes the liquid inside Terra doesn't burst through the surface, but super-heats water until it does. While none of these features are unique to Terra, even among inhabited planets, it is uncommon for an inhabited planet to have so many of these features and it is nearly unique among humans to choose to live in afflicted areas. It can be helpful to understand, when one is wondering why humans and other life from their planet are "like that," that life only evolved on Terra once* and then experienced a burst of population up to and beyond local carrying capacities. Every species, including the plants, shares a common ancestor, and every creature that was ever born (hatched, sprouted, divided, etc) faced immediate competition from other, similar creatures. The ability to run faster, eat weirder, live hardier, spread farther provided an immediate benefit. Furthermore, in addition to the horrors described in this chapter of this guide, in Terra's planetary history there are multiple near-extinction-level events — new chemosynthetic species producing upheavals in the atmospheric gas balance, an asteroid strike, massive volcanic eruptions choking the air with ash and blocking energy from Sol — that further pressed evolution. Terra, truly, has earned its reputation as a death world — but less so for the life that has formed there.

*there is a long-standing idea that cephalopods may have originated separately, but this is really only taken seriously by the Chiparsen, who used to colonize via panspermia. While the Unified Government no longer accepts this as a valid territorial claim, the Chiparsen still hope to prove relation in order to put forth a diplomatic demand that Terrans remove cephalopods from their diet.

#Big Guide to Humans #addie writes #humans are space orcs #I am much more willing to believe in standardized length/area units than I am in standardized time/temperature units #I keep rechecking the radon thing #it doesn't sound true but apparently it is #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia

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tunastime · 24 days

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A Gear of the Heart, Starting

just a little something I wrote for somebody's (@shepscapades) birthday back in November :3 after I asked what etho and bdubs would've been like shortly after etho's deviation. this is the few times before last life where bdubs realizes etho might be a good friend, and how their relationship changes. comes right before A Gear of the Heart, Turning! (4653 words)

Etho remembers quite a bit.

He remembers the ricochet of the explosion through his left side. He remembers a dozen errors across his vision, showing every unit damaged by the blast, the fractals of fracturing snaking up his arm, the shattered remains of his central programming lingering like a livewire.

Over and over he can remember the pitch of Bdubs’ voice and had to wonder his own diagnosis at that moment. Bdubs watching his android die in his name—he remembers that, too. Bdubs didn’t even ask for that. It was something Etho gave to him. He’s not sure he could even say why, either.

It remained a bitter flavor he couldn't identify, even as Xisuma assured him he was okay. Something had happened then, sitting on that floor, thirium in hand. Some movement in his chest he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything physical, but it felt like some gear of his nonexistent heart had started, turned—rotated. And all he could do was ask himself why. What’s he supposed to do with that?

He doesn’t know. Fine.

Etho goes back to work at someone’s request. Not even his own request, either, so he has to wonder if maybe Doc put him up to it. Him being Bdubs. Him being Bdubs who shifted back and forth on his feet at Etho’s door—a facade of a base in the process of being designed. If one could even call it a base, yet.

And even though he was increasingly certain that Bdubs had been told to ask—and Etho asked him if he��d been asked to help, and he was adamant about asking by himself, that’s what he said. He said: “You think I gotta be told to ask people for help? I can’t just be doin’ things on my own?” and it had felt so much like doublespeak that Etho didn’t even fight to differentiate his tone.

But Bdubs had asked if he wanted to help with the horse course. Terraforming—it should be right up his alley, if he’s still into that kind of stuff. Figured he was the expert—or so it goes. Etho had nodded. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. He supposes he could have easily said no.

But every part of him yearned to say yes.

So he did.

The dust sifts through his fingers.

Etho perches in the grass, partially hunched as he leans over his line of redstone, shrouded by the hill half-built around him. He’d spent most of the week prior carving out the lines of the track, setting posts for buildings, laying out blueprints for Bdubs to finalize. Today, he lays his line meticulously, dust shifting in his hands. They still shake a bit—nothing a human would notice, nothing that disrupted the flow of his lines, but the overworked gears still shifted in protest as he worked. He could see the faded overlay of the project in his vision if he focused. It crackled, slightly blue-yellow, orange glowing indicators where action was needed, where there were mistakes to be corrected.

It isn’t his redstone to fix. The lines under his hands were—freshly laid by his near-expert technique—but the deeper lines, noteblock announcements, droppers, doorgates, the flourish of the house course, weren’t. Etho smooths out the line he was standing near with his thumb.

There was nothing wrong with the laid redstone, really. It’s just. Well. It’s not even. It takes up so much space. It lacks the efficiency and tidiness he practiced to a precision. It radiated Bdubs in an overpowering way, one that might turn a gear of the heart—one he didn’t have, of course. Etho’s lines are neat, rigid, conforming to his perfect mental map.

He lets down his section of dust, drifting over to the dispenser system. He pushes a line further into place, brushing dust back from the side. Further on, where the line crosses, he readjusts it, he smooths them from start to end of line. His hands work where his mind recalculates, looking for errors along the redstone already laid out by Bdubs. Programs bubble up to assist; he dismisses a message, and another as he works. The line straightens from source to sink.

As he passes, searching for another correction, he hears someone above him. In the corner of his vision, another message notification pings: from Bdubs.

They’re all from Bdubs, actually, now that he notices in full. He blinks, mouth twisting into a frown. Whoops.

He hears someone—Bdubs, he realizes, as he notes the fall of his feet, and the sigh he hops down from his horse, the shuffle of said horse, hooves on grass—clear their throat. Bdubs shuffles around as Etho moves back over to his finished redstone, dusting his hands on the sides of his pants. He lifts the small bag of dust, twisting the tie shut around his fingers as he travels back up the line to recheck the connections.

“Etho?” Bdubs calls. Etho straightens, just on instinct alone, glancing up at the stretch of sky he can see. It’s bright blue, barely dotted with clouds, and the grass looks warm with sun. He fixes where the dust starts as he sections off the end, tossing the rest of the redstone over to his sling bag.

“Under the hill!”

Bdubs leans over the edge, tilting his head at Etho as he peers into the dark. It takes him a moment to find Etho’s face, partially obscured by black fabric and the fluff of wool around his collar. Etho tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you need something?” he asks, arm hanging loosely by his side. Bdubs frowns, too, watching Etho’s expression. As his eyes seem to adjust to the dark, his gaze falls on the lines of redstone. He pauses there for a long moment. In that moment, Etho feels something in his chest grind, almost to a noticeable ache. If he could pull in a breath to settle it, he might have, but the sensation and minute sound passes as soon as he moves his hand to press flat against his regulator. Bdubs is gone when he looks up, reappearing only as he drops into the cavern, catching himself on the wall. He readjusts his cloak around his shoulders, shuffling into the low-light.

“Etho,” he says, still frowning. Etho looks him over. He watches Bdubs set his hands on his hips, but his heart rate stays even and his temperature level. The only thing that changes is the tone of his voice, fluctuating with a pattern Etho recognizes as forcing something. Bdubs takes a long breath in and lets it out. Etho’s eyes find the twitch of his fingers as he folds his arms, rather than the sharp curve of his mouth.

“Yes?” Etho asks. He feels his pump work a little harder. It kind of hurts still, whatever’s stopped working in his chest. He flicks his eyes, recalling a diagnostic, setting it to run in the background as he closes out of the overlays and the world returns to yellowish-grey. Bdubs is still frowning.

“You mind tellin’ me what’s wrong with this redstone?”

Etho blinks. The diagnostic comes up clear.

“What do you mean?” he says, his expression shifting into something copying amusement. He’s trying. He’s at least trying to mimic the emotions he sees. Soon enough it’ll feel natural, he’s certain. “What’s wrong with it?”

Bdubs snorts, which turns into a laugh, which turns into Etho smiling a bit wider, a bit more confusion lingering in his expression as he leans around Bdubs to check his meticulously placed line. Bdubs turns away from him, facing the system, the clock that linked the start gates to the timer below.

“What’s—” Bdubs scoffs, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with it? Etho—” he holds out his hand, waving Etho over. Etho lingers at his shoulder as he steps forward, peering over the curve of it and the moss and small leaves and flowers draped over his neck. “It’s too perfect.”

Etho makes a sound like a scoff now, a caught sound in his vocal unit, a stuttering start to his sentence that doesn’t form right away. He’s trying for surprise, the pitch of his voice rising unexpectedly.

“It’s too perfect?” he asks.

Bdubs nods. After a moment, Etho thinks he sees his expression shift, the high of his cheek rising. When Bdubs turns his head to look at him, just for a second, Bdubs is smiling.

“Bdubs,” Etho says, sighing, turning away from him, to his bag on the far side of the room. He shakes his head. That something-nothing in his chest flutters and fades and disappears all at once, instead replaced with the urge to smile back. Bdubs laughs, and Etho can imagine him tipping his head back, mouth curved up as he giggles to himself. Etho shakes his head. As he starts to pull away from Bdubs, he feels him catch his sleeve, holding fast to his elbow.

“Etho, wait—” Bdubs giggles. “It looks really good.”

Etho raises his eyebrows. Caught in Bdubs grasp, all he can do is look at him, head tilted, trying not to let the amusement show on his face. Bdubs giggles, face breaking again as he does.

“Etho…” he tries again, fighting back a smile. Etho tilts his head the other way, as if to prompt him further, looking for anything. He stays silent. Bdubs hand lowers slowly, that smile faltering just a fraction. Maybe he thinks Etho’s upset with him. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You gonna say anythin’? Or you just gonna stand there?”

Etho smiles, finally. He shrugs a little, glancing over at the fixed lines of redstone.

“I fixed your redstone,” he says cooly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. Bdubs blinks. He jerks away as Etho’s smile grows, shoving him hard in his shoulder. Etho wobbles for a moment, smiling to himself, scrunching up his face as Bdubs’ expression morphs. He does laugh, after a beat, poking Etho in the shoulder as he does. Etho hopes he can see the smile in his eyes. He saves, logs, keeps this moment. He’s sure in the low light that his LED spins yellow for a moment. It feels right. If there’s any feeling to catalog.

Bdubs huffs. Etho thinks he hears him say something under his breath. It sounds a lot like thank you.

It’s out of habit, rather than obligation, that Etho finds himself back at the horse course. Of course he ends up here, his feet moving him about as if his brain-not-brain had no thoughts of its own. Man. Some days, it really felt human.

He wanders across the plain, eyes lingering on fully-built buildings, knowing the schematics and plans, watching as those plans-now-buildings stretched higher above his head, where they nearly threatened to pop the sky wide open.

Bdubs had sat down with him earlier that week, papers spread out between them. He’d stopped by, actually—worked his way up the mountain to the base Etho had finally finished, papers in hand, looking like he was on the verge of collapse. He’d dropped the blueprints on the largest table Etho had managed to clear, spreading out the designs for huge, complex buildings. Etho watched him explain, listened for the inflection of when to offer suggestions, heard the way Bdubs’ voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as he explained his palette. There was something methodical in the way Bdubs spoke, not only in the approach to his colors, but to his style. As much as it seemed eclectic and strange, he watched the pieces fall together as Bdubs spoke of his gradients. There was something deeper there, a precision that Etho, all of a sudden, in that room, craved to emulate. To write to disk. To save. To do more than just copy.

He’d built the horse stable first—all to his own specifications. It was Bdubs later who came in to detail, tilling up the dirt around to plant grass and flowers, sectioning off parts of the empty stable. It was almost difficult to compartmentalize that Bdubs was finished with it now. That they’d worked each line of the redstone and Etho had supervised the first steps of building, and now he could look up and see the very top, or almost, if he were to strain, of the spikes above the buildings.

And in just a few weeks, Bdubs was onto another project. Etho smiles to himself. He can’t help it. There was something rather comforting about that. Something about Bdubs dragging him along to help, pointing him toward the thing he was good at, and asking for help. Bdubs showing up at his door with plans. Bdubs cracking jokes with him, and looking for a laugh Etho couldn’t replicate yet. It’s like something clicked. Or was just on the breach of it. And Etho liked it.

Etho clears his field of view, taking in, instead, the stretch of sky where it met the ocean, along the line of hills and grass and flowers, and further still, to the smudge that looked like Bdubs. He blends in too well—the green of his coat barely noticeable against the field of grass that splayed out from the side of his build. There were still materials strewn about—chests half opened, shulkers stacked waist high.

Bdubs stands to the side of a dark grey and white horse, one hand placed on its nose, the other digging through his bag. Etho watches for a moment. Bdubs fishes around for that entire second that he lingers, searching for something, until he pulls out an apple. Another falls to the ground, rolling away from him. He holds out the fruit for the horse as Etho clears his throat.

“Hiya, Bdubs—” he says as Bdubs startles, twisting around to see him. He huffs, an immediate frown coming to his face. Bdubs turns to fetch the dropped apple, holding it high above his head as the grey horse nudges its nose into his empty hand. He pats it instead.

“Etho,” he says, tone thin. He sighs, shaking his head. “Scared the life outta me, you know that? You gotta make some noise when you’re walkin’ around.”

Etho smiles, a nice and easy reaction to the annoyance in Bdubs’ voice. It’s getting easier. At least a bit. The smiling part, that is. The inflection that comes with being happy.

“I’ll try next time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. His hands find his pockets as he looks around, eyes following the path around the buildings. He’s sure the pollen and moss will be stuck to his clothes for days before he gets them out.

“Mm,” Bdubs hums, unconvinced. “I’m sure you will. Now, what’re you doin’ here? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“That’s a good question,” Etho says.

Bdubs turns back to him for a second, just a glance over his shoulder as he cocks his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows before he turns back to the horse, who’s started to nose at his bag. He drags his hand down its nose.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t have an objective right now?”

“I never have an objective, Bdubs.”

Bdubs snorts again . Etho steps over, slow, minding the horse. It sniffs as Etho holds out his hand, nosing his gloved palm. He pats the horse's nose, somewhat stilted, smoothing over the soft bridge of his nose.

“Right,” Bdubs hums. When Etho glances over to him, Bdubs glances away, as if he’d lingered as Etho stepped over. He’s not moved from Etho’s side, which. Makes something fit into Etho’s chest in a way he isn’t expecting. He rests his hand on the horse's head, looking over at Bdubs in full.

“I can’t come see how the horse course is looking, now that you’re done?” he asks. Bdubs makes an embarrassed sounding noise, watching the rise of the buildings to their left. The horse sniffs, and Etho lifts his hand away, letting it fall to his side.

“I—I got excited about it,” Bdubs mutters. If Etho leans enough, he can see the beginnings of a flush creep over his cheeks, up the shell of his ear. Something about that, too. Etho looks beyond him, though, studying the rise of the buildings as Bdubs does. He nods to himself.

“I can tell,” he says, amusement slipping into his voice, almost naturally. Immediately, Bdubs whips around again, face twisted in offense.

“Hey!” he snaps. “You makin’ fun of me?”

Etho shakes his head, spreading his hands out in front of him as he does.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, hoping the smile he’s giving is reaching his eyes. “I’m saying we make a pretty good team.”

Bdubs makes a little huff of a sound, but his posture and expression softens. Etho studies it from the moment it appears, trying to place the emotion behind it. He seems upset—but not from anything Etho said. He almost looks guilty.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Bdubs mumbles. Etho blinks.

“Since when have we been a team?”

“Since—s…” Bdubs blurts, then backtracks, folding his arms over his chest. “Well we’re a team now!”

Etho raises his eyebrows, stepping away from the horse and more around Bdubs’ side. He leans in a bit as he stands by his side, bumping their shoulders together. Bdubs doesn’t recoil. Instead, he pushes back, just for a moment, and they jostle. Bdubs hums, sighing through his nose.

“Are we?” Etho asks. Bdubs nods, short and firm.

“Mhm! ‘Cause I said so.”

Etho nods with him. There’s that thing again, a turning, jostling, in some part of his chest that really shouldn’t turn or jostle. He can feel his temperature tick up just a few degrees, a fan kicking on to settle the temperature, thirium sludging warm to cold through his limbs. A team, huh? He couldn’t beat Bdubs’ conviction, that’s for sure. Maybe it was a bit of guilt, then. Maybe something in Bdubs had realized Etho was much more of a help than a hindrance. Maybe Bdubs wanted a friend. Maybe he just felt bad and the feeling bad got to a point where he had to just do something about it. Etho didn’t know. He didn’t live inside Bdubs’ brain. And picking at Bdubs’ every emotion was a task enough to drive his processor into the ground. He could already feel another spike in temperature, LED glowing yellow-blue. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Etho sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I’d like that,” he says, finally pushing out the words as his programming jumps into gear, “What’s our next project then?”

Bdubs goes back to jostling him before he turns away, moving from Etho’s side to collect his horse. Gathering the horse's reins in his hands, Bdubs pauses.

“Ooh…” he says, frowning a little. Etho watches the little furrow of his eyebrows—thinking. Bdubs is turning the idea over in his head. Bdubs steps back over with the horse in tow, already walking in the direction of the horse stable. Etho jolts forward, taking several big steps to match Bdubs’ pace. “Well why don’t you come back to the clock and we can talk about it, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

Bdubs makes an affirmative sound, leading the horse around and into the stable. Etho watches him unlatch the gate, ushering the horse into the pen.

“I can put the kettle on and everything,” Bdubs says. He lifts the bridle out of the horse’s mouth, running his hand along the length of the horse’s nose. Etho doesn’t mean to watch him as he does, but the action is so purposeful. There’s a moment where Bdubs’ expression is unreadable—unreadable as in Etho simply can’t place anything on it. Unreadable in the amount it changes—something softer than he’s seen, something far away. Bdubs’ whole demeanor seems to shift as he stands still for a moment. Etho isn’t sure what to do with himself. He’s just standing in straw and dirt and stones, all of which he can feel under his shoes. He shuffles a bit, back and forth, to make his presence known, before he says:

“You know I can’t drink anything, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs rolls his eyes, squinting over at him, stepping away from the horse to hop the gate.

“Well you can at least fake it,” he grumbles. He folds his arms again, wrinkling his nose at Bdubs as Bdubs leads him out of the pen and into the open field around the horse course. The shadow of the buildings above them hasn’t changed, yet. The sun is still high and warm in the sky.

Etho laughs. At least, he makes a sound that he thinks passes as a laugh. Bdubs laughs too, though, so it must sound pretty convincing. He nods, the smile on his face feeling much more natural than he ever could have expected.

“I could fake it,” he laughs. “Sure.”

Bdubs grins at him. It’s nice. It makes the walk back to his base a little more bearable.

By the time Etho gets his invitation to the life game, he’s grown accustomed to being at Bdubs’ side again. He wanders around Bdubs’ base like he knows it, makes it a spot he chooses to map, to memorize. Bdubs checks in on him when he isn’t around as much—asks him how his builds are going, wonders if he needs help. Bdubs lingers in his spaces too, like a plant trying to root, gives himself reasons to stand in doorways just a bit longer, just enough to extend their goodbyes. It feels right—in a way that almost gives reason to Etho’s deviation. Maybe, deep down, from their first introduction, Etho had decided to glue himself to Bdubs’ side and not become unstuck. Maybe he’d simply put that decision, his first ever decision, into motion that day. It didn’t matter much as to why anymore.

When Etho gets his letter, he doesn’t open it. He holds it between two fingers, turning it over and over. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says. There’s a dark red seal on the back, shaped like a heart. He makes a little sound, some sort of click in the back of his mouth, before he stuffs the letter in his pocket, half-folded.

He finds Bdubs exactly where he expects. Bdubs is sitting cross-legged in his garden, hands in the dirt, when Etho arrives at the crescent moon base. If he looks closely enough, Etho can still tell that Bdubs’ own letter sits on his window sill in the kitchen, unopened. But he’s really squinting to notice, so he writes it off for now as a flaw in his own sight.

Bdubs turns to him as he walks up. His hair is pushed back away from his face with his bandana, and his hands are covered in dirt, and he’s got a streak of black soil across his forehead that Etho tries not to look at for too long. Bdubs shoots him a toothy grin, going back to his bright orange tulips. If Etho looks long enough, he could probably guess the soil mixture, and tell him if it's good enough to be planting orange tulips in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand behind him and Bdubs hums in greeting.

“Etho,” he says, looking up again, wiping the dirt from his forehead. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Etho says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He forgets who he picked the gesture up from, but it’s become part of his natural body language patterns now, so he won’t be stopping it anytime soon. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

“How I was doin’, huh?” Bdubs asks, amusement trickling into his voice. Etho smiles, feeling his face pull.

“Mhm,” he says. “That’s right. I can’t come and check up on a friend?”

Bdubs laughs, sticking his spade in the dirt.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” he says, still giggling as he turns around. “I thought we were just a team.”

Etho watches him lean back on his hands, legs coming out from under him. He tries to read Bdubs’ expression and voice for any note of insincerity, or play, or teasing, but doesn’t find anything he normally associates with Bdubs. This just feels true.

“I mean, I figured with how much we’ve been working together…” Etho starts, to which Bdubs startles, waving his hands.

“No, no!” Bdubs yelps. “Etho, I thought the same thing! I just wasn’t expectin’ it from you.”

Etho blinks. It feels owlish, small, almost a wrong reaction to hearing Bdubs say something like that. But it’s what immediately happens, before he tries to open his mouth, and no sound comes out. He waits for a moment. He assumes his LED spins, maybe even red, as Bdubs watches him, face paling.

“Oh,” Etho says quietly.

“We’re friends,” Bdubs says, voice much smaller than Etho’s ever heard it. “‘S that alright with you?”

Etho feels like the proper response would be to laugh, if he could really feel anything at all besides every gear in his chest halting and restarting themselves. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a cough.

“Mhm,” he says. He watches Bdubs’ shoulders relax and finds that his own posture sinks with it.

“Good,” Bdubs says, nodding along. “Was there anything else you wanted to scare me with?”

Etho knows this tone—playful. Teasing. He works up a smile and fishes the letter from his pocket, slightly bent. Bdubs’ eyes flick right to it, right to the red seal pressed into the paper. Immediately, he scrambles up, reaching for the note in Etho’s hands. Etho lets him grab it in his dirt-covered fingers, even as Bdubs tries frantically to dust off his hands as he notices. Bdubs turns it over itself, glancing up at Etho.

“It’s for you?”

Etho nods.

“It was on my doorstep this morning,” he says. “I can see you’ve got one in your window?”

Bdubs snorts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened the damn thing. I’m excited up until the point I’m not, ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose again.”

Etho hums. As Bdubs hands him back the letter, Etho rests his hand on his shoulder, giving it a hesitant, light squeeze. Bdubs looks quickly down at it, before he’s back to staring at Etho’s face.

“Don’t worry, Bdubs,” he says, hoping his voice is full of amusement and affection like he feels like it is. “You’ll have me there this time!”

And Bdubs laughs, full and warm in his chest, and Etho jostles him around as he does, until Bdubs is smacking his shoulder and wiggling free. He picks up his fallen hat and his tools, and Etho follows him around the side of the house as he puts things away. As he shuts one of the chest, Bdubs says:

“You mean that, though? You wanna be on a team?”

Etho smiles, feeling his eyes squint, forces every ounce of new feeling into his words when he says:

“I don’t think I wanna team with anyone else, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs’ grin in excitement is more than enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

It’ll be a long two weeks until the death game starts. When he returns home later that night, Bdubs’ plans for success turning over in his brain, recording for later, Etho reads over the letter enough to commit the page to memory. He keeps it safe internally as the letter finds its way to his bookshelf, half-sealed. Through him, like it’s just under the skin, runs an emotion he’s not yet familiar with. He hopes it's a good one, at the very least. He hopes so, as much as an android, a machine, someone just now familiar with the idea of free will, can hope.

It feels good, though. And something makes him think that everything will turn out just fine.

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markrosewater · 2 months

Note

Echoing what that other guy said, I have felt a rise in complexity recently. With so many new cards that not only make you read and remember what they do, but what the tokens they make do, then what the tokens that that token makes does, it really adds to the mental load. Some examples would be Ring Tempts You, daybound/nightbound, initiative, Venture into the dungeon, stickers, attractions, and many more.

For instance, had a vindicate, and was debating between killing Frodo, sauron’s bane and Nahar, selfless paladin, I would have to read a total of 6 cards. Each of the original creatures, plus the 3 dungeons and the Ring card. And this problem gets worse the more effects you add on, many of which don’t go away as the game continues. If someone introduces the initiative, I now have to worry about nahar exploring the underdark. This scaling complexity as the game continues now means there’s an insane amount layers of the game, which while fun, is also very daunting, and somewhat of a headache.

If nothing else, I’d really like if “reading the card explains the card” was true, not “reading the card, then the three different extra cards that it makes explains the card”

I do appreciate your listening, and generally a lot of the new stuff has been cool. However, this push for many “outside the game” mechanics is not great for paper play, and I would prefer less of it.

Here's the core problem. A huge part of Magic is that we keep making new cards. When we do that, the audience wants new mechanics. (Market research shows again and again that one of the biggest draws to new sets is new mechanics.) We're thirty years in. We've made a *lot* of mechanics, so we have to go to new spaces to make new things. It's not as if there's lots of simple, elegant, non-complex design space that we're actively choosing not to do.

What this means is if you want to play constructed formats that don't rotate, complexity will rise with time. There's literally no way around this. Every new card we create, every new mechanic we make, every set we put out adds complexity to the system.

So if you're finding the mental load too much, there are ways to play Magic where this isn't an issue. Limited formats and rotating constructed formats limit complexity. Or you can choose to build your decks such that you focus on less mechanics you have to track.

That said, I don't think there's a way for me to do my job (aka keep designing new things) that isn't going to raise complexity. We can look at how many things we add to any one set. Maybe slow down the rise in complexity a little. But can we do so in a way that the audience is getting what they want? I'm not sure.

One of the mechanics I get asked most to bring back is mutate, and that's confusing even without the rest of Magic, so there are many forces pulling in different directions.

I do like hearing the specific things that cause you all problems, because it's possible I can figure out the style of designs that cause people problems. But the idea that we just stop making mechanics that reference things not on the card is a tough one given where Magic design technology is currently at.

I do appreciate all the input, and I hope the dialogue helps me better understand what specific things are causing problems.

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commodorez · 3 months

Note

Do you have a favourite rotary telephone?

Excellent question!

Yes, I have a favorite:

The Northern Electric Pyramid phone from about 1935. I had this on my desk at my old job, tied into the telephone system. Its distinctive ring made it really easy to discern if I was the one being called instead of my coworkers. The chrome dial and the area code indicate that this unit came from Canada.

Coming in second place is my Northern Telecom 500-style set with official Commodore branding -- also from Canada. These were sold with VICMODEMs in a special bundle exclusively in the Canadian market. The VICMODEM requires that you detach the cord from the handset, plug it directly into the modem, then dial for the computer.

Problem is that you can't do that here, because the handset cord is permanently attached! Solution? The little white adapter box called the VIC 1605. Very hard to find, but I found one.

Coming in third place would be the Contempra from Northern Electric/Telecom from 1967 (why do these keep being Canadian?). Beautiful colors, angles. Great phone, but sadly I don't have one. Atleast not one like this... NT made these into lineman's test sets (commonly called butt sets because they hang on a lineman's belt by their butt/you use them to butt-in to a call when testing things).

I bought one and turned it into the NT2017 Rotary Cellphone, a real working 2G cellular telephone. It's got an Adafruit Fona board inside with an Atmel 32U4 microcontroller, a little screen, and zero ability to send/receive text messages. It didn't work very well, but it was really fun to build and use before it broke. Construction was very fragile, and my code running it was hot garbage. Since the discontinuation of 2G cell service, it's just decorative at this point.

The last one of my favorites is one I certainly don't have: a late 19th century Skeleton Telephone from Ericsson. Technically not a rotary phone, but it does have a crank that you rotate!

These are expensive, really hard to find, and obviously rather difficult to use without having an operator to ring up when you turn the crank. However, they are stunningly beautiful, and all of the functionality is on display arranged in such a way to accentuate the elegance of its industrial design.

How about you? Do you have a favorite rotary phone?

#rotary phone #northern electric #northern telecom #contempra #commodore #ericcson skeleton phone

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bestworstcase · 9 days

Note

i am asking you about tdt! remnant with particular interest in unhinged climate

it is so kind of you all to enable me (@meltedintoair @froginboillingpastawater @lemon-embalmer @blakistan)

don’t mind the unfinished continent i’m still (through gritted teeth) figuring the strandlines out… also if you’re wondering why solitas looks like that it’s because for narrative reasons i needed land at the north pole here’s what she looks like Put Together

ANYWAY you will notice that i’ve moved things around. anima and menagerie north by a solid 30’ and rotated sanus a little bit counter-clockwise for the sake of not having vale and vacuo on almost the same latitude. mostly this is for the sake of bringing the various climates of these places into more reasonable bounds for an earthlike-ish climate—except for vale, which has a maritime climate with cool summers and coldish winters at 6’N, because i fixated on the puzzle of “earthlike climate except for this One Region” like you would not believe.

but before we get to Refrigerated Vale we have to talk about

✨the moons✨

yes moons plural. because i looked at the broken moon and heard the siren call of THE TIDES. tdt!remnant has three moons: mar, the original, which is (like the canon moon) not tidally locked and has a massive dark crater on one side (THE MOUTH OF THE MOON–), and the much smaller anthe + ogmios, which formed through the accretion of debris flung away when the god of darkness exploded the moon and are smaller.

INCIDENTALLY the hegemonic calendar is a lunisolar calendar with months correlating to mar’s cycle and 8-day weeks (octs) correlating to ogmios’ much shorter cycle; anthe is culturally associated with the god of animals and khimerism—that’s the monotheistic worship of the god of animals practiced by many fauni—has an anthean lunar calendar that is wildly different. the vytali common calendar has 12 months divided into 8-day octs (with some gnarly intercalation going on to align the calendar with the solar year); the khimeric calendar has 17 months divided into 9-day enneads with an intercalary month and handful of three-day-long leaping festivals that rotate the calendar through the solar year in a fifteen year cycle. it would be remiss of me not to plug fantasy-calendar for all your batshit calendar making needs. i have a spreadsheet where i pin down all the math and then just set everything up in FC it has never let me down.

back of napkin math:

on average the tides are about +/- 3.9 m. neap tides where all three moons pull against each other, +/- 3.7 m. spring tides where they line up, +/- 4.2—these are the open ocean tidal range, coastal tides are highly variable but as a very rough estimate tidal ranges along the (habitable) coasts are probably somewhere between ~2 and ~16m, with significant amounts of uninhabitable coastline where the tidal range is much larger and building on the high tide coast means your settlement is several kilometers inland at low tide. riverside building is also quite difficult because tidal bores are. pretty extreme

port cities don’t have harbors the way we think of them. they have either sprawling, complicated systems of locks operated by konurgists (=professional practitioners of dust-based magic) or they have cliffside dry docks designed for lightweight vessels to ride in and out with the tides. vale’s wharf district is a maze of locks and caissons. argus and kuo kuana have dry harbors.

the other thing about multi-moon systems is you get more significant tidal flexing ergo more volcanism

so where earth experiences ~70 volcanic eruptions per year on average, remnant the triple moon tsunami tides planet gets to have a “statistically there is always a volcano erupting somewhere in the world” trivia question, and all the air quality problems and acid rain you get from that.

SO the first consideration with regard to tdt remnant’s earthlike climate is that the conditions which produce it are very different; i… am That kind of person who back of napkin crunched numbers for all of this (and spent like an hour fiddling to not tidally lock the planet to the star 😭) BUT the numbers don’t matter per se; the salient piece is that the sun is both cooler and a little further away than ours (<- yes this IS me looking into the camera like i’m on the office about the god of light) and the planet is kept habitable by tidal heating, meaning the friction produced by the moons stretching and squeezing the planet as they orbit around it.

the moons stress balling the planet is also what causes The Volcanoes, which release greenhouse gasses (keeping remnant warmer than it would otherwise be) but also semi-regularly you’ll get enough big eruptions in clusters to Deflect The Fucking Sun like it’s 1816 and global temperatures nosedive and climates all over go haywire for a year or two. i think this happens on average about once per century but the current historical period—the seventh era—begins with a quarter century called the forge years when the planet got HAMMERED by four really bad volcanic winters in quick succession. think “14th century black plague” levels of decimation, except it was worldwide famines + just an explosion of conflicts and wars over food sources + grimm, whose populations spike whenever there’s a major volcanic event because the planet’s mantle is a mixture of molten rock and atrum (=grimm juice).

(there are very few true herbivores in this world. there are a lot of animals that eat plants when it’s warm and meat when it’s cold. true herbivores tend to be either animals that store huge food caches or animals that can go a really, really long time without eating. plants mostly either develop super deep root systems, or pump out antifreeze proteins when the temperature drops, or develop cold-mediated serotiny, or a combination.)

BECAUSE OF ALL THAT, remnant’s oceans circulate in a completely different way than ours; tidal heating warms the bottom water at the poles, causing it to rise in strong east-to-west or west-to-east currents, forcing colder surface water downwards and flowing towards the equator. consequently remnant does not have permanent ice caps, although most of solitas is perpetually snowy above its strandline.

(the strandline is where the water is at high tide; as noted in many cases this is several kilometers inland from the low-tide coast. anima, solitas, alukah—that’s the unnamed dragon continent—and sanus are all a single contiguous landmass at low tide, with huge land bridges exposed. it is generally not a good idea to try to walk, with the exception of one specific island chain that is small enough to traverse safely on foot by walking island-to-island over a span of about three days, four if you’re being cautious.)

the upshot of all this is it’s relatively warmer and wetter at the poles and cooler and drier at the equator compared to earth, because the oceans are effectively upside-down, warmest at the bottom near the poles. (if you’re wondering why the tidal heating is distributed this way, the real-world exemplar i’m working from is europa. interesting reading!)

northern anima is a bit of a special case because even though it looks coastal, it isn’t; the sea in between it and solitas is very, very shallow and at low tides is just this for hundreds of kilometers:

so within that curve of the “dragon neck” shape, the whole strandline is functionally landlocked with respect to the warm rising polar currents and during the wintertime can actually get colder than the region of solitas where mantle is located.

and then there’s the impact of dust.

i’ve drifted quite a bit off the basic ‘fantasy elements’ approach taken with dust in canon because the concept of dust as a sort of crystallized energy appeals to me; so there are four basic kinds of dust (thermal, electromagnetic, kinetic, chemical) which can be further divided into subcategories by their specific actions. for example most ‘burn’ and ‘ice’ dusts belong to the thermal family and are distinguished by whether they radiate heat or absorb it. and i say ‘most’ because there are also things like organic-solar/“bog” dust, which forms in peat deposits and produces heat but is classed as an electromagnetic dusts because it’s solar-powered.

large deposits of dust modify the regional climate in often dramatic ways. and this is how we get Refrigerated Vale—the difference between vale and other equatorial regions isn’t as huge as it would be on earth, because remnant’s equatorial band is relatively cool and generally falls more into a ‘warm-to-hot mediterranean climate’ than tropical, but vale is very noticeably cold for its latitude. there are Two Reasons for this.

one is what i’m calling the tarthic koniohaline climate system (TKCS pronounced “ticks”). the tarth sea—that’s the body of water surrounded by alukah, solitas, and sanus—has a huge, several-hundred-kilometer-long seam of variegated dust running along the southern continental shelf, roughly following the curve of the alukite/sanite coastline but further out to sea. (“variegated” meaning it’s a mixture of different types all sort of entangled together.) sort of akin to a barrier reef, but dust.

the tarthic dust formation is mostly a mix of absorptive thermal dusts (colloquially: frost) and kinetic dusts (colloquially: tidal) which together act to cool and desalinate water upwelling against the continental shelf, which is then pushed southward in a clockwise direction along the sanite/alukite coast. that produces a very cool, wet climate along the coastline with frequent thunderstorms as cold fronts coming off the water collide with warmer air rising from the vivax sea to the south (which again: think mediterranean).

vale sits on the southern periphery of the TKCS and is cooled by prevailing winds originating from the tarthic coast. it isn’t as rainy year-round as the vitrine peninsula but it does get quite a lot of precipitation.

the other factor Refrigerating Vale is that there’s absorptive thermal dust in the mountains, too. eastern vale—the counties in the northeast part of the continent, which were contested during the great war and (unlike in canon) not wholly lost to the grimm—has a very pleasant climate, warm summers and mild rainy winters, sometimes snow in the north and at higher altitudes. prevailing winds are fairly dry and warm when they hit the mountains and then rake over peaks that are just covered in frost/ice dusts and act as a giant heat sink, so western vale gets these bitterly cold, super dry winds pouring down the mountains during the summer that collide with warm coastal winds and cause huge storms. in winter the prevailing winds are much weaker, though still freezing, and blow further out to sea so there are fewer storms and infrequent snow but the snow that does fall tends to stick until the spring.

and that’s why the maragda valley is nicknamed the world’s refrigerator and vale’s chief export is various frost/ice dusts :)

OTHER FUN DUST-RELATED THINGS.

the southern part of alukah is called the mordicchiate coast and it’s one of the only regions in the world with a true tropical climate because it’s very, very rich in an assortment of kinetic dusts (mostly different grades of grav) that essentially cook the region by Vibrating Constantly

the other tropical region is in equatorial anima, a big swath of jungle and humid-subtropical grassland in what’s called the palash basin. it’s hot because it’s the caldera of an ancient supervolcano and one of the most volcanically active regions in the world. there are a lot of grimm. there are so many grimm in the palash basin. there’s also a strip of super-fertile land running along the northern rim of the palash region so people keep trying to live there anyway.

along the southwestern coasts of solitas (where those free villages are in arrowfell) there are just enormous underground seams of radiant thermal dusts which heat up the land enough that it’s possible to farm there during the summers; it still snows year-round, but the soil isn’t frozen so all you need is tents with clear panels you can uncover/cover to control sunlight.

the nequam desert—that’s the one surrounding vacuo—is also laced with radiant thermal dusts that bake what would otherwise be a warm arid steppe into a parched, burning-hot desert that wants to kill you. there are hotspots all over the place where the dust veins are so close to the surface that you can cook on the ground; nomadic desert peoples notoriously almost never use cooking fires and were instrumental to vacuo’s success in the great war because radar systems were still very rudimentary and no fires at night meant vacuan guerrillas could maneuver undetected until they appeared seemingly out of fucking nowhere to maul enemy supply convoys.

the wildlife in the menagerian interior are unique on remnant because there is a preponderance of electromagnetic and chemical dust formations on the surface—mostly “shock” dusts, which discharge or generate electricity—and the animals living have been in an evolutionary arms race for millions of years with the result that if it can’t generate electrical shocks on its own, it’s gluing electric rocks to itself decorator-crab style or it’s got specialized structures in its mouth that it can pack dust into and discharge shocks from when it bites you. “how can the wildlife be more dangerous than the grimm,” the rest of the world asks. “we have scorpions whose stings deliver an electric shock at a high enough voltage to kill you before you hit the ground,” says menagerie. “and lightning snakes. and an electrical tortoise. and storm bears–”

there’s a volcano called mount halog on the northwestern dragon-head peninsula of alukah that began to erupt in 332 VE—twenty-five years ago—and has been more or less continuously oozing lava and half-formed grimm ever since.

acid rain (and snow) is a worldwide issue because of the extreme volcanism and in rainy climates settlements exist in a more or less constant state of repair and reconstruction; once a settlement is abandoned it will fall into ruin very, very fast unless the climate is extremely arid. the most volcanically active regions in the world are northern alukah, the palash basin, and the east coast of anima; volcanic smog blows north to kuchinashi from the palash basin fairly regularly.

black rain is a very dangerous weather phenomenon caused by ateric ash—the stuff grimm disintegrate into when they die—floating up into the atmosphere and then precipitating down as liquid atrum. which. coagulates into new grimm. the drippings from the wyvern in canon are the same in principle but much more severe; typically black rains will spawn lots of small grimm—think rat- or cat-sized—and may not leave puddles large enough to form something like a beowolf at all. but a swarm of rat-sized grimm is still no picnic, and black rain is difficult to forecast, so within the vytal league it’s standard practice for huntsmen and grimm extirpation forces to be kept at the ready whenever heavy precipitation is expected, just in case it’s tainted.

the oceans are also quite a bit more acidic than earth’s and tend to be very nutrient-rich near the poles and barren with pockets of life here and there in the equatorial regions—which, as discussed in the Whale Post, in combination with the relative cold creates selective pressure for VERY LARGE akin to the phenomenon of abyssal gigantism but extended higher into the middle pelagic zones. the greatest diversity and density of oceanic life is around the north pole.

(the MONSTER WHALES are called hafgufa, females live in pods around the north pole, males are solitary and range worldwide.)

also,

because atrum does not freeze above absolute zero, and because the planetary mantle is atrum intermixed with magma, every spreading rift in the ocean also constantly pumps out rivers of atrum, which 1. plays an important role in moving and mixing waters to sustain those pockets of nutrient-rich waters where marine life flourishes in the equatorial regions, and 2. slowly but steadily spawns diluvian grimm. the VAST majority of grimm in the world are sea monsters born from these underwater rivers :)

#the guiding philosophy here is keep it in the neighborhood of earthlike but in a way that #only emerges through the interaction of these hellish extremes.#the brothers’ world was a paradise by divine fiat—without them remnant needs constant volcanism to be habitable.#through destruction: life.#the plate tectonics subordinate to the themes or else what’s the point. etc.

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my-head-is-an-animal · 8 months

Text

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 7

I’d spent the better part of the day climbing a newly constructed two hundred foot wall, one that would rotate continuously so that I could practice climbing with the equipment I was taking. We’d managed to get a closer look at the ship and realised that the side I would be climbing was similar to that of a glass building. There would be little in the way of ledges to latch onto, so Theo had designed suction pads for my shoes and gloves that would help me attach to the side of the ship.

The air pressure gun prototype was also ready to be properly tested, it would need around five minutes to recharge before being used again. I practised shooting it to pull me up, before climbing as high as I could with the suction pads. All in all, I would be able to scale quicker than anticipated and the gun could now shoot up to fifty feet above me. It was a godsend to be able to cut out as much climbing footage as possible, but there was still a lot more to climb.

After the third month I was able to climb ten thousand feet before feeling the fatigue stop me from going any further. There was still twenty thousand to go and so little time to make it. Lennox was coming up with a plan to try and cut out more footage, if they could accurately predict where the ship would land, it might have been possible for me to hop across from a tall building, but these were all big ifs.

I remembered my promise to Optimus and before I got truly tired, I decided to stop.

‘Something wrong?’ Lennox asked as I jumped down from the wall.

‘No.’ I shook my head, trying to get my breath back. ‘I just need to rest for a while.’

‘Okay.’ He frowned, but nodded anyway. ‘Recovery day tomorrow then and we’ll pick up on Friday.’

I nodded in agreement. Optimus was right, I needed the rest, my body was crying out for the recovery days and sometimes I felt they weren’t enough. I showered, ate and went back to my office where Theo was still trying to find ways to shave off both weight and distance needed to be covered.

‘We can make a smaller and more compact oxygen tank, one that will extract pure oxygen from the surrounding atmosphere,’ he said, excitedly. ‘You’ll have to use it sparingly, but it would be light.’

‘That’s all I care about right now.’ I nodded, drinking the rest of the water I was taking on like it was life itself. ‘The weight of the chute is what’s concerning me, is there any way we can shave off a couple of pounds there?’

Theo sighed, leaning on the desk in front of him. ‘No. I’ve looked over it hundreds of times and everything about it is already designed to be as light as possible, there’s no way to take anything else off of it.’

I was disappointed to hear it, but I doubted he’d find a way to reduce the weight anyway.

‘I was thinking about the bomb though.’ Theo said, a little more positively. ‘We may not have to use bomb, we could go a little more old school.’

‘How?’

‘Dynamite.’ He smiled.

‘Dynamite?’ I exclaimed, half laughing, before realising he was right. ‘You’re a genius.’

We spent the next few hours working on the calculations for how much dynamite would be needed to blow up the control system, it didn’t seem like much if we could find the right location.

I checked the time and realised I was late for meeting Optimus. I made some excuse to Theo and quickly went to the Autobot hanger, where Optimus was waiting outside in his transformed state.

As soon as I approached the door opened, making me smile. I gently hoisted myself inside the truck, unsure of where to put my hands or how to sit.

‘Relax.’ Optimus’s voice came through the radio. ‘I will take us to a place where we can talk freely.’

The truck began moving and I was eventually able to relax, watching the scenery around us. It was quite beautiful to see the rolling hills that was the backdrop to the base I was basically living on.

‘Sorry I was late.’ I suddenly said as we drove up towards the top of a hill. ‘Theo and I were working on the bomb aspect of the mission.’

‘It’s quite alright.’ Optimus hummed. ‘What progress have you made?’

‘Well, we’ve realised that our first plan to construct a bomb would still have an electronic aspect, but if we go old school and use dynamite, we can have the same affect, especially if we can find the right location.’

‘Ironhide can help you with that.’ He said, coming to a stop at the edge of the hill. It was a stunning view of the ocean as the sun began to descend in the sky.

‘Wow.’ I breathed. The door opened gently, and I shimmied across the seat to step out. I could hear Optimus transforming behind me as I stepped up to the edge of the hill. ‘It’s stunning.’

‘Your world has much beauty.’ Optimus commented, taking a seat in the grass beside me. ‘I do not often get to see it, but I have been told many times of the places I should visit.’

‘Yeah,’ I whispered, still looking out at the water. ‘It’s something.’

We sat for a few moments in silence and it was incredibly comfortable, relaxing almost. I still felt so small compared to him, but I no longer felt inferior, not when his presence was so calming.

‘May I ask how you came to be an engineer?’ Optimus asked, trying hard not to break the silence too hard.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I sort of fell into it really,’ I took a breath. ‘My dad was a mechanic, my mum studied space, so I guess I just got the best of both of them and now I work with space robots.’

Optimus laughed softly and it was nice to hear, I don’t think I’d ever heard him laugh before, he was always so serious.

‘They’re gone now, so all I’ve really got is Theo left. He’s a good friend.’ I wasn’t sure why I was going on so much, but it seemed he didn’t mind. ‘What about you? How did you get here?’ I asked and the weight I often saw him carrying, settled on his shoulders once again.

‘The war on our planet forced us to seek refuge,’ Optimus said, sadly. ‘We were stranded here on Earth and now we remain to help protect your kind from the Decepticons. We have no way to return home.’

‘I’m sorry you lost your home.’ I said placing my hand on his leg, I wanted him to feel how sorry I was. Optimus closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

‘Thank you.’ He breathed the words. I took my hand away and he went to move closer before stopping himself. ‘I apologise.’

‘For what?’ I frowned.

‘I…’ Optimus stopped himself and instead sighed.

I looked down at the ground for a moment, before standing and placing my hand on his leg once again. Clearly, he felt good when I did it, and something about his shape had me intrigued as well.

Optimus hummed gratefully, closing his eyes once again.

‘What does it feel like?’ I asked, running my hand over the sheet of metal that was his thigh. It was the only thing I could really reach.

‘Soft.’ He said, lowly. ‘Fragile, but strong. Safe.’ I liked that it wasn’t just my fragility he could feel, but also the way my body was changing into something stronger. ‘What do you feel? When you touch me?’ The question was so sincere. His blue eyes were softer, staring down at me, making me aware of his size, but never intimidating me.

‘Complexity.’ I said, honestly. ‘Hard metal and tight wires.’ Optimus hummed again. ‘You feel strong, but with the capacity to be gentle.’

‘You have no idea what it means to hear you say that Dr Harding.’ He almost breathed it.

‘You can call me Jane, you know?’ I chuckled, taking my hand away to stare up at him properly.

‘Jane.’ His voice was so low that it made my chest flood with heat. ‘I want you to know that your words have penetrated me in ways you cannot fathom.’ I frowned, but let a small smile go. ‘Your kind often look upon us and fear our size and strength, perceive it as a threat, but you notice our capacity for gentleness and kindness, I am grateful that I have not had to prove it to you, rather you see it on your own.’

I smiled. ‘I never believed you were here to hurt us, Optimus. I always knew you could be kind. You don’t have to prove anything to me.’

He turned so that he was leaning over me a little more. ‘I am unsure of how to ask my next question, so please forgive my hesitancy.’

‘Okay.’ I chuckled. ‘What is it?’

Optimus went to speak and for the first time, I saw him truly hesitate, like he really didn’t know how to ask for whatever it was he wanted.

‘I am uncertain of human relationship customs, but I would like to make clear that I desire a relationship with you.’ His eyes drifted over me easily and I could feel my heart racing. ‘How might I go about asking this of you?’

I couldn’t help but smile, even let out a small laugh, much to his confusion. ‘Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise.’ I assured him. ‘Well, I’m not actually an expert, I’ve never really been in a proper relationship before.’

‘Never?’ Optimus seemed surprised.

I shook my head. ‘No, but it doesn’t bother me. I always figured I’d end up with some physicist or a dentist maybe and I would have a very plain, boring life. Anyway.’ I shook my head again, trying to get back on track. ‘I guess I don’t really know the answer. How many Autobots and humans have relationships anyway?’

‘I am uncertain.’ Optimus shook his head, glancing out at the sun that had almost set. ‘I do not think it is a common occurrence at all.’

‘No, me neither.’ I smiled. ‘I like you a lot.’

It only occurred to me that I hadn’t said it before now, and judging from his softening expression, he was glad to hear it.

‘But I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship just yet.’ It was sad to see his expression dropping to one of disappointment, but I needed to be honest. ‘With everything that’s being asked of me, I don’t know if I could dedicate much of myself to anything else. Is that okay?’

‘Of course, it is.’ It was almost a snap. ‘I would not force anything upon you. It must be your choice and yours alone.’ He seemed ashamed that he’d let his anger seep in. ‘I apologise, it is not customary to force oneself upon another.’

‘It’s not customary here either.’ I told him. ‘But unfortunately, it happens. A lot.’

Optimus almost growled. ‘This has happened to you?’

I took a breath and thought on how best to approach the subject. ‘Optimus, you don’t need to worry about it. Please don’t think on the past as anything but that.’

He took a long moment to think before calming down and nodding. ‘Very well. I will think no more on it.’ He leaned back a little and indicated for me to sit with him again. ‘May I ask another question concerning a potential relationship?’

‘Sure.’ I chuckled, still not really believing that I was really having this conversation with the great leader of the Autobots.

‘Do you foresee a time when you could say yes to being with me?’

That was another big question, and I had no idea of what the answer was.

‘I’m not sure I can see further than three months at the moment.’ I admittedly honestly. ‘I wish I could say yes, that all I need is time process how overwhelming this is, but truthfully, I still don’t anticipate my survival. I hope I make it out, I hope I come home and live a life like my parents. Happy. But right now, it just seems too far away. Does that make sense?’

‘It does.’ Optimus nodded, still looking at the orange sky where the sun had disappeared behind the ocean. ‘It is a feeling I understand all too well.’ He paused for another moment. ‘What is it you find overwhelming?’

I chuckled again, leaning on my hand to look up at him. ‘These days I find just getting up overwhelming. But at the moment, I find sitting here with the leader of the Autobots and someone who is clearly a very big deal to everyone around him, extremely far out of my usual comfort zone. Not only that, but hearing that that same great leader likes me enough to want a relationship…’ I chuckled again. ‘It doesn’t feel real.’ I looked up at his bright blue eyes and saw that I had all of his attention. ‘I feel like I should still be in a lab somewhere with Theo trying to build parts for satellites and argue about what was on TV the night before. This isn’t what I thought my life would be.’

Optimus thought quietly for a while. ‘Is there any way I can make things easier for you?’ He asked, it was so simple and honest that it made me smile.

‘I don’t know.’ I confessed. ‘I suppose I’m just trying to normalise everything for myself. Make it all seem like every day.’

‘Optimus, do you copy?’ A voice suddenly came from his radio. It sounded like Lennox. ‘Optimus Prime, are you there?’

Optimus sighed before answering. ‘I am here.’

‘Thank God, we’ve got Decepticon activity closing in on the northern part of the base. Where are you?’

Optimus stood immediately.

‘Wait, aren’t we on the north side?’ I asked, feeling my heart shoot through the floor in panic. I stood up with Optimus in a panic.

‘Sergeant Lennox, I am on the north side of the base with Dr Harding.’ Optimus reported. ‘Calling all Autobots to my position. Calling all Autobots.’

The ground began shake and Optimus made sure to stand in front of me, ready for whatever was coming. I could hear the sounds of Lennox gathering a team to come and get me, but it wouldn’t be quick enough.

‘Optimus, what can I do?’ I asked, knowing I couldn’t just stand idly by and do nothing.

‘Run.’ He growled, his face guard snapping into place as he prepared to fight whatever was coming our way.

The second he spoke I could see something burrowing through the ground towards us. I did as I was told and began running towards the road Optimus had driven up earlier that evening.

The Decepticon burst out of the ground towards Optimus, who caught it in one hand and began fighting with the fish like creature. It was like a large trout with arms and legs and snapped it’s jaw around Optimus’s arm, making him cry out.

I stopped running, not knowing how far away back up was. I couldn’t just leave him to fight alone. The Decepticon had wriggled out of Optimus’s grasp and bitten his leg hard enough to make him fall, it was going for his face next. I found the nearest thing I could which was a broken tree branch and threw it as hard as I could at the Decepticon.

‘Hey!’ I yelled as I threw it. ‘Over here!’

The Decepticon’s red eyes slowly found me, and I knew immediately it was a bad idea. I started backing away, before breaking out into a run. I wasn’t quick enough to get away, but there was a small crevice where I could crawl into and remain safe until back up came.

‘Jane!’ I heard Optimus yell as I turned to see the small opening and slid inside. The Decepticon was much closer than I realised and began snapping it’s jaws, trying to get at me. Rocks were breaking off around me and I knew it would be on me in no time at all. I was trapped and about to be killed, this just wasn’t the first date I thought it would be.

‘Optimus!’ I screamed.

As soon as his name left my lips, the Decepticon was being dragged away by Optimus who had managed to pick himself up enough to follow behind me. I watched as Optimus Prime, the legendary leader of the Autobots held the Decepticon’s head and tail, stripping out it’s insides and killing it instantly.

I watched him then fall to the floor, holding his leg which looked pretty beaten up.

‘Optimus.’ I scrambled to my feet and darted out of my hiding place to check he was okay. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I am fine.’ He panted. ‘Are you injured?’

‘No, no.’ I said, doing a quick check. ‘I think I’m alright.’

The ground began shaking again, light was coming from the road behind us and Optimus was beginning to get to his feet once again.

‘I will not ask again.’ He growled. ‘Run.’

Another Decepticon burst out from the ground, just as it did, Bumblebee, Hound and Drift all charged to Optimus’s position. I began backing away, still unsure of if I should have left.

Hound had positioned himself to protect me from any incoming Decepticons, while Optimus continued to fight on the front lines. I’d never seen a real fight before, not least between Autobots and Decepticons; it was violent and terrifying, and another realisation hit. Not only would I be climbing an impossible amount, but I would be doing it in the middle of a warzone. It might not have been the climb that killed me in the end.

‘Harding!’ Lennox yelled from Ironhide’s transformed state. ‘Get back here!’ I did as I was told and ran back towards the soldiers who began firing. Ironhide transformed and joined Optimus in the fight.

‘She’s safe, Optimus.’ He yelled as he grabbed a Decepticon off of Bumblebee and stripped it apart. ‘We’ve got this. Bumblebee go!’

Bumblebee began running back to Lennox’s position and without any warning, he scooped me up and transformed into the familiar yellow Camaro. He drove me back to the base, but I couldn’t help but look back at the fighting.

‘He’ll be okay.’ Bumblebee said through his broken radio.

‘Where did they come from?’ I panted, feeling my heart pounding out of my chest.

‘No idea.’

Bumblebee dropped me back outside my quarters, but I needed a minute to breathe.

‘What’s happening? Where are they?’ I demanded.

He transformed into his natural form and tried to calm me. ‘It’s okay, they’re coming back now. Just try to stay calm.’

‘Okay.’ I nodded. ‘Okay.’ I repeated, taking slow, deep breaths and looking to the hill side where Optimus was being helped back by Hound and Ironhide. He looked like he was in pretty bad shape, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my being there had been a distraction more than a help.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

#optimus prime x ofc #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #optimus x reader #transformers

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astarions-musings · 4 months

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Our system spent this morning browsing some online plural communities, and it brought us down a little to hear about all the struggles and hardships that a lot of systems are going through. So I wanted to send some good vibes and positive experiences with our plurality out into the world, so a few people out there can be reassured and reminded that there's a happy life ahead of you. Being the change I want to see in the world, and all that ❤️

Our system is coming up on the third anniversary of our plural awakening, after many years of learning to support and nurture the different 'parts of ourselves' before we realised that we're actually separate people. And with every year that passes, our system becomes more comfortable, more interconnected, more mutually supportive, more welcoming for new headmates, and generally more comfortable to spend our lives together with. Our life in the external world has gradually become more peaceful and stress-free as well, so I honestly think our fourth year of plurality is gonna be our best one yet ❤️

Our system is very large (somewhere between hundreds or thousands of people), with one 'designed driver' (our less hierarchical phrase for a host) who's usually in the fronting room by default, a rotating cast of 20-50 headmates who currently feel like spending time at the front, a large number of people who want to generally vibe near the co-front and enjoy the life we're sharing together, and a very large number of anonymous headmates chilling in the background and doing their own thing. Our designated driver often ends up front-stuck in public spaces (as our form of masking), but in private and around people we feel safe around, we can switch on demand within one or two seconds. In the course of an average day, lots of us might come to the front for a while (to listen to some music, watch a fun show, spend time out in nature), then tag out for a while and enjoy the ride while our designated driver handles everyday life. Music is especially helpful for facilitating those switches, since we can either listen to our own playlists as a fronting anchor if we want to vibe at the front for a while, or put our system-wide playlist on shuffle and use that as rapid-fire fronting triggers to help a wide range of people to enjoy time near the front for a while. Honestly, music is one of the biggest things for our system's mental health ❤️

At this point in time, our system's internal community is doing pretty well. Most of us are broadly in agreement about our values and ideals, with a shared goal to live a peaceful and stress-free life where our young ones can live safely and our trauma holders can slowly unwind. Sometimes there's friction here and there about the execution of those goals (such as people who want to work hard towards building a happy life for us, clashing with people who want to slow down and rest), but I don't think intentional harm or conflict is something that really happens for us. It's sometimes tricky to navigate situations where people have clashing needs (such as spending time with our family vs. avoiding our past abusers), but every day, our system has more and more practice with navigating those situations. Most of the time, our day-to-day struggles are stuff like "There's 1000 different hobbies we could be spending time on, and different people want to enjoy different things." Living as a family unit can be tricky sometimes, but when our biggest challenges are "How do we share the front to have fun today?", it really puts things in perspective ❤️

Also, we're feeling more and more welcome in our social life with every passing day. We're out as plural around all of our friends, in our workplace (which is unusually plural-inclusive), in most of our local social groups, and with a couple of choice family members that we trust with that information. We have a whole bunch of plural friends online, and a couple of systems that we hang out with in person on a regular basis. Our system has a bunch of wonderful relationships with other plural systems, in which each of us individually can have our own wonderful relationships, as well as our system-wide connections with the people we trust. It would be nice if we had even more opportunities to front openly as ourselves, but those are slowly getting more and more common, with each passing day. It's tough sometimes, but it's also really wonderful as well ❤️

I don't have anything specific in mind for this post, and I honestly have no idea who might need to hear this right now. But I just want to share some positivity with the rest of the plural community, in case someone needs a reminder that it's not all doom-and-gloom. Y'all can have a good life together. Y'all can enjoy yourselves together. And eventually, your day-to-day challenges will be as simple as sharing the remote and agreeing as a group about how y'all want to enjoy yourselves today. There's a good life ahead of you, and I want you to remember that ❤️

#plural #pluralgang #plurality #plural system #plural positivity #traumagenic system #endo safe #pro endo #pluralpunk #plural community #aston's musings

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inquartata30 · 14 days

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Parallax: Chapter 2

Fandom: Mass Effect

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Politics

Relationship(s): Lexi T’Perro/OC (Thaia Kallistrate), Benezia/Aethyta, Benezia/Aethyta/Shiala

Characters: Lexi T’Perro, Thaia Kallistrate (OC), Aria T’Loak, Matriarch Benezia, Suvi Anwar, Nakmor Drack, Vetra Nyx, Cora Harper, Matriarch Aethyta, Shiala

Additional Tags: Minor Character Death, Politics, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Original Characters

Summary: 55,000 years ago, the protheans won a Pyrrhic victory over the reapers. From the ashes of the Prothean Republic and the rusting hulks of the reapers, the ancient asari grew into a galaxy-spanning empire. Two people on opposite sides first meet during an abduction that threatens to upend the tenuous armistice between the Asari Empire and the Terminus Systems. Decades later, they face each other again as forced allies and unwitting political pawns when the galaxy’s three major factions collide.

Chapter 2: Sphere of Influence

55 Tevos 437 Forty years later, one of the last things Thaia had ever expected was to see Aria T’Loak and her most trusted lieutenant, Soraya T’Perro, again. On Omega. On friendly terms. With Thaia being assigned a job by Aria. And Thaia accepting it because she had no choice if she wanted to stay on Omega while waiting for the Omega-4 Relay to be cleared of sabotage from the human terrorist group, Cerberus. All she wanted to do was study it and continue her work with designing and building a prototype relay for the asari, yet here she was, about to be working for Aria T’Loak. “—and I can’t have you idling on my station,” Aria was saying while standing across from Thaia, the large operations table between them. A technical model of Omega’s structure slowly rotated above it, two sections near the mine highlighted, and a third highlighted section at the opposite end. “You’ll be pulling some guard duty.” Please not any of the clubs. Aria signaled to Soraya, who lifted a bag from the floor and set it on the table in front of Thaia. Then she unzipped it, revealing a full kit of low-profile body armor, clothing manufactured from ballistic cloth, and other sundries commandos on personal bodyguard details often used. “I had my people pick up your weapons. Your pistol is in the bag. Your other weapons and belongings are currently being moved to more secure and far better lodgings,” Soraya said, and then studied her for a moment. “Bit of a shithole you were living in.”

Read the rest of Chapter 2 on AO3

#mass effect #fanfiction #lexi t'perro #thaia kallistrate #parallax #kallipyro

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prokopetz · 11 months

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two questions:

1) when building out a ttrpg that you want to be rules-heavy, what actually is the process for designing such a game? Do you start with a rules-light core and then build outwards, or do you start with a system you already know works and modify it until it no longer resembles the original

2) do you have a policy around people using mechanical elements from the games you designed? I remember really liking Rotate Bird's way of approaching things but wanted to do something less random

In order:

That's a question whose answer is going to depend a great deal on what you're actually trying to accomplish – no game is rules heavy simply for the sake of being rules heavy, whatever certain titles' detractors might claim – and teasing out those particulars is an involved enough process to stray into design consulting territory. Unless I'm on a first-name basis with you, that ain't free!

Refer to the "Credits & Acknowledgements" page of the game or playtest draft in question – you should find a link to the relevant usage license. Usually it will be Creative Commons 4.0 Attribution license, unless I've borrowed material myself that requires different terms. I'm afraid I can't offer legal advice regarding how to comply with any particular license, but there are many excellent primers you can find online that go over the basics.

(Note that I'm assuming we're talking about verbatim copying of rules text here. Borrowing the idea of game mechanics typically requires no permission at all – though again, this is not legal advice.)

Any questions?

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #copyright

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averageartistamber · 2 months

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So, my thoughts on Side Order

Okay, so Side Order’s been out for a few days, so I may as well give out my thoughts on it. Obviously, this post is going to contain spoilers below as I go into more detail about my opinions and observations.

I’ve completed four runs so far (almost got five but failed near the end).

Overall, Side Order’s pretty good. It’s a lot of fun, a little rough in some areas, but worth the wait.

First, let’s talk about mechanics.

Splatoon’s gameplay works well with a rogue-lite gameplay loop, and it’ll easily keep you occupied for at least a couple of hours (Some folks have 100% completed it on release day, but for the average player I’d reckon maybe 15-20 hours?). The permanent upgrade system allows a degree of control over the difficulty (even if it can be a grind to unlock things).

The chip system is cool, especially later on when you’ve made some really goofy yet strong builds. The Pearl Drone is some of the most fun stuff we’ve seen in the series so far. Letting her be almost as overpowered in the gameplay as she is in the lore is just really funny.

One thing that I feel does bring it down though, is the lack of variety. After a few hours you do start to notice that there’s only about five different floor objectives, and there’s not that much in terms of enemy variety either (although later floors add a mechanic where Battering Lentos can carry other Jelletons around on their backs…Which is a thing. Definitely would have preferred a few new guys instead.)

As for the Jelletons…they’re…eh. They don’t really have the charm of the Octarians or Salmonids, but the devs seem to have intentionally singled out some of the worst aspects of those enemy rosters to design these dudes. With such a small bestiary, about half of them are annoying “screw those guys” (the flying sprinkler assholes and the Stinger But Even Worse dudes come to mind)…Which I’m not sure if that’s bad game design or really good game design honestly. They do their job as obstacles and video game enemies, and the designs are solid.

At least it’s not reskinned Octarians again.

There only really being five different bosses, with three in “rotation” (and one you only fight once), which honestly feels like a huge wasted opportunity. Would have been cool to have maybe a handful more options. Maybe even have an exclusive boss for each palette on Floor 20 where Eight has to fight a screwed-up version of whoever the palette represents. In this case Parallel Canon would be exclusive to Agent 4, and Marina would have a slightly buffed version of her fight, maybe with a different barrier mechanic to differentiate her from Overlorder.

And as always, the soundtrack absolutely slaps.

Not sure if I’m personally going to bother with 100% completion, since apparently the reward is a few secret lore files that I’ll probably find and read from the wiki or something.

Story, Lore and Characters

The story is serviceable, it’s pretty much what you’d expect from Splatoon’s storytelling at this point. There’s interesting stuff there which either isn’t explored in detail or is relegated to background lore files you can unlock and read. That being said, the lore we got is cool. Like, we all guessed that the Spire of Order was some kind of VR thing Marina made, and finding out she made it in order to heal victims of KamaboCo and restore the sanitised is both in-character and a very nice tying of ends from Octo Expansion.

I will say that if you haven’t played or are otherwise aware of the plot of Octo Expansion, some things might not make the most sense (ie. you’ll probably scratching your head over who the hell Acht is and why they’re neon green.) so it’s best experienced after reading or watching a video on the previous DLC to have the full context.

Thank Cod they didn’t make Marina the villain or have her be locked away for most of the game waiting to be rescued. Although she did get put under mind control, which I kinda expected…Seems to be at least one the Story Writer’s favourite trope at this point. Or just an odd choice of running gag. This story feels more character-focused than events and plot-focused, so not much really “happens”, but we get some substantial character interactions that make up for it.

The limited cast of characters works very well in the story’s favour. Adds to the weird lonely and isolated vibe of the Memverse. Pearl and Marina are great as usual, and there’s a surprising amount of scenes and dialogue for Pearlina shippers to lose their minds over. Acht/Dedf1sh is an effective straight man to all this, providing a foil to the other characters. The vibe of “Can we please talk about literally anything else” after the aggressive Pearlina banter is entertaining. It’s just really cool that the background musician characters are starting to get more relevance.

Cipher doesn’t do very much, but might have one of the best character designs in the franchise so far. It’s alright (I think the character uses It/It’s pronouns).

On the other hand, I personally think Order/Smollusk might be the weakest of the Splatoon big bads. They don’t really have the charisma and backstory intrigue of Octavio, the presence and build-up of Mr.Grizz (who to be fair had two a whole game prior to his stint as a villain) or the menace/“creep factor” of Commander Tartar.

In fact, Order kinda feels like a toned-down or Bowdlerised Tartar, as in which Order’s goal is similar and similarly horrifying, but they haven’t been getting away with it for god knows how long and you don’t ever see the result of their plans, (No ghastly Bad Ending cutscene of everyone getting their minds destroyed by the Memverse or anything), unless you count the thing they turned Marina into. I guess the whole Virtual Reality setting makes them feel like less of a threat? Maybe it’s just me.

And I dunno if this is just localisation weirdness, but did they HAVE to make his weakened form converse in Uwu-speak?

Although this seemingly isn’t what happens, I do quite enjoy the idea of Order/Smollusk slowly getting rehabilitated and redeemed as the gang hangs out with him (and kicks his ass) several times. Unfortunately, dude seems to be really clinging hard to the “Evil Overlord” shtick, which ultimately turns the character into a one-note laugh when we could’ve had a fun little arc.

One more thing about characters….

WHERE IN THE FRESHLY FRIED AND FILLETED FLIPPER-FLOPPER IS AGENT FOUR!?

The fact that they have a sort-of presence (being the Splattershot is explicitly called Agent Four’s Palette and not, like, Squidbeak Splatoon Palette, as well as the Parallel Canon boss) really seemed to be hinting at Agent Four making a physical appearance. Maybe it’s cut content? Maybe they’ll find their way into the Memverse in an update (like with Callie in 2’s Hero Mode)?

Them being the only Agent not to appear in Splatoon 3 just kinda sucks. Like, even Nintendo themselves seem to in on the joke with them being the un-favourite (see the “supposed to be a [BIG SHOT]” line from Pearl). But I really hope that one day Agent Four gets to be something that’s a bit more than a joke, y’know?

…So this ended up being way longer than I thought it would be. Might come back and maybe discuss some of the new lore a bit more, but that’s my thoughts about Side Order. I ended up really enjoying it, and I’m pretty excited to see if this leads to more experimental stuff with Splatoon going forwards. I’d give it a 7/10.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon side order #side order #side order spoilers #splatoon dlc #side order splatoon #yeah that's what I've got for now #ended up having way more to say then I thought

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goattypegirl · 11 months

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A lot of people aren’t fans of Plasma as an element. The secondary elements have very few references in the actual story of Bionicle, Plasma especially. Given its redundancy with Fire, it’s not hard to see why it was the most voted out element in this poll. I have a soft spot for it though, and not just because I have a story idea with a Toa of Plasma I’ve been rotating in my head for the better part of two years now… Anyway, I figured I’d take a go at coming up with a (metaphorical and literal) place for Plasma as an element so it's not just Fire+.

Su-Wahi is an expansive badland, inhospitable to most. Special care must be given when traveling; similar to Fire or Stone aligned regions, the heat is omnipresent, and water is scarce. Unique to Su-Wahi, however, is the radiation. Without preparations, spending too much time in the region will make travelers sick in a way normal medicine cannot cure. The most striking feature of Su-Wahi is the Sun. The massive light is embedded into the ceiling of the dome, similar to the Sun Holes of Metru Nui, but never dims.

Though much smaller and less impressive than any of the districts in Metru Nui, Su-Metru is the largest settlement in the region. The city is centered around its refineries and power plants, both literally and metaphorically. Six residential districts form a ring around the city, where the Matoran can live, relax, and sleep between their 6 hour shifts. These work days may be much shorter than what other Matoran are used to, but the work is dangerous, and mentally and physically taxing. The system was designed by the Turaga council to ensure that the plants and refineries were always staffed by well rested workers with clear heads. The central principle of Su-Metru is Responsibility, the synthesis of Duty and Unity. The knowledge that their negligence could lead to disaster weighs on the city's inhabitants constantly.

In the badlands of Su-Wahi, certain rare ores are mined and sent to the city, where they are processed, refined, and enriched, and then inserted into objects called cores. When power is applied to these cores, the enriched protodermis turns into ionized protodermis, which gives off tremendous amounts of heat. Inert cores are transported to reactors, where they are used to boil large amounts of water to spin turbines and create energy.

The most powerful cores are sent to the largest reactor in the city, the Kaita Engine. In the heart of the city, twin rings, multiple mio in circumference, accelerate ionized protodermis. The two beams are directed into a central chamber where they collide and produce staggering amounts of energy. Curiously, the walls of the central chamber seem to then absorb the energy. The exact nature and origin of the Kaita Engine is only known to the Turaga council. Being allowed to work at the Kaita Engine is considered a great honor, and an even greater responsibility, as it is widely believed that the absorbed energy provides power to Mata Nui himself. Long ago, a series of accidents caused the Kaita Engine to be temporarily turned off. To the horror of the Su-Metru inhabitants, the sun itself began to go out.

There are only a few settlements outside of Su-Metru, the majority of which are mining towns. In an obscure corner of the desert lies the Deep Vault, a massive construction patrolled by an especially surly group of Su-Matoran. Here, spent cores, radioactive waste, and other irradiated objects are contained deep underground. Giant stone spikes and walls cordon off the field, and massive signs warn off tresspasses, their messages repeated in Matoran, Skakdi, Vortixx, and Makuta. Nothing of value is buried here. This is not a place of honor.

While the ore used to create enriched protodermis is mined in Su-Wahi, the rare metals used to build cores and reactors are primarily imported from Earth and Iron aligned regions. The city also imports from Water and Ice regions for coolants for their reactors, and medicine that treats radiation sickness that is produced in the Green aligned regions is in high demand.

The primary export of Su-Metru are the enriched protodermis cores, the specialized containment cells used to store and shield them, and Su-Matoran operators. Ionized protodermis has a myriad of uses, but Su-Matorans refuse to sell powerful cores unless an engineer is also employed, to ensure they are used properly. Many cities and organizations have their own ionized protodermis reactors and employ Su-Matorans on a permanent basis to operate them. Other operators make regular trips to deliver fresh cores and transport spent ones back to Su-Wahi to be buried in the Deep Vault.

Given their dangerous cargo and important duty, traveling Su-Matoran are granted freedom of movement and are rarely accosted on their travels. Yes, that Su-Matoran could be carrying information from an enemy faction, but they could also be transporting radioactive material that could make everyone on your island sick if it gets into the ground water. Because of this, Su-Matoran are also employed as couriers and messengers. Traveling Su-Matoran need to be resourceful and prepared, and have more than a passing knowledge of first aid and medicine; some Su-Matoran choose to devote themselves to healing and become doctors. Species and elements of all types employ Su-Matoran as site managers due to their strict adherence to safety protocols, and though they have no special resistance to energized protodermis, and it has completely different properties than ionized protodermis, Su-Matoran are still the first ones contacted when it needs to be dealt with.

Su-Matoran are serious, no-nonsense types with very little tolerance for tomfoolery. The hotheaded, rash Ta-Matoran put them on edge, and more than one Le and Po-Matoran have found their playful mischief has made them an enemy for life, no matter how many times they say “it was just a prank, brother.” Su-Matoran get along with the stoic and mature Ga, Ko, and Onu-Matoran, but are still unlikely to fully trust them. It’s not that they don’t want to trust them, it’s that they can’t afford to. Matoran of Lightning are the most likely to make true friends with Su-Matoran. They can bond over the dangerous work and responsibilities they share, and the Vo-Matoran’s optimism tempers the Su-Matoran’s pessimism.

Becoming a Toa does not relieve their responsibilities, it just gives them new ones. Wielding elemental plasma is incredibly dangerous, and many have sworn off using their powers until they are trained by a more experienced Toa. Most Toa of Plasma join teams in pairs, one acting as a mentor to the other. Even experienced Toa prefer to work in teams with others of their element; they consider the redundancy a benefit and not a limitation. Of course, not all Toa of Plasma have the benefit of being trained by another of their kind…

Another notable inhabitant of Su-Wahi is the local Makuta. Su-Matoran are resistant to the high amount of background radiation, but Rahi are not. The radiation causes mutations both in individuals and across generations in a way different than what energized protodermis, Visorak venom, or a certain Vortixx’s Rhotuka can create. The process has fascinated the local Makuta, and though technically they are assigned to the broader region, they spend much of their time in the badlands. Unlike others of their kind, the Makuta is sympathetic to the Matoran. They've spent centuries studying the awful effects radiation has on the body, and have stationed multiple Rahkshi of Quick Healing across the city to provide care should an accident occur. In the most extreme cases, heavily injured Matoran are transported to the Makuta’s lab to be treated. Eccentric and single-minded, other Makuta have written them off as a non-issue. They even survived Teridax’s coup of the Brotherhood and later take over of the universe, making them one of the last few Makuta left on Spherus Magna.

#bionicle #my writing

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grox-empire · 4 months

Note

Sorry for bugging with questions again, but I was curious about two unrelated things about your daybreak grox fellows. I may or may not have gotten a tad inspired, I will say.

What is the typical naming scheme of grox? When looking up the three names I recalled off the top of my head, 2/3 were greek, and I was unsure if that was coincidence or intentional. Is there a limit of length or syllables within a name? Are surnames present? Code names? Are fodder grox addressed by name or by some form of serial code?

Is there a specific style to the the cybernetics that grox have? Are there any design taboos regarding those? Are limbs able to be designed to be plug-n-play, or are all artificial parts permanent?

Thank you for your time, and I do apologize if the paragraph worth of questions was a bit much. I just find the world you’ve created to be facinating, and want to learn more.

The whole greek naming thing was wholly unintentional. I mostly just choose Grox names based on what I feel fits them, And a lot of those names just so happened to be greek because I liked them. In earlier drafts I did attempt to stick to the scheme but ran out of names INCREDIBLY quickly, and also realized it made no sense. But there is in-universe reasoning for their names! A grox typically chooses their name themself (like in Epsilon's case) or it is chosen by their Progenitor(s) (In Altair's case.) Celeste is a special case... She's trans! She had another name (Which I can't say because 1. I would feel bad deadnaming her even though she is a fictional character and 2. It's a spoiler) but chose "Celeste" herself. A name is seen as a form of privilege, That unfortunately, Lower-class grox don't often get. Fodder grox are addressed by serial numbers, Whereas higher ranking grox do have serial numbers, but they are typically "cleaner" and addressed by name instead. Epsilon's full serial number is ZYG-NTL-ZV005-1568945-EX-540169-062T1R1661, Usually shortened to EX-540169 when he is being addressed. Decoded, This would mean: ZYG-NTL = Zygote Natal, The company that owns the nursery he was created in. ZV005 = Facility 005 on Zuvius-9. 1568945 = 1,568,945th Batch produced by Facility 005 EX = Expendable 540169 = His personal serial number and what he's most commonly reffered to as by higher-ups 062T1R1661 = Date of creation. Which can be further decoded as such: 0.62/1 | R1661 A.E (Born 62% of the way into third 1 of rotation 1661, After Erebus. Would put his birthday sometime in late june to mid july.) (This would make him a cancer and that is hilarious to me for reasons that only my friend group knows but that's besides the point) Grox have a fucked up date system i'm probably going to go into on another post.

No, Not really! Most artificial parts are permanent, Attached directly to the nervous system. Grox are a near perfect balance between biological and inorganic, If you were to dissect one you would see a near perfect entanglement of organs and mechanical bits. Even a young, seemingly fully organic grox kitten born with all parts intact would be biomechanical- Nanobots build their internal cybernetics as they're developing. Most fodder soldiers and other low-ranking grox have fairly unspecialized cybernetics, While higher ones will often have ones made for practical (Like Altair's arm, Which (I don't convey this very well) has a hand that is able to be swapped out for a gun) or purely decorative purposes (like the gold-colored claws seen on Gula). The style of a grox's cybernetics depends largely on the manufacturer and planet they live on. Rather predictably, As a result, Grox culture is focused heavily on body modification. There are huge underground markets where even fodder soldiers are able to get some, But these are often seized. The sunrise rebellion has all of these restrictions lifted, They tend to paint or modify their cybernetics as a form of protest. One final tidbit: Both a mostly organic, intact grox with only internal cybernetics and chestplate and a grox that has had their body almost wholly replaced by cybernetics are seen as being of high status.

Not need to be sorry for these questions! I love answering them :)

#Grox answers #spore #spore 2008 #worldbuilding #daybreak tag

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olet-lucernam · 1 month

Text

A Hollow Promise [24] chapter vi, part i

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.

recommended listening : all the good girls go to hell, billie eilish

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60 weeks and 1 day out

Astrid hated the Gallery.

The climate-controlled villa was a reprieve from the dense, nocturnal marine humidity of Madripoor. The side-gate and front door had quietly unlocked for her, sweat wicking from the bridge of her nose and nape of her neck as she stepped over the threshold and into the chilled air, navigating the quiet hallways with experienced familiarity.

Even years later, something about the place still grated on her- quietly gathering under her skin and congealing into a twitch of her fingers and the urge to break something.

Astrid swallowed it down. Her greed would make room to tolerate it- devouring anything that fed it.

Once she had something to aim for, everything else was secondary.

The hardened soles of her boots tapped against the charcoal tile. Drifting with slow, rotating steps as she typed on her phone, hammering out another forum post, Astrid felt the quiet of the empty hall press in against her as she waited.

The main hall was dimly lit. Partitioned by dozens of tall glass display cases forming corridors across the floor, each box was floodlit with LED frames of clean white light, suspending their wares in the darkness.

Despite the museum-grade display- at a quick glance, Astrid estimated that she was standing in the midst of a few hundred million USD- the exhibition resembled a nightclub more than a showroom. A fully stocked bar was built out from the far wall, bottles and liquors set aglow on shelves against butterscotch-golden lights, a state-of-the-art sound system installed overhead, the glass in the cases designed to withstand the heavy bass of EDM. From her visits to the Gallery during opening hours, Astrid had the impression that most of its clientele treated it as just another venue of entertainment; like a clear-topped shark aquarium installed under a dancefloor, or blood sports hosted in basement rooms, or experimental party drugs in candy bowls, the Gallery’s gimmick was the ability to order your next drink with a side of illicitly traded artwork.

It was empty for tonight.

She sighed, stretching her neck, and hit the publish button, before tucking her phone away.

Astrid half-wished that she was in the Brass Monkey instead.

The bar was a hub, a bureau of exchange and centre of information. It was a foothold that she had chiselled herself into early on, through months of work and whoring out her services and placing the right information in the right place at the right time- eventually earning an off-menu drink at the Saloon with her namesake, doubling as a method to contact her, if ordered with the right code phrase. Astrid had become a product that would earn the Saloon money; conversely, the Saloon was a rich resource for Astrid to exploit.

But the modus operandi of this client had changed, precluding any meetings out in the open. Astrid had decided not to begrudge it- not when she intended to wring it for every advantage she could get, anyway.

A set of footsteps sounded from behind her, sharper than her own, the snap signalling a pair of classic high heels.

Astrid turned her head to greet them, her body following its turn like a fouetté.

The woman breezing towards her was tall, slender, serene as lilies and polished to an edge. While they were both dressed in monochrome black, Astrid was dressed for the streets, light enough for the heat and sturdy enough for a fight- slim-fit jeans, a cotton camisole, leather jacket, and a scuffed steel-capped boots designed for wildland firefighters, her platinum hair wrapped up and secured with a few steel pins. By direct contrast, her client’s willowy frame was draped in a pair of gauzy palazzo trousers and a sleeveless blouse, capped off with a pair of iconic, red-soled Louboutins. A triple-row of diamond studs glinted in her earlobes, sharp against her dark, cool-toned skin, fine black tresses gathered up into a sleek chignon.

The dirt from clawing her way up from the streets had long been scrubbed from beneath her French-tip fingernails, buffed out and resolved into political-socialite glamour.

Astrid did not like the Gallery, but she did like Ophelia Sarkissian- redoubtable social-climbing bitch in Prada that she was.

Although they really should have another conversation on how designer label was not synonymous with prestige or quality. Ophelia owned a few too many Birkens to be respectable.

With a mostly genuine smile, Ophelia greeted her in a cloud of subtle perfume, sliding an arm around Astrid’s waist with nonchalant familiarity.

“Come on,” she said, “I know you hate this place.”

Astrid exhaled a laugh, noiseless and appreciative, letting herself be pulled along.

Their relationship may have been transactional, but they were still friendly. Astrid enjoyed Ophelia’s shamelessness; Ophelia liked Astrid’s casual confidence.

Ophelia steered her through to the private wing of the villa, away from the exhibition room. Beyond the show floor, the rooms became high-ceilinged and clad in clean white and golden oak; separated less by solid walls and more by tall glass-paned doors, it had the neutral gloss of a pied-à-terre or hotel suite, complete with brass clothing porters and florist-arranged vases. The décor was vacuous, flavourless as high-end vodka, but it was a little less obnoxious about it. The French doors were left ajar to the darkness of the gardens and outbursts of summer storms, and the cold pretence of domesticity, smooth as nail polish, tasted truer to Ophelia than the exhibition room.

The Gallery was not a business that she had founded. It was acquired, along with her crown- with Astrid as her kingmaker.

Without breaking stride, Ophelia led them through to a familiar sunken lounge. A full Western tea service had been arranged on the coffee table; Astrid immediately recognised the porcelain- trios of cups, saucers, and dessert plates in glazed white and vivid teal, the rims painted with dainty ivy-vine gold scrolling- as the Coalport set that she had authenticated for Ophelia as a personal favour, shortly after she had consolidated control over the Gallery. The silver, however, was new. Dramatically sculpted, faceted and delicately engraved, it was comprised of a tall kettle and stand, teapot, coffee server, creamer and sugar pot, imposing and imperious, complete with an etched mirror-polished tray, matching sets of filigree-wrought tongs, and gilded fruit forks.

Magpie.

She couldn’t be too snide. She knew where Ophelia’s compulsion to collect things came from, and it was far more sympathetic than her own idle materialism.

Ophelia pulled off her heels with a sigh, letting them clatter to the hardwood floor unceremoniously, padding over to one of dive-grey corner sofas.

“Tea or coffee?”

Taking a seat across from her, Astrid pulled each row of her laces slack, stepping on the backs of her heels to loosen the boots.

“Coffee. You’re not my only appointment.”

With a soft noise of approval, Ophelia reached for the tall server. She poured a clear, dark ribbon of espresso into one of the coffee cups- the strength of the brew turning Astrid’s stomach for a moment- before adding a few cubes of sugar and dousing it in milk, in a series of clean, efficient motions.

“Busy bee,” she commented, sliding the cup across to Astrid on its saucer. “You must be glad to be back.”

Astrid slipped her fingers into the delicate handle and lifted the coffee can to her lips, taking a sip, the bittersweet cooled latte melting across her tongue.

“No rest for the wicked.” She said, slanting into her seat and gazing into the silverware. “And I’ve been sitting still for long enough.”

She rarely drank coffee. It always seemed ungracious to refuse, though, when Ophelia specifically stocked a few roasts that didn’t leave her feeling nauseous and never commented on how her tastes turned it into a drinkable dessert- despite Ophelia being an insufferable connoisseur of blends and flavour profiles and brewing techniques.

On the other hand, Astrid had once eaten instant coffee grounds with a spoon.

Her father had caught her at the island counter- wrung out from exams and compressed study and a lack of sleep, running out of matcha powder at the last minute- and confiscated the jar, shoving her to bed with a cup of chamomile tea dosed with a sleeping spell.

That had been an undignified morning.

It was going to be a similar kind of hell-week, she suspected.

“Eighteen thirty-five, by the way,” Astrid remarked from over the rim of her cup.

Ophelia paused, leaning over to the cake stand, floral-scalloped tongs in hand.

“The coffee service,” she elucidated, setting her cup in its saucer with a gentle clink. “William Bateman and Daniel Ball. The tea service is from eighteen forty-three. Joseph and George Angell. All wrought solid English silver, gilded interiors, original chasing, no significant repairs. The forks are eighteen forty-nine, silver gilt, Aaron Hadfield. Good condition, similar era.”

After a moment, Ophelia settled back in her seat, the corner of her unpainted mouth ticking up.

Astrid shrugged.

“An apology. For taking such a long hiatus on short notice.”

Nose crinkling charmingly, Ophelia swung forward, setting a plate piled high with confections- vanilla madeleines, gloss-shelled pastel macarons, shard-like cardamom biscotti- on Astrid’s side of the table.

“You came to see me first,” she said, almost warmly, “no apology needed.”

Astrid smiled mildly, editing down her smirk.

As expected of the Power Broker.

Ophelia knew the power of information better than almost anyone else in the entire city, keeping the threads wrapped around her fingertips and effecting a shift with the slightest tense and twitch. It was why she had kept Astrid on side, all these years- and why she would have been watching for her return.

“How was your sojourn, anyway?” Ophelia asked, her expression just slightly too sharp, dipping a biscotti into her espresso. “Productive?”

Astrid skimmed the gilded rim of her coffee cup with a fingertip.

“Enlightening,” she conceded, soft as muslin, tilting her head. “Actually- I have a recommendation, based on what I observed while I was there. If you’re interested.”

“And what’ll it cost me?” Ophelia asked teasingly.

“Serious consideration,” Astrid replied evenly, “no more, no less.”

She sat up slightly, sobering.

“Well, now I’m worried. You rarely give out freebies unless you’re in a very good mood.” Ophelia cocked an eyebrow, lifting her demitasse cup in a half-toast. “Or if it’s going to benefit you somewhere down the line.”

“Hmn.”

Astrid denied nothing. Taking a pistachio macaron, she sat back in her seat, lifting her eyes to Ophelia with a steady blink.

“Cut ties with the serpent. That is my advice.”

Ophelia stilled, eyes fixed into nothing.

It was like watching a predator that had caught the scent of another predator.

“That,” she said, measured and calculating, “is a very lucrative investment.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Astrid took a bite of the macaron, the light, chewy honeycomb interior disintegrating in her mouth. “But smart investors tend sell their stock before the market crash.”

That gave Ophelia pause.

“Is it going to?” She asked shrewdly.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to make it crash?”

“Most likely not.”

“But you’ll profit off it.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Exhaling sharply, Ophelia flicked her head aside, breaking into a bright smile.

“I’ve missed this,” she admitted. “You always say what you mean.”

“And you never wonder why?”

“Please, I already know you’re self-interested, Thia. It’s why I like doing business with you. You say what you say to get what you want. I know that. And anyway- all I need to do is ask if you’re trying to screw me over.”

Astrid felt herself relax, slowly easing back into her seat.

She had almost forgotten what it was like, negotiating with someone who knew and acknowledged the conditions binding her, and played the game accordingly.

“Then are you going to ask?”

Ophelia’s expression slackened, exasperated.

“Are you going to screw me over?”

“No.” Astrid said simply, taking another draught of her latte. “The opposite.”

She hitched an eyebrow.

“Does this mean I’m going to be indebted to you?”

“You mean more indebted?”

Ophelia’s beautiful features hardened slightly.

“I hadn’t forgotten,” she said coolly.

Astrid smiled placatingly, clement as sunlight streaming through stained glass.

It hadn’t been a threat, or even a reminder, just a statement of fact.

“I know,” she said gently. “And haven’t I always made it worth your while, being indebted to me?”

Astrid watched her defensiveness unspool, slowly.

“You’ve been a dream come true,” Ophelia admitted. “Considering the things you want, and the things you have no interest in. You’re so fair that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe a guillotine.”

Astrid laughed aloud.

“And take that useful head of yours? Why would I do that? I gain nothing by destroying you, Ophie.”

So please don’t change that. It would inconvenience us both.

With a resigned press of her jaw, masquerading as a phantom smile, Ophelia shrugged.

“And I gain nothing by making an enemy of you,” she conceded on a faintly grudging exhale. “I would just prefer to know the price I’m due to repay.”

“Ah-huh.” Astrid fixed her with a piercing look, burning. “And whatever happened to being willing to take a risk? Or are you refusing your own counsel?”

Ophelia’s cheek twitched.

It was the exact phrasing that Ophelia had used, long ago, when she had asked Astrid to back her in her coup. Astrid had pointed out that she had far more to lose, in the event of failure, than she ever stood to gain in the event of success, and Ophelia had given her killer smile as she asked if such a thing would prevent the audacious Alethia from taking a gamble.

Ophelia melted into a pout.

“Give me a clue, Thia.”

Astrid twitched her shoulder, taking a drink of coffee.

“If you are the woman that I think you are, this won’t ruin you.”

“Is that flattery?”

“I don’t lie.”

“You don’t threaten either.” Ophelia acknowledged, setting aside her empty demitasse cup. “Alright. Say I’m open to the suggestion. How much will it cost me? Cutting ties?”

“Less than it would cost if you didn’t.” Astrid met her gaze. “There will be opportunities to recoup. Especially given your career ambitions.”

The corner of her eye twitched.

“And if I don’t cut ties?”

“I wouldn’t have to do anything to make it hurt.”

For a long moment, Ophelia simply looked at her.

“Well,” she mused casually, “I suppose they are bastards.”

And that was what Astrid liked about Ophelia. She was perfectly capable of doing good, when the contrary wasn’t sufficiently profitable.

It was why she would make for an excellent politician.

“I can vouch for that,” Astrid said. “Not that you require it, I’m sure.”

“I thought your problem was with the eagle?”

“I can hate two things at the same time.”

Ophelia snorted in amusement.

“You are a multitasker,” she teased.

“Mm. Speaking of which.” Astrid leaned forward to set her dessert plate aside. “I know that you probably found another authenticator while I was on leave, but- if you held anything back in the vault, I can take a look at them now.”

Ophelia’s brows lifted. “Oh? I thought I wasn’t your last appointment?”

“The others can wait.”

She smirked, reaching for her phone.

“Why, colour me touched.”

Before Astrid could make a reply, she was tapping out a summons to her team, sending it with a flourish of her thumb.

“We do have a few obscure ones- the kind with fewer experts who can verify them, so it’s been too great a risk to send them out until we were certain. But Fliss just kept sourcing them, and I just couldn’t say no, and I decided that when you got back, I could just- ah. Actually,” Ophelia looked up, “I haven’t said it yet, have I?”

“Hm?”

She smiled, the gesture lifting the corners of her eyes.

When the words left her mouth, Astrid realised that Ophelia was mostly sincere.

“Welcome back, Thia.”

After leaving the Gallery, Astrid returned to the penthouse lounge. With only the cool, ambient cast of a sea of glittering light beyond uncovered windows to see by, she took out a small notebook, and made an addition to her list.

New shoes.

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