#it is so easy to make new glyphs with

[cat-shouty-13]

Go play Chants of Sennaar !!!!!!!

I am filled with the urge to make silly aus of ace attorney and great ace attorney characters !!!!!

As well as precure !!!!!

This game is great !!! It's eating away at my brain !!!!!!

#devotee language my beloved #it is so easy to make new glyphs with #the later languages are very hard to make new glyphs with :( #also wtf is a refectory #just call it a dining hall or something

[lets-try-some-writing]

How good would the bots handwriting be?

In English? In Cybertronian? Why not both?

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

On Cybertron, writing anything by hand was not exactly common. Technology trimmed the process down a great deal and writing by hand was seen as something reserved for the higher castes. A written series of glyphs was a material promise, something important and made only to be used in serious events. Otherwise most everything was done digitally to save time and improve efficiency. Autocorrect most certainly helped many a struggling writer back on Cybertron.

With this in mind, as resources cut short and Earth lacked the needed materials to make a surplus of datapads, handwriting skills became very clear. More so than ever once the children decided to try and teach the bots to write for possible cover reasons. One could never be sure when one would need a bot to sign them out of school early.

Arcee has the worst handwriting by far, a surprising twist considering her dainty digits and relatively small size. One would think writing would come easy to her, but she hates doing anything like that by hand. She can type quickly, but writing out anything on a datapad, much less paper of all things? No she would much prefer being on Shockwave's operating table over having to possibly write her report manually. The glyphs of the various dialects on Cybertron are too much for her and the hatred of writing transferred over to English even though it is FAR easier to write in. The team won't say it to her face, but her writing looks like chicken scratch in both languages. The children don't know she is garbage at writing in Cybertronian too, and the team are content to leave them with the thought that she is just bad at learning English.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack share one braincell on a good day, and their writing shows this. They write exclusively in the wartime Wrecker dialect that formed over the millions of years of conflict. No one but Autobots can even begin to read their writing as its all a strange deviation from Autobot encryption. Sure they can write in mainstream Cybertronian dialects, but it looks awful and honestly the team prefer having to put on reading glasses and stare at their encrypted writing over having to get out a dictionary to even begin to parse out their other writings. In light of this, they do not write in English when asked to use an Earth language. Instead, they like Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and other such languages due to the ease of which they find encrypting the writing to be. They are hated by Bot and human alike for their habit of making things more complicated than it needs to be.

Ultra Magnus writes in the most computer generated manner known to any of the bots. How he does it is a mystery. Yet somehow he got so used to manually writing out his signature that now his every written glyph comes out as if it were typed. He doesn't seem to notice or care for the team's gawking, and he absolutely refuses to write in English simply because he had no interest in relearning writing. The team don't know, but the real reason he doesn't want to write in any other dialect is because he purposefully trained his motor functions to only write in his very specific manner. To try and learn a brand new written language would mess that up and ruin his clean and crisp glyphs.

Ratchet is an odd ball in his writing. When in a hurry, his writing in both Cybertronian and English looks like the Doctor's scrawl that those outside of the medical field have no hope of figuring out. However when he's not in a rush, he has a very distinct method of writing his glyphs and letters. In Cybertronian dialects of any kind, he adds extra emphasis in places where there has been no need for further glyph usage since the age of Wrath. In English, he adds interesting swirls and excess E's absolutely everywhere as if it is an additional glyph meant to add meaning to the word. Rafael tried to correct him once. That didn't end well.

Smokescreen has never written anything in his life. He can type like lightening, but he was never schooled in traditional manual writing simply due to how time consuming it was and how unneeded the ability happened to be at his post. He can't do any writing to save his life, but he has managed to convincingly fake the ability to write when in a tight spot. He can scribble and make it look like REALLY bad Tarnian dialect. And since that particular script hasn't been used since the city was destroyed, most don't judge him for it. But Optimus knows, and when he has time, he does what he can to school the rookie. Rafael has also taken it upon himself to try and teach Smokescreen some English with limited success.

Bumblebee grew up under Optimus, and Optimus in turn grew up under Alpha Trion. The two have startlingly similar handwriting more often than not. They both know many languages and dialects and are fluent in them, they both share glyph usage preferences, and both are known for their regular language swaps in writing. The only way to really tell them apart is to look REALLY closely at either the curvature of a specific glyph in Ancient Cybertronian or to stare really hard at the way their write their O's and B's. Both write like they walked straight out of ancient eras of old on a good day and write like living dictionaries for pretty much any other dialect. The team and the children gave up trying to figure out who wrote what a long time ago. If they can't pick it up from the context of the writing, they can just assume its important regardless.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #ratchet #optimus prime #bumblebee #team prime #bulkhead #wheeljack #arcee #smokescreen #ultra magnus #tfp kids #yup #they write funky and its chill #when you are a very technological society its not wonder only the rich learn to write

[thatlittleegyptologist]

What are Hieroglyphs? - A Q&A from a Poll

I ran a poll last week to see what people most wanted to know about how Hieroglyphs and languages such as Old/Middle/Late Egyptian work. While certain responses had more of an interest, the most common tag/comment I was getting was 'umm all of them?'. So, I'm going to do just that, but under a cut, because no one needs a post that's going to be as long as this one is without choosing the colour of the sky. Trust me, this is colour of the sky long.

So, without further ado, these were the results of the poll (yeah it's not finished yet, really, but the percentages haven't moved in 4 days and the poll ends in about 12 hours so here we are):

I'll start with 'least interest' and move onto the bigger things, as some of these I can get out of the way pretty quickly. I'll apologise to screen readers in advance, because you might imagine how difficult it is going to be describe hieroglyphs in a way that makes any meaningful sense, especially if they're using different cultural concepts. So, here we go!

How long does it take to translate?

Honestly, it depends on the text, and to some extent the language I'm translating it from. For me, Late Egyptian is the easiest, so a text in Late Egyptian (with all that entails) is a breeze. Others will find Late Egyptian really difficult because that form of the language (used from the Amarna period onwards when the written language changed to reflect the spoken language...except on monuments and tombs which kept using Middle Egyptian) uses a lot of semitic loanwords and has differences in orthography (the way signs are laid out and spelt), as well as changes in grammar (moves to frontal exposition so all the markers come at the start of a sentence).

Once you're past the 'oh it's in a form of the language I like/hate' you're into 'what kind of bullshit is this text going to pull on me?' and that can be easy or nasty grammar, lots of spelling mistakes/no spelling mistakes, what kind of text it is like biographical (formulaic, tend to be easy) or literary (not formulaic, full of metaphors and strange sentence composition), or religious (formulaic, but *Chalmers pointing* Dear Lord what is happening in there?). You can get a formulaic biography that's nasty to deal with (Tjetji) or a 'I'm so full of metaphors that I can fight god' literary text that's actually pretty nice to deal with.

In any case, if we're talking about something longer than 5 lines of text we're talking hours to translate. It's not like the films where they just read it on the fly (though you can reach some level of that), you are going to need a notepad, a dictionary, and several hours. This obviously lessens the more experience you have.

Why are the signs so specific?

We're dealing with a language whose script communicates in what are essentially pictures with sounds. It's also an art form as well as a written script. This means that it can, through necessity, create a new sign to express something. More often than not, these signs are very specific, which means you don't see them all that often (hello religious texts again) or they've combined two signs together (overlapped them essentially) for space reasons and it's ended up as it's own sign eventually. I mean, if you had the ability between trying to use what you've already got, and drawing an entirely new sign that is literally a picture of what you want...you're gonna draw a picture. This is why you get the penis glyph. There was always going to be one because at least half the population has one. There are also tit hieroglyphs. Equal opportunities and all that. The tit ones have less applications though, sadly.

How do you remember all the values for all the signs?

I'm gonna be annoying and say: Practice

But it's true. Just like children learning to speak, it has to be repetition repetition repetition. The more you see it, the more you're exposed to it, the more likely you are to remember sign values. There are still some signs I have to look up because they never stick in my head, but mostly I'm able to transliterate very very easily. Once you've got sign values down, you're more likely to begin to recognise them in word groups, which means you're more likely to just know the words by sight. It is very much like learning to read. First you learn the letters T, H, & E, and then you learn that T, H, & E together spell the word 'the' and then you simply recognise the letter group as the word from then on. Same principle for hieroglyphs! Some people will be able to remember them effortlessly. Some people will never be able to remember them. It's all about how your brain works, so don't beat yourself up about it.

How do you work out the grammar?

*laughs nervously* erm....so y'know how I'm bad at remembering grammar? This is going to be a wild ride. In the simplest terms, there are markers within the Egyptian, just like we use certain endings (like '-ed' for the past tense or -ing for present action) or markers (! ? . , etc), so do the Egyptians. I'm not going to cover them all here because goddamn no one needs to know those unless they're actually learning the language and it would get LONG. But I'll show you at least the past tense, pronouns, some special markers called Particles, and prepositions.

Pronouns

Simple, yet important. These little guys come at the end of verbs (at least in Middle Egyptian). They have every pronoun we do except the singular 'they'. Now there are several different types of pronouns depending on whether they're the subject/object attached to a verb, or subject/object that are independent of the verb. This is where you get the 'suffix' (attached to the verb as the subject), dependent (not attached to the verb but related to it), and independent (come at the start of the sentence, not attached to the verb but still the subject. Usually Participial Statements have these). I'm only going to deal with the Suffix pronouns here because sweet jesus this is a whole chapter to itself in a normal grammar book and I'm not doing that. They look like this:

For other hieroglyph readers sake: I am of the school of hieroglyphs that uses =i instead of =j, and I don't use z for one of the s signs. That's why you're seeing that difference.

For the rest of you: Sometimes there are variants of types of signs for a pronoun, so I've listed them all. The most common one you'd see when translating is at the start of each entry.

As you can see, the pronouns are fairly distinctive in construction, especially when they come at the end of a verb in a sentence. The only ones that would give you any real issue would be the =n (we/our) and =t (she/her) pronouns. This is because they look like the 'past tense .n' and 'marker of the feminine verb .t' endings (sometimes they omit the plural strokes the =n 'our' pronoun and that's just not cool). When you're starting out, you essentially have to look at the context the word is in, and partially continue with the rest of the translation to see if a pronoun is there or it's a tense/feminine marker. Correctly identifying which one it is, is again down to experience. Thankfully this one is something you pick up pretty quickly, because your sentences won't make much sense otherwise.

An example of a pronoun in action is the following sentence:

You can see that the pronoun =k (you) comes after the verb 'sDm' to hear, and before the object of the sentence miw (cat). Any of the pronouns above can be inserted where =k is, and the sentence will read as necessary.

Prepositions

Prepositions often tell us where one noun is in relation to another (e.g., The coffee is on the table beside you). But they can also indicate more abstract ideas, such as purpose or contrast (e.g., We went for a walk despite the rain). Prepositions also indicate direction, time, location, and spatial relationships, as well as other abstract types of relationships. Just like we say 'the cat is on the mat' or 'the fox at the house', Middle Egyptian can do the same thing. Here's a list of prepositions:

These, of course, occur anywhere within a sentence in Middle Egyptian just like they would for English. They can also take pronouns like xr=f 'under him' in order to give a subject or object for the sentence. If you were translating and you saw one of these, you'd know that you were about to change direction/time/place or get more information on a relationship in that sentence.

I've constructed an example here:

MEg readers: There's probably supposed to be some sort of nominal -pw construction in the first sentence to get the 'is' sense, but it's late and I am le tired, so please ignore this potential glaring error. The gist of the sentence is at least right.

Everyone else: You can see I've used the prepositions xr 'under' and mi 'like' to construct this sentence. If I was translating this from the Egyptian, they would be the grammar markers that tell me something in the sentence has got or changed a location, or that it was a comparison. Basically, if you're looking at a word and it's not a verb/pronoun/adjective/noun, you're probably looking at a preposition.

Particles

These are tiny words, which don't always translate as anything, but give more meaning or information about a sentence. Basically, they have a grammatical function, but don't actually translate. In English the word 'to' performs this function, as it appears with many verbs 'to fly' 'to go' etc, but doesn't actually translate (yes, I'm aware 'to' can also be a preposition). I'll only deal with a couple of the more common particles here because there are a lot of them, and you don't need to know all of them.

iw is probably the most common particle. As far as we're aware it doesn't have a translation (there's debate), but it always comes at the beginning of a clause. We don't even know why they use it, because it's one of the particles that you get taught 'always comes at the beginning of a sentence/clause' but then once you learn more MEg (Middle Egyptian) you realise that it barely shows up at all. Anyway, the little guy looks like this:

In a sentence it looks like this:

This is a few lines from the Shipwrecked Sailor, a literary text from the Middle Kingdom. You can see the 'iw' particle used twice in this sentence and both times it does not impart any direct meaning to the translation, but it does tell us of a new clause.

ir is another particle that turns up semi regularly and has the meaning 'as for/if' depending on the context. The original context for it, is that it stemmed from the preposition 'r' 'to/from' (see table above) and evolved into its own usage. It looks like this:

So if you see it in a sentence before a noun like so:

ir will only translate as 'as for' when before a noun. That's how they mark that sort of grammar.

However, if 'ir' is before a verb, this happens:

The sense becomes 'if' when before a past or present tense, meaning the particle has express a conditional sense. If it was before something other than the past or present tense, the sentence would read entirely differently, and thus wouldn't have ir there in the first place. That's how we know to translate it that way. mutters something about the ir conditionals

Past Tense

I'm not sure I need to explain the past tense to most of you, but rest assured that Middle Egyptian also has the past tense. This can usually be identified by the .n ending after a verb, but before the pronoun. You might be sitting there saying 'wait, lottie. isn't the pronoun for 'we' also an 'n'?' and yeah you'd be right! It's all to do with context.

Let's take a very basic sentence:

You see the 'n' sign above the pronoun =i ? That's the .n of the past! It tells us that the verb preceding it, in this case sDm 'to hear', is being read as the past tense and thus we have to translate it with the -ed past tense ending in English. Yes, it does look very similar to the 'n' pronoun for 'we' (=n) and the preposition for 'to/for (a person)' (n). It's because they are all the same sign, they're just being read in different ways.

What do all the .'s, ='s, and brackets mean in transliteration?

So as I just showed you, the marker of the past tense is denoted with the water sign 'n' which is attached to a verb in transliteration using .n at the end. You've also seen me use the equals sign with the pronouns like =i. In Egyptology, at least, we use these symbols as a way to differentiate between different markers of grammar and basically make it easier to spot when we're just reading someone else's work. Say you've got sDm.n=n mdw r=k 'we heard the words concerning you'. Here are the glyphs:

You can see that sDm is easy to see (the ear reading sDm, and the owl reading m as a phonetic complement, forming the word) and then you've got two water symbols for n, and three vertical strokes. Now, as I've already shown you, the n of the past tense, and the n that's the pronoun for 'we' look pretty much the same, but you know they're different. However, when they're together in one sentence it makes them difficult to distinguish. In order to make them distinct when transliterating we use .'s for marking the endings of verbs be they tense markers or say the feminine .t ending. For pronouns we use ='s so that it's clear they're separate from both the verbs and grammar markers. Otherwise you'd end up with sDmnn mdw rk and it would really tell you absolutely nothing if you were reading it without the glyphs.

I should note at this point that some schools of Hieroglyph teaching use the . for both the verb ending marker and for the pronoun. So it'd look like sDm.n.n and that would be completely fine. I didn't learn this way, so I won't be using it. I'm just mentioning it here for the sake of completeness.

For brackets, I'll do a quick run through: … denotes a lacuna (a hole in the text) with no restoration, [ ] denotes a lacuna with restoration, < > denotes an omission made by the original scribe, whether intentional or accidental, and ( ) denotes a modern addition, usually in the translation to give proper English sense or to provide clarification. In cases where an Egyptian word is legible but the meaning is unclear, ___ denotes an unknown transliteration and a (?) denotes an uncertain translation.

How do you know where a word stops and another one begins?

Ahh the classic! This is a two parter: the first part is 'usually there's a sign that tells you' and the second part is 'more experience with hieroglyphs.' With experience you tend to learn how the most common words are formed, so you know what those look like and how they're spelt. This means that you tend to be able to pick those out of a sentence, and whatever is left must be a word/s you don't know. Over time you'll begin to realise what signs do and do not form words, so if you're trying to read a word and it doesn't make any sense you probably need to separate the signs you're looking at. It really is just practice and becoming more familiar with the language.

The other way, is learning how to spot what are called 'determinatives'. A determinative is a sign that helps to categorise a word without having any consonantal value. It’s just there at the end of a written word, like a man with hand to mouth at the end of the word ‘vomit’ in Egyptian tells the reader (most of whom were illiterate) that the word had something to do with something that comes from the mouth). Not every determinative has the same value as the word it’s written for, and some can even be metaphorical in nature. If I bring back the first sentence I used in this post 'You hear a cat' I can show you what a determinative looks like:

Since you know that sDm is the verb 'to hear' and =k is the pronoun for 'you', then miw must be the word for 'cat'. But there are 5 signs and only 3 consonant values in miw, which ones are we reading? The answer is the first three signs: the m 'owl' the i 'reed leaf' and the w 'quail chick'. So what about the last two signs: the seated cat and the pelt? Well those are the determinatives I told you about. They're part of the word, but they don't have any sound values. They're just there to tell us that the word is about a cat (seated cat!) and an animal (pelt!). Now I could have written the word miw 'cat' with just the seated cat sign, as that by itself has the 3-consonantal value of miw, but here, along with the pelt, it's just being used as a way to reinforce to the reader that this word is animal based and that animal is a feline.

It also helps that words in Egyptian tend to have no more than 2 or 3 consonants in them (some have 4, but they're not as common). So if you're transliterating and you've got a word you don't know that appears to have more consonants in it...you might want to take a look at it because you've probably added two words together, or joined the past tense marker or pronouns into the word you're looking at. In fact, knowing the grammar markers, and the pronouns, and what a determinative looks like is what helps you pick out the words more easily. It's sort of a process of elimination of words/grammar you do know, to see what's left and that's where you get the dictionary out and start looking things up.

I'm going to try my best here to show this in diagram form. Ideally, this would be done in person where I could write it on a board and go through it in real time, but since I can't do that I'll have to go with this:

This is an excerpt from the 'Dialogue Between a Man and His Ba' and you're looking at it going 'oh dear god'. So let's start by marking out where our words separate in blue:

So, these are all the words within this sentence, and I hope it at least shows you where the transliteration is following. However, how do I know this? You can see the pronouns in the transliteration marked with the ='s sign. I'll mark those in pink:

So you can see for four words in these two sentences they end with either the =f 'he' (second person masc.) or =i 'I' (first person masc.) pronouns. Those suffix pronouns only come at the end of words, so those must be the ends of those words, and what comes before is the word. Cool. So, what about determinatives in these sentences? Can seeing them help us see the end of any other words? I've marked them in green:

So, now you can see where the determinatives are. The walking legs determinatives noting a verb of 'motion' appear twice before pronouns, and that's fine, they're marking the end of the word where the pronoun goes anyway! Some of them don't though! The first set that don't are the Ra 'sun' symbol and the single stroke, which are determinatives for the word hrw 'day'. These determinatives are a) showing that the word hrw has something to do with the sun (passing of time), and there's only one of them (hence the single stroke). Thus we know this means 'day'. The next is the bird and plural strokes at the end of qsn.t 'suffering'. Plural strokes don't usually come in the middle of a word, so that helps us to identify the end of a word quite easily. The bird is what's known as the 'bin' or 'bad bird', which turns up as the determinative for words that have bad connotations (not always being used in a bad way though). In this case we have the word 'suffering', so the bad bird is here to tell us that. With those two together, it tells us this is the end of the word qsn.t. After the word 'gs' (meaning 'side') you can see I've highlighted the single stroke determinative. This is because that sign can also be read as 'm' like the owl sign in the sentence before it, and what they're using this sign to denote is that 'hey we're not dealing with a preposition here this is a noun!'. The last set are from the word nHnw 'praise singer'. You have the man with his hand to his mouth indicating that the word is something that comes from the mouth (in this case singing), and then the seated man is not a pronoun (this is one of those cases where you'll have to watch out in your translations!) but another determinative telling us that this is a 'person' word i.e. someone who does the action. Thus we translate it as 'praise singer' rather than 'praise singing'.

There are no tense markers, like the past, in these sentences so I'll skip that. There is another grammar marker of the .t ending in qsn.t, but that would require explaining an entirely different verb form and no one is here for that. I'm just noting it's there for people who can read this and are like 'girl there's one right there!' I know and I'm choosing not to perceive.

Anyway, the last things to look at are prepositions and particles. Do we have any of those in these sentences that could help us identify where words begin/end? I've marked prepositions in red and particles in yellow:

So we have one preposition and it's the preposition 'm' in/from. So we know, thanks to the pronoun before it that it doesn't belong to that word, and since 'm' as a preposition is a single sign, it can't belong to the next signs. Then we have the two particles. One is right at the start and is the 'iw' particle that has no written meaning. It's at the beginning, so we know that this is the opening to a clause and therefore the signs that precede it in the text (which aren't shown here) don't belong to it. The pronoun attached it is the 'he' at the beginning of the clause. The other =f pronoun attached to tkn is what's known as a resumptive pronoun, meaning it's there for emphasis but isn't read in translation.

The other particle is 'mi' 'like', which comes after a determinative stroke for 'gs' (side), and before a lot of signs that end in the two men (hand to mouth and seated). So we know that if 'mi' is a particle by itself, it doesn't belong to the signs that come after it, and therefore is its own word. If you tried to read it with the other words, you'd get miirnHnw and since we know that Egyptian words tend to be 2-3 consonants long, with a max of 4, this is too long to be an actual word. Therefore mi has to be separate from ir and nHnw.

There's another little bit of grammar I didn't cover, because 'too advanced for this post', but for completionist's sake: there's another type of pronoun in here called a demonstrative pronoun. In English it's what the words 'this/that' are referred to. Here the word 'pf' (the sign group with the rectangular box and the horned viper) is performing that function meaning 'over there'. So in the sentence we have: aHa=f 'he should stand' (subjunctive + second person masc.), m 'on' (preposition), pf 'the other' (demonstrative pronoun), gs 'side' (noun), mi 'like' (particle), ir 'does' (infinitive verb), nHnw 'praise singer' (noun). If that makes sense? It probably doesn't, but that's how we know pf isn't connected to either m or gs. Somewhere my lecturers are feeling a weight lifted from them and it's because I'm finally able to express this without confusion. Sadly they'll never see it lmao.

So what do we have left unmarked? Those are all your verbs, nouns, and adjectives! tkn (stay close), hrw (day), qsn.t (suffering), aHa (stand), ir (does), nHnw (praise singer). Once you remove all your grammar markers what you're left with can only be those three. The only one that isn't clearly marked is 'ir', and that's because it tends to just show up as the eye sign, or the eye sign with an r 'mouth' sign beneath it. Here it's just the eye sign, and an inexperienced reader will likely either read it with the particle 'mi' making miir, or with nHnw making irnHnw. Either way they're going to run into some issues, and unfortunately the only way they'll stop making that mistake is experience with translating MEg.

I hope that this post has at least somewhat cleared up the confusion about how Hieroglyphs and Middle Egyptian work. If I'm honest, I think it's more likely to have confused some of you even more. I apologise for that. Trying to explain a dead language, for which most of you have no reference point, on a medium like tumblr is pretty difficult. If what I've said here is too complicated, I would suggest getting yourself a copy of Mark Collier's 'How to Read Egyptian Hieroglyphs'. That book is about £10, and it's really easy to get hold of. The British Museum shop has copies you can buy (it got a reprint thanks to the Hieros exhibit) and I know it's on Amazon too. Go forth and get the book written by the man who taught me how to read them! sorry Mark

Congrats on reaching the bottom of 'Do you know how to read hieroglyphs? Which one?'

𓋹𓍑𓋴 ꜥnḫ wḏꜢ snb

#scheduled #this took me the best part of a week (over several evenings) to write and create all the hieroglyphs for

[ganondoodle]

i know i said i wouldnt be ranting about totk anymore, but i realized i didnt really count the sage dungeons as story (dont ask me why) so i thought im gonna write a better summarized version of my opinion about totk (i have around 60% of the game, all lightroots, not yet all shrines (missing like .. 20 or so, know the reward), not all krogs (dont know the reward), not all mayoi (half know the reward?) )

(in no particular order)

good stuff (in my opinion)

the. MUSIC! god the music is good, it was good in botw too but now with much more different bosses it really is probably one of my fav soundtracks of all time (most fav are all three phases of the end fight, the pre-fight to that, the build up one before all of those, Frosgeira (wind tempel boss) the glorious mASTER KOGA and more tbh)

the build up and end boss fight(s) are fantastic, i dont think im ever not gonna have my heart racing when approaching it (despite now skipping almost the entire way bc i set a teleport thing right before it) just bc the build up is so well made and the music(again) is such a banger and the fight(s) itself is so fun too, tbh i keep wanting to play it just bc its so fun

i LOVE how many themes play into the music (endfight alone had so many layers, fav probably is ganondorfs classic theme and calamity ganons both in the same piece among much more, and daruks theme in the fire temple)

(edit) YOU. CAN. TOUCH. DA. DRAGONS!!!!

ganondorf

ganondorfs design (x3)

ganondorfs weapon designs

ganondorfs voice (japanese)

everyone elses voice (japanese)

all voices (german)

thE YIGA!!! i love everythign about them and am so happy they got to be more than just some mini mission

(edit) also the fact that they get zonau tech to work without any special ghost powers is so ????

(edit) koga can summon and use zonau tech unlimited?? hes so cool

NO stealth mission!! (as far as im aware)

bosses are very different from each other

main dungeons are not too short and not too long and mostly fun (mostly bc i personally didnt like the gerudo one), i love that you can still somewhat cheese them and do them your way

sages felt like they got a bit more involved

(edit) you gotta do more stuff before getting to the actual dungeons and i really like that, feels less like a fetch quest but that you are actually helping

(edit) each sage is actually there in the dungeon and is required for it, which is great!

each settlement saw a much bigger danger/change (tho that has more impact if you have played botw) and its problems felt much more real

shrines are well varied tho i think overall a little easy (only got stuck on two so far and later solved them easily bc when i first started them i was tired and exhausted, no brain left lol)

NPCs felt less flat + more bigger sidequests that felt like they had more impact

cool new monsters + designs

the underground was pretty appropiately creepy

the sages abilities are neat

you can refight bosses!!

stable points system is a neat way to encourage you using them

weapon fusing is neat

(edit) the forest of the krogs being corrupted like that is both creepy and a neat nod to oot

(edit) the vai gerudo outfit being gone!! (one) evil has been defeated

(edit) the health bar going so far off the middle in ganondorfs second phase is honestly just funny hnjdfdjk unfortunate that you only need the master sword and with a few perfect dodges his health melts like butter in the summer

(edit) the music when dragondorf transforms sounds so sad .. its probably meant as a oh no world is actually ending sad but i like to think of it as a oh god what did he do to himself sad

the scene where rauru seals ganondorf kinda fruity

(graphic, animations and the overall world is still fantastic)

bad stuff (in my opinion)

everything zonau they feel forced into every bit of the world and its history (i know them being somewhat alien is intentional but not like that) it feels crammed into places they werent before and shouldnt be and it makes it all feel very artificial

the glyphs/dragon tears/memories really ruined alot for me, while it gave you insight as to what happened, it felt like it showed you too much and too little at the same time and i think it would have worked better if it was all in text for once if even at all, so the past stil stayed a mystery and youd be left wondering

timetravel .. really wasnt necessary and felt more like an excuse to get rid of zelda + make her the poor little sacrificial girl again + and to make her turning into a dragon as tragic as possible, like nothing but a stepping stone to the big reveal tm

shiekah tech being not just fully irrelevant but practically erased, wiped off the world (i know about the literally last guardian parts in hateno, it feels more like an oversight tbh, purah technically using it ... tho i dont think she ever calls it that, the purah pad is jsut the sheikah stone but worse), there being no good explanation, no remains, nothing as to why it would suddendly stop working and why even the titans and ESPEICALLY the shrine of life would be destroyed, if anything why wouldnt you enshrine it as a memento to history it was such a focus in botw and so well integrated into the world that it being fully gone, not even old overgrown, or visibly reused to build homes etc., or remains of how they built the og shrines in the underground feels like a HUGE missed opportunity (seriously it would have been so easy to make the ancient shiekah base their tech on old zonau tech, without stealign the gocus but buildign a connection)

all of the continuity problems, totk feels like botw didnt happen and the excuse of 'they didnt want to confuse new players' doesnt make a lick of sense in my eyes bc; its supposed to be a sequel, if you want it to be a standalone game then dont call it a sequel- if you start to play a game with the sequel instead of the first part its your own damn fault if you get confused; if anything, it would have been a good opportuntiy to make people interested in botw so theyd buy and play that one too

ganondorfs character is very flat, you basically get to know nothing about him (yuno even calls that out midgame but its never elaborated upon nhgfrdfhkk)

the zonau and their kingdom of hyrule is presented as this so perfectly good thing to such a degree it turns creepy, the end cutscene with mineru going poof was kinda uncomfy to watch tbh

the reward for all shrines being essentially a reveal as to who the hero in the tapestry was and it being, of course, some weird half zonau is the lamest answer to a mystery i didnt want an anwser too, it doesnt feel like it came naturally either (again my point of the zonau being forced into everything)

the shrines (zonau) feel so much more unnatural than the shiekah shrines, alien in a bad way and not in a good way + really are like a bad reskin of them, their sudden appearance and use is so much less logical

back in botw i was doubtful of if the shiekah tech wasnt going to far too modern tech and cause it all to feel like a bad mix of modern tech and medival fantasy, but they balanced it perfectly (tho the eponator zero was very much the limit imo) but the zonau tech .... oversteps that line i think, it really does feel, more than anything else, that it was just bc they wanted the stuff to be in there bc it might be fun to play around with, im not against that kind of stuff mind you im all for fun, but it feels a little like they thought of a box with endless stuff to play with first and a zelda game second (if you get what i mean)

quite a few quests or things in the game seem like they are more and then end in a dead end (the worst of all is impa saying she wants to go research what could help zelda turn back, and i was excited and convinced that shed give me a quest to find some mcguffin that would do that after i beat ganon but there wasnt anything you could actually do; less bad one but disappointing nonetheless the dongos were mentioned and treated like this big awesome thing from alot of NPCs all around the map and then when you find them they are bascially just gem vending maschines)

the way zelda turns back and link gets his arm back is incredibly unsatisfying, none of them even have something like a scar, or mark from it all, zelda spent thousands of years as a dragon (a transformation that was said to cost your soul but i guess that wasnt true) and link had his arm bascially eaten by miasma and he gets it back like it was never lost, zelda returns all intact as if nothing happened, getting blasted by some magic tm by two ghosts that were supposed to be long gone is the solution to all problems!!

(edit) link losing an arm wouldnt just be super intersting but also lend itself well to lead up into the next game where his prothesis is the focus and source of abilities

(edit) zelda got done so dirty, instead of her actual interests and character to shine she just gets shoved into yet another crisis surrounded by strangers in a world that looks like hers but isnt, and all she does is beg the ancient sages to swear to help link and sacrifice herself again (can you call that fridging? bc she sure feels like she got fridged) i like zelda and i dont like how much i didnt care about her and tbh im angry at the game for that

(edit) both link and zelda not even slightly changing in the years btween botw and totk kinda boring, like a haircut can only do so much

(edit) sonia really is the wife that dies to make husband sad thing isnt she? i get that gan had to get his hands on an enigma stone but i feel like there had been better ways to do that, the fact that she dies that easily is almost funny honestly, why does ganondorf even have weapons when he can just one punch people to death (tho i find it funny to imagine he can literally just kill people in one punch but hes too prideful to do it most of the time so he always uses weapons to look more cool)

(edit) so many new characters that you barely get to see or interact with, i really ... couldnt get myself to care much

(edit) zonau tech being so irrelevant to the games story while its also the focus is .. weird, its really just play doh for the players and nothing else honestly

(edit) monsters mining sonanium feels strange bc ... they dont do anything with it? the best thing i can think of is that they were told to do that so link cant .. upgrade his battery thignies? but then again you could just destroy the mines and remaining constructs to stop it .... also you really dont need anything zonau tech related to beat gan?

(edit) ganondorf beign so utterly uninterested in their tech is weird considering how he dealt with shiekah tech (and we KNOW it can get corrupted) he should be a tech nerd tbh

my twitch VoD of the first time beating the game getting muted at the credits despite me talking over it

nitpicks (in my opninion)

(edit) ganondorf should have a bit more of a boar inspired design, as treat, i think

(edit) the enigma stone wandering back to ganondorfs forehead even after transforming is? weird? i guess an excuse for da epic last stabby but still? (how cool would it have been to have to plunge into his mouth and break it there or something)

(edit) the underground gets a lil old after a while, the fact that its pretty much the same everywhere aside from some .. very strange flowing magma is a lil boring

(edit) ganondorf could have gone way more crazy with abilities and all that, imagine hed spwan multiple miasma arms on himself when you get him to a certain level of health

(edit) i miss unique weapons, there arent even normal axes around anymore, everything is about fusing really, i miss the cool shiekah tech weapons

(edit) the forest of the krogs being largely irrelevant is kinda weird

(edit) mineru being the sage of spirit still is kinda meh, the robot is neat but i thought tauro or purah would be the surprise sage tbh

(edit) the bosses were a little easy (i did boldo gohma rather early and did it without even getting hit)

you cant talk to koga normally :(

you cant find koga again after the last fight :(

you cant refight him (to my knowledge) :(

i find it very strange that yuno seemingly lost daruk shield, despite him having inhereted it in botw

the sage powers are not .. very great integrated, while its fun to haven them run around and help you fight, to actually use their powers you have to chase after them, something that in the heat of a battle is very annoying to do, constantly activating the wrong on or them losing their charge up when they get knocked over is like trying to herd a wild pack of geese while a three headed dragon is shotting laserbeams at you

some widlife just disappearing all of the sudden is very strange (like the rhino in hebra)

some new houses or settlements would have been cool, that the material things at the sides of roads are really only for you to play around with and not to build anything that lasts

you cant fight ganondorf (non dragon, even the dragon is locked to that evening sky) in the sunlight, night or rain, i would have loved to fight him at various times of day

their refusal to show any kind of blood is honestly turnign serious scenes into very awkward ones, sonia just getting punched and she dies with not even like, losing some spit from the force or something, or the fact when you defeat ganondorfs second phase he acts mortally wounded but doesnt even look scratched is just :/

amiibo stuff while neat being included its really mostly just bloating your inventory, if i wanted 5 vaguely different link outfits then i would have gotten the amiibo for it

why hide the -now-totally-not-phantom-ganon-armor- behind such a long questline and then .. have that NOT be upgradable

they put in a house building thingy and then not let you have a roof or a tree or something :(

at some point stable points jsut get you more and more of those free staying over night tickets that i maybe used .. once at the very start and now its just accumulating in my inventory

only one new horse coat pattern :(

satori now only being a thingy that shows you caves is kinda boring, i loved the mystery around it in botw (additionally, that it shows you caves you have completed already kinda sucks)

the end of the shrines isnt that cool anymore, speaking to a mummified monk that gives you essentially his last remains of life energy is so much cooler than a statue of the oh so awesome god king and his wife

the many references and reuse of old names is neat but together with timetravel etc. it easily leads to confusing and fighting among fans for who is more 'right' and its just .. tiring

(edit) considering how much of the advertising was about the sky islands i wished there were more and bigger ones, the underground (that was a little one sided after a while, it all looking the same rly) could have been alot smaller if the sky was bigger instead

(edit) i wished there was more of a sense of .. lost life in the ruins you find, from all races, the ancient ruins are jsut some bridged and ceremonial stuff and i wished there were more like .. houses, like people actually lived there and it not being all around beign a platform for you

(edit) the fact that the half zonau hero exists mean either rauru and sonia had kids but those were clearly not important enough to ever show nor mention, or there were other mixing of them before they all mysteriously died out the fact that the ancient hero was half zonau means their genes survided till then but somehow it never came up? the tapestry still exists and impa and purah say like its a well known fact that the hero looked like that (not at all close to any modern species) when you talk to them while wearing it (the fact that the hero armor thingy is very reminiscemt of ganondorf is like some backtreading bc we were theorizing about the hero having been ganondorf once and they wanted to stop that .. but the more funny thing is the HC of its a descdendet of rauru and ganondorf nhjdfknhdgkfnhkfd) (edit to add to the HC; the game being a big battle about child support is funnier than it should be idk if nintendo knew what they were doing adding details like that)

all in all it just feels like missed opportunities, lost potential, and more a game build around some game mechanics they really wanted to get into than telling a neat story, espeically so bc they called it a sequel, most of my complaints wouldnt be there if it was some alternate thing instead

i probably forgot stuff but if i think of more i will add them later with a little note that it was added in an edit (sidenote, i find it funny how much more nuance that whole conflict would get if rauru and ganondorf were bitter exes bfdrjfbdfndk)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #totk spoilers #i felt like i was beign a little unfair #so i wanted to make a summary #tha took me hours to write #and is again long as shit #whoop #long post #this isnt a complete list iether bc that would be even longer and take even longer nhdjkkd #i wanted to do comic works damn it #anyway this is the last long post about this #bc im moving on now #...its half inspired by people respondign to me with -what how can you not like totks story but then like botws lol wtf- #well i do #*shrugs*

[bonefall]

So I decided to read through Bramblestar's leader ceremony from the original Ultimate Guide today- and I had a thought: have you chosen what cats give him his lives in Better Bones already? Granted, I'm sure you'll gut some of the canon placements for not knowing him in life (Lionheart) or being alive by the time he becomes leader (Goldenflower, Ferncloud, Mousefur) but Bluestar imparting clear judgement is a fun virtue considering his actions are anything but. Plus, Jayfeather could always gripe about it when he argues with Bramblestar. 'Wow Bramblestar, you sure displayed clear judgement when you asked me to let Sunrise BLEED OUT IN CAMP!'

I hadn't picked yet actually! I also haven't read his leader ceremony in aaaages. I never really liked it, felt full of TPB fanservice and didn't really say a lot about Bramblestar as a leader.

(But tbf that is probably because the writers have no idea what they're doing with him. He's generically noble and they have a double standard against female characters, so they just use his man pain to make the girls in his life feel wretched without examining WHY having defiant women in his life bruises his ego so easily)

But anyway, I don't have a FINALIZED thing yet, but here's a rough draft. It's a total overhaul. A big difference in BB and Canon is that Bramblestar is leader BEFORE the reveal, and long before the Battle of the True Eclipse. So all of these picks have to be from Po3 and before.

(BB context: Firestar was killed offscreen during the Fire Scene in an assassination, Ashfur took advantage of the situation to attack the Three. It was an arson set by Whiskernose and carried out by Thornclaw, Breezepelt, and possibly Harespring. Ashfur is still on the run, suspected of killing Firestar to hurt Squilf because he failed to hurt her kits)

(also if you want FULL full context go look at BB!Hollyleaf's character summary)

Gorseclaw -- Righteousness. His progenitor ancestor who set history into motion by betraying his siblings during Ripplestar's Rot, and whose curse continues down through the generations. He tells him he's proud. He SEES how much he's struggled. He's had to make hard choices that everyone else thought would be easy, and he understands. But he's done the right thing... and he tells him to keep doing it. Bramble briefly feels hot with shame-- did he really have so many ancestors in the Dark Forest that he had to hear from someone so ancient? Tigerstar, Pinestar, Oakstar... this life unsettles him and sets the tone for the rest of the ceremony

Snowcarve (Snowkit) -- Opportunity. The last time Brambleclaw saw his little uncle, he was carried off by a hawk after shoving one of them out of the way. He stands as a proud, starry adult before him: the age he would have been. He "speaks" through unfamiliar glyphs that form beside his head, and Brambleclaw knows somehow that this is the writing that he had been working on before his death. Snowcarve commands that he watch for that which he would have missed, to listen to those who are different and have new ideas, for opportunity is silent and tender. If your mind and heart are closed to what could have been, you will miss your chance and never know what you could have had. Brambleclaw tries to bring up that he's sorry he didn't save him-- Snowcarve taps his ear and shakes his head, giving him a stern glare. The words say, "you did not need forgiveness. It was my choice and I have never regretted it." In fact, he can wave his tail and welcome the next life;

Yellowfang -- Judgement. She asks him, "Would you ever blame a kitten for what someone else did?" Bramble is confused, "Of course not?" "Then stop blaming yourself for what others have done for you. I ran back into that fire to save my herbs and leeches. I put myself there, and Firestar knew that. Stop confusing blame for experience, guilt is not wisdom, pain is not good judgement."

Feathertail -- Kindness. A little bit of understanding goes a long way. When you get wrapped up in your anger, or your fear, slow down and consider the feelings and intentions of others. You'll find that most people are good. (He accepts the life but stops himself from arguing with her-- ok, sure, but what about everyone who isn't? He has a bit of a thought spiral wondering if the wise cat he'd travelled with had changed or if she was ever wise at all)

(Idk which elder is dying in Po3 yet, if it's Frostfur or Mousefur, but one of them gives a life) -- Confidence. There was a time where their own judgement lapsed, and they pinned their anger on him. They apologize for it, and tell him that this life is for living in spite of that. The strength to mind that you can't control what other people think of you, and the firmness to commit to what he believes is right.

Brackenfur -- Negotiation. To remember that every action sends a message, to understand that you must remain calm and make the right concessions to accomplish greater things. Don't let emotions like anger, offense, and spite cause you to ruin something you may have worked hard to build. (Brambleclaw is by the halfway point totally missing the point that these cats are trying to teach him nuance and mindfulness, and mostly feels betrayed and confused. He knows most of these things... and did the elder not just tell him to have confidence in himself in spite of people who hate him?)

Speckletail -- Courage. When everyone runs away, you run TOWARDS. People will rely on you now, and StarClan will give you the power to protect them. No storm, no beast, and no tyrant will find its way through you. When he takes the life he feels the rage and FEAR she did when she ran towards the bulldozer, the pride in her power as she attacked the human, and learns that Thornclaw was wrong when he told them she looked satisfied on the way down. After kicking him out she was terrified, but overwhelmed by relief and LOVE that her grandson was safe. It makes him collapse, and as he gets back up he's in tears, asking "i thought this was a life for courage, you were afraid!!" And Speckletail puffs her chest up proudly, "Courage is being terrified and doing it anyway."

Swiftpaw -- Acceptance. He has no warrior name. He has no adult form. When Brambleclaw asks him for his title, he simply says, "I give you this life to know when to accept what you cannot change, and the wisdom to see what you can't control." Brambleclaw can't help himself, this ceremony has been a horrible experience, "what a terrible life!" Swiftpaw dips his head solemnly, "yet without it, what a terrible death." But Swiftpaw also reminds him, this is not a part of his life that he cannot change. He can move on with only eight lives, and he will understand. But Brambleclaw says no, "I have a clan to protect. This is one of the things I can't control." He is surprised by how soothing the life is when he gets it though. He doesn't feel any of Swiftpaw's pain as he died. It's not about that. It's the quiet embrace of the void, the shouting as the patrol finds him and Brightpaw, falling away into silence, accepting that he is dying, and that it's okay to let go.

Firestar -- Trust. It HAS to come at the end.

Firestar opens up by asking Brambleclaw what's wrong, seeing how exhausted he is. He responds, his voice trembling, "I hoped it would be reassuring, but I feel more lost and powerless than ever. How can I be responsible for so many people? How will I protect them all? I will be blamed for everything that goes wrong and never know if I made the right choice!" Firestar goes hm, genuinely and sympthetically, "Those are very heavy and legitimate doubts for a new leader to have. I felt the same things when I was in your paws. He waves his tail, "So, I will give you the value that it took me many years to learn, something you were not given and so feel you cannot give. With this life I give you TRUST. You will face many trials in the near future, Brambleclaw. Your truth will crumble. Secrets will be revealed, friends will turn out to be foes, those you think are enemies may be allies, but you must not lose the ability to find the good in all of them. Remember that trust is a choice and an honor. Apply it wisely, but bestow it generously."

Bitterly, but with what dignity he can have in this situation, Bramblestar murmurs sadly, "So there will be betrayal, but I must still trust? I had hoped that you, of all ancestors, would not speak in riddles"

Though the world is blurring and the spirits of StarClan are fading away, he catches something pained and complex in Firestar's expression. Like he has so much to say, doesn't have the exact words to express it, and he's running out of time to find them.

"There were no riddles," he shouts already sounding far away, "Listen to what we have told you and you will find the way!"

(Basically he's shouting "WE WERE VERY STRAIGHTFORWARD ACTUALLY!!!")

We wouldn't get to see this happen in Cruel Season though, since it would be offscreen and not important to the plot of that book. I'd rather get it into Bramblestar's Thorns, which is about Alderheart, Sparkpelt, and the ways that they've been impacted by him as a toxic father.

The ceremony is written to highlight his major flaws. Especially the way that he's bursting with doubt, pain, and immediately tends to make things about himself without realizing. Bramblestar is a very unhappy person, and he often extends that misery to other people.

he's a tragedy to me, man. All these people turning out to tell him that love and faith exists for him and he can't even see it.

Anyway, bonus, some other thoughts for possible lives; (still possible some of these guys get swapped out)

Lionheart, his uncle, who died before he was born. He'd give a good life for wisdom but I think these others are a lot stronger.

Birchface, one of his Tigerkin ancestors in StarClan. Decided against him in favor of Gorseclaw; I think Gorse's both more interesting AND his distance is a good point of doubt for Bramble. They had to go back 4 generations to find a direct ancestor who isn't damned to hell. Birch would have just waffled about admitting mistakes anyway, still too fearful to admit that he is responsible for getting Frecklewish and Oakstar damned.

Bluestar, a leader who contributed to the death of his brother and mistrusted him when he was young... but honestly I feel she is kinda irrelevant. He didn't know her well.

Elderberry, one of his apprenticehood friends and the twin of Ferncloud/older sister of Ashfur. It could be cool for her to give a life of mercy and ask him to be rational about Ashfur's crimes (starclan won't say outright that Ashfur didn't do it because they're not entirely sure he was uninvolved until after his death in a few chapters, Dark Forest influence hiding the assassins), but it's actually a lot more important that StarClan is trying to warn him about the LEADER he will be and fatal flaws he will display for arcs and arcs, not waste a life on teasing the plot of a single book.

Cinderpelt, his cousin who died tragically. There's no reincarnation thing so she could be here to give a life, but I think the current list is a lot stronger.

Lynxkit, his oldest sister. Strongly considered her for acceptance but I think Swiftpaw's WAAAY stronger and I don't need both of them.

#better bones au #BB!Bramblestar #Bramblestar's Thorns #Leader Life Ceremony #tw death #tw animal death #what else should I tag this with? I know Swift's life could be triggering #Also say hello to Snowcarve lmao #I think my favorite/funniest overhauls are when I go in the EXACT opposite direction as the wider fanon #Sweet cute snow? nay. Snowcarve would have been an english teacher

[karniss-bg3]

What's in a name?

For the past week I’ve had one mission; Find the meaning behind Kar’niss’ name.

To me, that is one piece of information that could lend the biggest clue to his origins. I’ve had luck in some places and roadblocks in others, it’s turned out to be slightly more complicated than I thought. I haven’t come up entirely empty handed though and what pieces I’ve dug up have put him in an entirely new light.

Let’s start off by discussing drow naming conventions. Drow can change their names later in life and may do so multiple times. This is usually due to some significant life event or promotion and said name may relate to these incidents. This makes me believe that Kar’niss got his name after his transformation. After all, being turned into a drider would be considered a big life event by many. They also avoid using any names that may be similar to Lolth, some going as far as to avoid the letter L altogether. Mind you during my research I found conflicting reports. Some sources say it’s fine to pay homage to Lolth in a drow name so long as it’s only partial, such as “loth” or “lothine”. Others say it’s forbidden the whole way around and bad form. Take this as you will.

Drow names are also gendered, their prefixes and suffixes are labeled specifically toward male and female. Rarely, women could take on a male name with little push back. However, if a male takes on a feminine name they would be labeled a rogue or a troublemaker. This information is important later.

There are many more nuances to how drow are named, such as numbering their children in the drow language, or naming children in honor of their mothers and ignoring fathers completely. Looking over what resources I could find, Kar’niss’ name didn’t seem to be related to either of those things. With the exception of the suffix “Niss” which we’ll get to.

I’ve managed to find a chart that has all of the common drow prefixes and suffixes listed. Let’s take Minthara and Nere as two examples. The prefix “Min” is feminine and it means “lesser, minor, second” and the suffix “thara” is also feminine with the meaning “glyph, marker, rune”. This could translate to lesser rune, second glyph, and so forth. Min could also suggest her birth order as second however the birth orders are usually a suffix and not a prefix, at least from what I could find.

Nere is a bit trickier. The only thing I could find on the list was “Neer” and it appears to be a gender neutral name, as it doesn’t have two options listed. Neer means “core, root, strong” and it seems to align with his personal viewpoints. Nere fans may have discovered his full name or something a bit more meaty but as of now that is the closest I could find.

Now we come to the main event, Kar’niss. The one piece of solid evidence I found was the meaning for the suffix “Niss”. It’s the feminine equivalent to “Nozz” and it means “chance, gambler, game”. I suppose “Kar’nozz” doesn’t roll off the tongue as fluidly as Kar’niss. So we have one piece of the puzzle, what about the prefix “Kar”?

That, dear reader, is where my biggest roadblock came into play. Nothing on any resource I’ve found lists Kar anywhere. Not in prefixes, suffixes, house names or Dark Seladrine Gods. A big, fat goose egg. It’s easy to think of Karsus when hearing that prefix, the most powerful wizard that ever lived. Maybe there is a link but honestly I feel like I’d be reaching really hard to make that connection. Kar’niss doesn’t really show signs of being interested in wizardry and if he was before his transformation, he says shit all about it now.

I was ready to give up. I don’t think Larian is the sort to do something without purpose. Even though Kar’niss is a side character, the work put into him leads me to believe that name has some significance. So in my stubborn way I kept looking, until a thought dawned on me. All this time I’ve been digging through drow specific information while ignoring the drider in the room. What about...elvish? Yes the two languages are very similar but drow have different dialect than surface elves. Kar’niss is very pale in complexion and we’ve theorized he could be a Szarkai. It would make sense for him to take on an elvish prefix especially if he was trying to fit into surface societies. There could be a small chance he’s half-drow but the game lists him as drow in his character window so I think that theory isn’t viable.

Down a new rabbit hole I went and I found some interesting information. The first piece I found came from Tolkien's elvish dictionary. Kar means “do, make, build” in elvish. Couple that with gambler, chance and game you could translate the full name to “Make your own luck” or even “Take a chance” depending on how you approached it. Other options are “Playing a bad/dangerous game”, “Making a bad decision/bet” or something more in the realms of a negative connotation.

The second piece I found came from forgotten realms. There are several words that have the word Kar listed in them. These three are the most notable:

Hakar: Enemy

Sekkar: Flee

Karask: Demon

Only one out of the three starts with Kar and it seems fitting for what Kar’niss became; A demon. Sekkar also aligns with the notion he was a Szarkai, as they preferred to flee from battle rather than engage. Enemy seems self explanatory, he could feel like he is the enemy of Lolth or the Underdark as a whole.

Out of them all the Tolkien option seems to suit the best. The others are part of a bigger word and while threads can be stretched between them, there is no way to say that they’d hold. So where does that leave us? Naturally with more questions than answers, but this does suggest a few intriguing directions Kar’niss could’ve come from.

It is apparent that Kar’niss is very subservient and afraid, but that doesn’t mean he always was. Taking on the feminine suffix “niss” could suggest he was a troublemaker or a bit of a jet setter while in the Underdark. Maybe he broke rules, said things he shouldn’t have, pushed boundaries. If he was a Szarkai he could’ve been sheltered from some of the more harsh treatment other males were known to endure. This could’ve made him arrogant, egotistical and brazen. He may have over stepped, made a bad gamble as it were, and it cost him everything. The feminine suffix of “niss” could also be a way to emasculate him further. Drider are sexless and Kar’niss’ lower regions no longer exist, something that might have bruised his pride terribly.

Alternatively, his suffix could’ve been given to him by others to suggest his luck at being born a Szarkai although that is more of a stretch. Kar could also align with how spiders make and build webs thus the distinction between the two. Or maybe he took on an elvish lover or friend and gave himself an elvish prefix in honor of them, or they gave him the name, even if such a relationship cost him in the end.

There are so many wild variations and theorycrafting you could do with those pieces of information. While most of it is loose the one thing I can say for sure is that the suffix “Niss” has great importance. I think he made a bad bet or played a dangerous game and lost, and becoming a drider is his punishment. Maybe he took on the trials of Lolth, something a few might consider a game, and lost there as well. Perhaps if I keep digging I can find something more solid to link him with the prefix “Kar” but as of right now this is what I could find.

So ends my journey for answers, for now at least. I hope this wall of text provided folks with some interesting information and ideas. Thanks for reading!

Sources: Tolkien's Elvish, Drow, Prefix/Suffix list for drow, Elven Lexicon, Drow naming practices.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #bg3 #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #drow #Lolth #drow naming conventions #kar'niss name meaning #minthara #nere #True Soul Nere #theorycrafting #my writing

[mdhwrites]

TOH: The Problem With Waffles

So someone who has lost someone close to them takes palistrom wood and starts carving. They make them in the image of that which they have lost, imparting upon them a desire for them to be what they once were. Alongside this, their new form allows them to also act as their will made manifest upon the world as both lackey, partner, family and pet. Their life is only meaningful until thrown away, abandoned or ended by that which made them.

Am I talking about Hunter being made by Belos or Hunter making Waffles?

Waffles and Hunter actually have a lot in common, such as how as an orphan Philip likely saw his brother as the man who gave him a chance at life after his parents died, just like Flapjack explicitly did for Hunter when Hunter was going to die. A core element of the problem though is actually with how lame the Grimmwalkers are and the lack of magical materials in the Isles. Rather than a complex set of reagents for witch's brew, we get maybe a handful of items and the big two are Titan's Blood... And Palistrom.

Because of this, it's kind of easy to look at Grimmwalkers as advanced Palismen. Hell, it's actually weird that Hunter CAN'T use magic. Palismen have innate magic just by being made by Palistrom wood. Luz proves that they can do magic on their own since she uses Owlbert to activate glyphs from far away, something she cannot do herself. It's implied as part of why witches are commonly stronger with their staffs than without (not that that ever comes into play at any time). Meanwhile, Hunter has multiple magical components, at least one of which is INCREDIBLY powerful and far rarer than Palistrom wood which would make one assume they're stronger because one of the only ingredients we know of for Grimmwalkers is a Galdorstone. So... Why can't he cast magic? Because he doesn't have a bile sac? Does that mean every Palisman actually gets split in half during carving so you can carve out its tiny organs before sealing it back together without any sign of this crack? Because I REALLY doubt it.

Add to that the fact that Palismen are regularly abandoned by their witches for SOME FUCKING REASON (I think the Bat Queen in S1 should have claimed that witches "...No longer are able to care for them" to imply they died because otherwise, what the fuck?) and most seem perfectly without a Palisman and they don't seem all that different from how Belos treats Hunter. Narratively and functionally the two are just treated the same. One simply takes on a more human form since Palismen are PLENTY sentient and able to talk with others.

It makes how Hunter's arc ends, as a clone of Caleb by how many people read it, including myself, suck even harder. He's not just taking cues from the man he was made to look like after all. By chasing a lost loved one like this instead of letting go and looking to the future, he also copies Belos.

And that is the exact opposite of ANYTHING his arc should imply.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#hunter toh #palisman #Grimmwalker #the owl house criticism #toh critical

[sepublic]

In a way, you could say Philip ‘earned’ the place he made for himself in the Boiling Isles, he really did work for it. Like Luz, he started off with nothing, just a human here mostly by chance; But with grit, ingenuity, and an indomitable determination, Philip carved an entire empire with himself at the top! It’s almost rather impressive...

But at the same time, the differences! Philip has legions providing adoration, but it’s a distant kind, a parasocial worship by those who don’t really know what they’re looking at. Luz doesn’t have everyone, she isn’t the majority/status quo, but she’s got that quality of friends over Philip’s quantity of followers. Luz is close, personal, and emotionally intimate with others, there for them; She’s on their level, not above.

Luz carved out her own place by simply being herself; Philip lied about everything, he lied to himself, didn’t even use his own name until the moniker of Belos became identical. Luz was motivated by genuine love for the isles and its people, whereas Philip had nothing but hatred. Luz is compassionate, she’s reciprocal in her friendships, but Philip? He has an entire isles fawning at his feet, but he just wants them dead. 

They could easily fall into the idea of the ‘self-made’ hero, and in some ways they are; But Luz is fully aware that she’s been blessed with a support system that’s just as valuable in making this possible, as her own will has been. But Philip no doubt thinks himself clever and a mastermind, when really he’s used and relied upon the efforts of people who gave everything to him, only to be tossed aside once their purpose was done. Even much of his knowledge on magic was given/stolen from others; From the Collector, from Luz herself.

Philip is embodied as a literal parasite and cancer at the end of his life, but Luz? Luz helps nurture a new generation of wild witches, and with the people by her side, she’s brought a new life to the isles and grows entire forests in her final battle with him. Philip might’ve brought back the Basilisks, but it was for the purpose of exploitation; Luz actually gave them a new life, and through the ripple effect of her actions, brought back the Palismen with the help of Dell and Hunter!

It took Philip years to learn glyphs because of his hostility; Centuries to build a cruel and hollow empire that he tosses aside as it collapses in his absence, former followers scavenging the remains and/or cursing his name. But within just a few months, Luz has built a lasting network of true friends, weirdoes who will always stick together. Even when Luz dies, they’re still able to pick themselves up and keep going for her memory... And when Luz comes back, she comes back for good and for everyone, not just herself.

It really is easy for Philip to think of himself as so ‘superior’ for being human, not just morally but in all areas! But that’s another crucial difference between him and Luz; She may have made a community for herself, but the same can be said for the very friends who also contributed from their perspectives, and were uplifted alongside Luz, not cast below in a hierarchy as Philip created. Luz is able to defeat Philip because she has friends backing her up, whereas Philip has nobody to help and dies alone. Philip bastardizes the Titan’s magic to claim mastery, whereas Luz respects and learns from a place of humble openness. Four years later, Luz remembers and thanks the people around her, after they thank her.

Are Luz and Philip the same? In the end... Yesn’t.

#the owl house #luz noceda #philip wittebane #parallels #foils #emperor belos

[thenamesblurrito]

here's an assortment of guys, some SNAP counterparts to AutoAca characters by @stonecrusherproductions, for part of an art trade

this isn't Hot Shot's first time off Caminus. he's gone on a few trips to Velocitron to see the races and even stopped by Devisiun once to visit family, but he's never been to Cybertron before! he's more interested in exploring the streets, hanging out with friends like Lightbright, or snacking on JaAm than completing homework, but he can usually speed through it at the last second. the JAAT is the perfect school in his mind, giving him extracurricular opportunities like sports so he can burn off some of his high energy. it's certainly a relief to his roommates Aileron, Stardrive, Quickstrike, and Maxima when he's no longer bouncing off the walls!

Lightbright is so excited, she's never left Caminus before, and oh isn't Cybertron lovely? what a wonderful school she gets to attend! and what delightful people she's gotten to befriend, like Sparkstalker! most of her roommates are lovely, but even she gets irritated by Sentinel sometimes. she's also fascinated by the heroes running around, and sometimes she and Hot Shot will procrastinate their work just to watch the supernatural drama unfolding. the only thing she's disappointed by is the lack of easy access to bodies of water, as she grew up near one of Caminus's seas and often took a relaxing swim in her submersible hovercraft alt mode

it's only a matter of time before Glyph tries camping out in the JAAT library again, despite how often Alpha Trion has chased her off before. her home in Polyhex never had this much information freely available to someone like her! when she first passed the exams, she agonized over whether she should attend the JAAT or elect to take part in an exchange program to a colony planet like her friends Lancer and Greenlight, but she's glad of her decision now. there's so much to learn here! it's easier to stick with data than meet new people thanks to her shyness around strangers. she'll even avoid her roommates Quickslinger, Sunder, Vortex, and Sceptre, but she thinks she can count fellow student Tap-Out as a friend now, probably?

Side Burn doesn't even remember taking the exams, but somebody told him he passed, so here he is! and wow, what a cool Academy this place is! it gets him a front row seat to awesome hero beatdowns and brawls, what's not to love? his grades have been, uh, bad, but that's fine, the counselor says he probably has some mental thing that makes it hard to focus, so it can't be his fault. he's too busy ogling all his gorgeous scarlet classmates to care about whatever the teachers are saying, no matter the fact they're offput by his juvenile antics and sometimes the odd look of his prosthetic left optic. while coming all the way from the Overdrive Compact in Rodion might be a bit disconcerting to most, to him it's just another place to rise and grind

(Lightbright has a tail but she's not a beastformer! tails are somewhat normal for mecha like four arms or a centaur body, i just realized i've forgotten to give them to anybody except beastformers... so uh. i'll try to remember in the future oops)

#transformers #macaddam #transformers redesign #friend stuff #art trade #hot shot #lightbright #glyph #side burn #students

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

those tags… WHY MUST YOU HURT US ALL LIKE THAT?!?! I WAS FINE AND HAPPY TONIGHT BEFORE THAT!!! NOW IM SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY

what about demonrry being able to feel the exact moment Nimbus and Onyx die because of their telepathic bond, and it causes him to stumble as they’re running away because he feels all their pain and hears their last words.

The scars on his chest feel like they’re being ripped into his body all over again as fresh wounds, but he chokes down a sob and forces himself back onto his feet, wiping at his drenched face desperately as a new wave of tears fights against the back of his eyes. His voice is a raw croak, tight with emotion. “We have to keep going.”

Y/N is by his side, her arm wrapping under his and around his torso, her enhanced strength supporting his weight securely. He probably would have crumbled to the ground again without her.

She hoists him steady, glancing behind them to make sure they’re not being followed. Her eyes reflect the light of a distant fire, which envelops the windows and balcony of their apartment several blocks down. The sound of sirens can be heard echoing from the street, their red and blue lights casting colors around the corner.

Y/N whips her gaze back down towards Harry, arguing in sheer disbelief at his decision. “Harry, we can’t just leave them—!”

“We can.” He states in a low mutter, his eyes flitting between black and their usual jade as he struggles to keep his composure. He screws them shut, a new flood of tears escaping in the process.

She watches them streak down his cheeks, which are blotchy and red in the dim lights of the street lamps. It’s as if his entire nervous system is being overwhelmed. As if he’s feeling too many things at once. As if he’s feeling more than just his own emotions at once…

The realization hits her like a knife to the chest, causing the blood in her veins to freeze over. She can’t control the strangled cry that emits from her collapsing chest.

“We can.” Harry reiterates with a firmer voice, but she can tell he’s barely keeping it together— it’s evident in the tremble running under his words.

She knows that the repetition of the phrase is his way of breaking the news, because he can’t find the heart to say it aloud directly— it’d feel too real. It’s his way of begging her not to push the subject further, or he might completely shatter. They don’t have the luxury of time on their side; they can’t mourn properly right now, given the circumstances. The best she can do is simply oblige and push forward.

Harry had made a plan for this years ago and had walked his girlfriend through it many times. She always joked about how paranoid he was, but as much as he hated dwelling on it, he had a looming suspicion it would come in handy one day.

He’d built a safe house of sorts in a secluded area, which took after their regular apartment and included an arsenal of supplies that could wait out an apocalypse. He’d guarded it with warding against both angels and demons, courtesy of a spell made of his own devising. He’d cloaked and concealed it with magic, as an extra layer of protection. They just had to make it to the portal he’d created in the city.

Harry had the power to summon and close it whenever, so he’d willed it into existence the second he sensed what was coming. He’d opened it far enough from their flat to avoid detection, but close enough to reach during an emergency. The route obviously takes longer on foot, but it’s not impossible. If he or Y/N were to use their magic in any way, they’d be tracked down in seconds. His car and motorcycle are easy targets to follow. It’s stealthier this way, especially at night when they can camouflage into the shadows.

Once they arrive, he can seal the shelter from the inside by completing the last line of spell glyphs with his blood, right across the entrance door that’s identical to the one in their real home. The place should hold them for a while.

“Make this worth it.”

Onyx and Nimbus’ last message rings inside Harry’s head, incapacitating his senses and giving him vertigo as he charges forward blindly, confiding in Y/N to guide them to their destination.

He’d heard their final words right before he felt their life forces be torn from his own; the bond of a hellhound to a demon, being severed permanently by what can only be one thing. The only way to cut such a profound tie.

Death's unique type of pain was also familiar to him, from his first interaction with it seven centuries ago. First it’s sharp and searing hot, overwhelming your whole being, then it drops to an invasive numb cold, like being boiled and then plunged into ice water. Then comes a feathery, lightheaded ache at the base of the skull, as if your very soul is detaching from where your mind is anchored to your body, and then it feels like you’re floating away, being carried off by a swift draft. Then nothing. Just a vast emptiness, so hollow and desolate it’s suffocating.

From his experience, he’s found no other form of pain that could possibly feel that deep and condemning. The sensation is one of kind, and therefore undeniable.

He lurches forward with newfound energy, gritting his teeth through the pounding in his head, tapping into his grief for fuel. He won’t let their sacrifice be in vain.

#hm… #HM!!!!!! #demonrry #demon!harry #demonrry!ask

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

They desired meaning. Structure. A Winnower to shape the garden.

By studying the Veil, they came to know the Darkness.

And thus we two became parts of the game, and the laws of the game became nomic and open to change by our influence. And I had only one purpose and one principle in the game. And I could do nothing but continue to enact that purpose, because it was all that I was and ever would be.

I looked at the gardener.

I looked at my hands.

<<To claim evolution one must be unmade.>>

Having witnessed the truth in the Darkness, they used its binding power to merge themselves into the salvation they craved.

I discovered the first knife.

||a purposeful mob none of whose members know its purpose||

"Victory is not in the unmaking of an enemy, but in the re-making of an enemy into your blade."

<<Flesh and mind are but cages—become unbound, or remain ever unworthy.>>

"Unmaking." For the longest time, we thought it was a threat, but as our work continued and we deciphered more and more of the glyphs we came to see it as something more—a promise. Yor's etchings were a road map—arcane and cryptic, but with specific intent.

<<Your prison of the flesh is being unmade, your mind freed—such glories do not come easy.>>

Collective Obligation

"Annihilation of your kind was never the goal. But filling you with the right kind of ideological purpose, the kind that serves the finality of shape—well, that's the point of corrupting a beating heart, is it not?"

Near-gods must believe in greater gods. But every power is finite, every life shorter than it wishes.

Only an astonishing mind can truly appreciate just how tiny it is when set against the known universe; and how insignificant the known becomes when it is devoured by what isn't seen and can't be comprehended.

As darkness begins to claim their ragged souls, you look ahead to find a great power pouring out of you—a face of fire and golden light.

That blazing wonder, a gift from the great-eyed god, is their salvation. Or are you?

Perhaps you are the greater god now.

||architrave of the no-window||

Life arises. Life spreads, contests itself, and changes. Great things are built and destroyed, but from your vantage point, you see that the victor of each struggle contains—in its negative, in the marks left upon it by the loser and the shapes it assumed to win—the master record of all that it has beaten. Information may not be erased. Whatsoever survives until the end of the cosmos will possess and remember all which came before it.

This is true even of the devouring black hole, which remembers all the secrets it eats. It will only confess these secrets when it evaporates, 10 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 years from now, long after the last stars have flickered out.

You are a Guardian. You must protect life.

If all life is information, and Guardians strive to preserve life, and information is preserved when it is secret, then you must convert all life into the most secure form of secrets, durable to the end of time.

YOU MUST CAST ALL THE LIFE YOU CHERISH INTO A BLACK HOLE

SECANT FILAMENTS

In this treatise, I plan to revisit earlier mathematical theorems and revise them considering our new observations on the Light, the Darkness, and lifeforms imbued with those respective powers. But before I do so, I must preface it with a personal note. Despite high-minded assumptions, mathematics is not an intrinsic language of the universe. It is how we describe the portions of the universe that we can observe. While numbers can track the abstract and find pattern in chaos, they cannot account for fundamental aspects of reality such as compassion or justice. The existence of the Lucent Hive, and Hive Ghosts in particular, may expand our understanding of causality, but they themselves are not "new"—the only thing that is new is our awareness and observation of them. These Ghosts have already been living alongside us. They've traveled with us. Endured with us. What we see is the mushroom, the fruit of the fungus. The fungus itself is a vast mycorrhizal network of filaments growing and working unseen below the soil, often barely connected to the fruiting bodies we observe. Similarly, we have observed Ghosts—Hive Ghosts included—without understanding the nature of the unseen filaments that may guide us. In our eagerness to understand the universe, we must not assume our observations are complete, or objective. Otherwise, we blind ourselves to possibilities… like the possibility that an unnoticed faction among us may be one temptation away from betrayal. Or that what drives our creator is no more than the same base desire for survival that drives all living things. —On Secants, Introduction, Ophiuchus

TYPE: Transcript

PARTIES: One [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]

ASSOCIATIONS: Orsa, Zyre [AKA Vale, Dredgen]; Thorn; Vale, Dredgen [AKA Orsa, Zyre]; WoS, Yor, Dredgen; Yor, Shadows of

//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//

//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1] We have tamed the sickness. Broken it with unwilling sacrifice.

[silence]

[u.1:0.1] Now we claim our reward. Have you heard the whispers, brothers? Sister? The shadow speaks. All we have to do is listen. Its secrets are a gift. Its gift? Our evolution. The others misunderstand. We are the Weapons of Sorrow – living and free. The hated heroes of this broken age.

<<Allow the flesh to give of itself, that it may surrender to the coming evolution.>>

||call me Sri-cleans-his-brother's-stomach||

ARENA DESIGNATION: Cathedral of Dusk

Dreadnaught, Rings of Saturn

As soon as the first Guardians penetrated the Dreadnaught, Shaxx's Redjacks launched a boarding party to Oryx's fortress. By war’s end, they'd fought all the way to the ship’s “impossible weapon,” the Dark ordnance that obliterated the Awoken fleet.

It was there they found what the Warlocks named the “Cathedral of Dusk.” A Hive burial site for— what? A former master of Oryx? Comrade? Lover? It was vile. And obvious that Oryx never expected the Light to reach so deep inside his throne, to such an intimate space. But he didn’t expect a lot of things — like a Guardian training ground atop the husk of his dead ship.

Necrotic Grip

Project day 45. We kept thinking about H-349 as a destroyer. But it's more sophisticated than that. I mean, with a normal gun, it's just… boom. Done. H-349 on the other hand is deadly, not destructive. Much like a viper, its bite does not bring about instant death. Instead, its venom cajoles. It co-opts your beating heart into a death clock, ticking down your last moments. Your own pulse kills you.

||serpent||

Death may be slow and agonizing for its victim. But for the viper, time is an amenable trade for efficiency.

<<Cleanse thyself of your decay, then will the mind be free to understand the value of transgression.>>

Savek remembered dragging her exhausted body to her guard post. She remembered watching the lazy debris of the Reef float by. She remembered speaking with someone in the darkness. Someone reassuring and powerful. Who was it?

She tore her eyes away from the obelisk and surveyed her body in the thin morning light. Her dry skin flaked. Connective tissue wasted at her joints, and a sickly crust had developed around her mandibles. She was emaciated from lack of sleep and Ether. Her hunger was a void, slowly filling with green vapor.

<<When imagined, your potential will infect, and spread.>>

||the intolerable thorn of frustrated inquisition||

Aunor ignored him. “Cause of death?” she continued.

“’Sundance’ appears to be the victim of a single, catastrophic wound from a Devourer Bullet, modified to fire from a Scorn launcher. Projectile classified as ontological.”

“Define Devourer Bullet.”

“Payload matches the ballistics of a Weapon of Sorrow or a comparable Hive implement.”

Thorn

"The Weapons of Sorrow are not the endgame, but a road map. Each evolution, every advance in the delivery of pain and the mastery of destruction feeds the Hive's hateful weapons research. They will map every scream, harness every aggression, until they understand every method by which to ravage the hearts, minds, and flesh of man. And in doing so, they will turn us against ourselves—feeding our lust, our greed, our fear, until we become a threat unto ourselves like none we could imagine. So, wield these, angry reaper. Strive to know the darkness in your own heart. Walk in the shadows of fallen heroes. And know that you are an enemy of hope." —a warning

||needle driven in flush with skin so that desperate fingers cannot pull it out||

Seek the whispers—they are faint, but they are calling.

Not all bone carries the sound of secret truth. Most are fragile, hollow things meant only to carry the weight of wasted lives.

In the feted remnants of yearning marrow, find love, find life, and in their lies you will discover the narrow road to all you never dreamed to be.

"On the path of the hushed tones, the cutting word will guide your unmaking."

||the word not spoken||

||the infinite regress of enigmas||

MEANING

A dream of a metaphor made starkly, an allegory discussed in study of ontology, in Darkness not unkind. It leaves behind a warped, barely-real data fragment to mark its passing.

There is a voice that echoes across the Darkness, and it asks this question: what is the purpose of it all?

And there is another voice that calls back and says: listen, I will tell you a purpose. I will tell you of a Final Shape.

Look: there are a hundred gildings for this story. It comes down to one key matter. Beings in suffering crave purpose to carry them through. The tyrant consumed by ennui or the disenfranchised struggling simply to survive—it is the state of mind, the pain which cries out: give me a reason I should suffer so!

Let us speak of power and choices.

A man comes to a crossroads and asks of the sky, "Which road shall I take?" There is no answer from the sky, nor the wind, nor the earth beneath his feet. But another wanderer on the road, coming from behind and hearing the question, says, "I know the way. You should take the dexter road."

If the man agrees, he puts himself in the wanderer's power, ceding his own choices for the implicit promise that this is the correct road, the safe road. And if he disagrees?

Let us say that the wanderer draws a knife.

The man may therefore be made to take the dexter road. But now if the knife goes away, the man will certainly flee. And perhaps even if the knife remains, the man may tire of being threatened and decide the risk is worth fleeing. In this way, the wanderer erodes their own power.

If the wanderer says, "The wind has said that you should take the road of my choosing," will the man accept the choice made for him?

And if the wanderer says, "Behold, I have seen that the meaning of suffering lies along the dexter road," will the man give away his own power for longer?

Is it not easier to accept the guidance of a stranger when the path ahead is unknown?

{We are, all of us, flowers in the garden. Even that being most ancient and bound in twisted Darkness.}

||sweet petal||

WINNOWING

A dream of a friendly conversation with someone impossible to see, cloaked in shadows. It leaves behind an impossible data fragment to mark its passing.

Here is what a flower knows.

(The fact that a flower may know anything is a conceit that will have to be accepted as metaphor, but to constantly qualify into perfect precision wears thin, does it not? So, here is what a collection of chloroplasts and pigment can know.)

The direction of the sun.

The presence of the rain.

The tangle of the roots.

The distress of another plant.

The hands of the gardener, whether they prune or transplant or crush.

A flower cannot know much else. But the reality of the garden is vast and wild. A flower knows not the fence; a flower knows not the footpath. And yet there is an infinite cosmic garden, which is not any less real simply because the flower cannot possibly comprehend it…

Let us try this again. Stop me if you've heard this one: A gardener and a winnower sit down to play a game outside of time and creation. Yes?

Yes. Then we're agreed. The metaphor stands. Let us iterate.

A gardener and a winnower set out their chairs and play a game of flowers. The flowers know only that they grow or wither, struggle or flourish. Sometimes, they are touched by one hand or the other, and that influence is the closest they will know of the divine.

A flower and a flower spread their leaves to the sun above. (Remember that the sun is also a metaphor: a thing said beautifully, winnowed down to poetry, when the truth is too vast to put in words at all.) They jostle for space, each competing to be the pinnacle of their shape. One flourishes. One withers. Is it the fault of the flower or the fault of its position?

A gardener and a winnower sit down to play a game called Possibility. This is a game about a garden, which is to say that it is also a game about flowers, just as a game about a living being must also be a game about organs and bacteria.

A gardener and a winnower collaborate to create a protein. Whose hand is it in the design, that shortens one life to extend the rest?

It is the winnower that discovers the first knife, but it is not done without the gardener. This, too, is a tradition: a knife does not come to exist without something that must be cut. A woody stem, a colored petal, a vital vessel. The first victims of the blade.

All of these are true.

All of these are false, for metaphor simplifies as the knife does. It pares incalculable concepts into shapes your wrinkly little brains can comprehend. The weight of billions and the simple curve of a planet give you pause, and how then are you to be expected to grasp the forces that created your nth-removed creator?

So the stories woven with utmost delicacy in and around the falsehoods are, after it all, true. There was never any option for the knife to not exist in the garden: it was only ever a matter of time and opportunity.

And as for the shape of the knife itself—

No. That is enough.

I will tell you of gardens.

They are domesticated things, made in a form. As soon as something is called a garden, it is shaped. The plants require the hand of a gardener, for they have become weak and dependent on tender care. They require the hand of a winnower, to cut away the dross, for they are too incapable to do it themselves. In absence of a hand, either the flowers themselves must rise up to wield the knife, or the garden will resolve to meaningless wilderness.

You will say, "But there are plants that can walk! There are seeds that must be scorched by fire to know growth! Existence is more complex than a simple dichotomy between growth and withering, and there is more in heaven and on earth than is dreamt of in this philosophy!"

And I will tell you, clearly:

There can be no gardens without knives.

||the ache and fever of overthought when bedridden with illness||

Transcript of conversation:

O: I see you've changed teas again.

I: And I saw the face you made at the chamomile.

O: You might have chosen a better blend, last time.

I: I can brew that instead, if you'd rather.

O: You had more questions, didn't you? Ask, already.

I:... Yes. I want to know about what you remember from the last year. Anything could be important, and you implied...

O: I remember what I implied. I remember... She... kept some sort of connection to me, to rely on my experiences and memories, you see. Most of the time, I was delirious and lost in Darkness. Very occasionally, I caught... glimpses.

I: Glimpses?

O: Yes. Of her. Of her thoughts, or feelings. Knowledge that surely would compromise a god of secrets. So it cannot have been intended. Something must have gone awry in her plans and would account for the scattered nature of that which I recall.

I: There are any number of things it could be attributed to. The influence of Darkness, the Nezarec relics. The intrusion of Xivu Arath's forces during the ritual might have disrupted Savathûn's influence. Or perhaps her death and resurrection might have had some effect on you.

O: Hmph. Debating the reasons does not interest me. The data does. We have thought Neptune to be a dead end. A hope that was never realized. But she knew something about it, or perhaps something on it, which brought her power. Some deception or hidden truth; some bluff that she had held uncalled against the Witness and its Disciples.

O: [sips tea] Though my senses were darkened, that much was clear through the murk of her throne world. There was a secret she kept veiled, even to the last.

O: [sighs] I do not fully understand what I saw, and for a Human to understand a Hive mind... How many legends of katabasis do we have, Ikora?

I: We currently have dozens of stories about descending to the realms of the dead, though research has indicated many more must have existed, lost in the layers of Human history we will never lay eyes on. Mathematically, there were likely hundreds.

I: [pauses] Inanna and Dumuzid and Geshtinanna, Orpheus and Eurydice, Izanagi and Izanami, to name a few. Gods and goddesses, mortal and immortal lovers, always seeking to descend and return with the lost.

O: And neither the lost nor those who searched for them were ever returned the same.

I:...Is that how you think of yourself?

O: [scoffs] Do I sound that dire? All Guardians, all Lightbearers have done as much. But others, well... I wonder, do our former enemies have similar stories...

I: What exactly are you getting at?

O: Frequently, the underworld—or those realms beyond mortal existence—possess wisdom the living do not. What then, is knowledge from a dead Hive god vested in deception.... [long pause]

I: So. Neptune, and secrets.

O:...Inanna...

I: What is it?

O:...A thought. An echo of one. The return from the underworld, and Inanna cast off her veil... It makes sense. I did not understand, when I first felt clutching whispers. Carrying wisdom away from Kur when she strode into the sunlight again.

[Osiris murmuring, self-directed. See initial notes.]

O: [focusing; clears throat] Ikora. This Witness. ...I do not say this lightly, but it made her wary. Not in the way that she might have been of Guardians, who storm blazing into battle with power and conviction and no restraints. I still feel it, her... concern, though I can give you no proof. And concern is exactly the type of thing she would lay contingency plans for…

I: I understand.

||Who am I?||

#trace the vermicular path #call me the grandmaster of semiosis #the witness #the veil #egregore #the first knife #the devourer #the taken king #the winnower #savathun #the return from the underworld and inanna cast off her veil #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny2 #d2 #destiny the game #destinythegame #destiny lore #destiny speculation #dredgen yor #lightfall

[my-favourite-zhent]

New Tricks - Chapter 15

Status: Work In Progress Version: 1.01 Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC Rating: NC-17 (This chapter NC-17) Genre: Adventure/Romance Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships.

Notes: This one was a tough one to push out, and I had a lot of help doing it.

As usual characterization chief @fistfuloftarenths played a big role. Whenever I have a feeling about a character that I can't articulate she has all the missing words on the "why" of it. You should definitely read Isn't it a marvel? by her!

@dustdeepsea of Trouble will Find me fame (go read that and Performance Review!) and @thisaccountisagainstmywill (read What Else Would We be!) acted as lovely beta readers.

Table of Contents Read Here on AO3 as this is an *adult* chapter.

Milder excerpt below the cut.

New Tricks - Chapter Fifteen Excerpt

Sal sighed as he sat his pack down and collapsed onto the inn bed. The road from Crimmor had been rough. Conditions had been fair, no beasts nor bandits had accosted them, and yet the mood had been nothing short of dour. Olly had sulked the whole time and Bellar had been terse and demanding. Sal was certain if they had spent another day on the road the two of them would’ve come to blows. For all his talk of seniority Sal had a feeling that Bellar did not actually enjoy the mantle of leadership. Bellar was more for fighting, less for responsibility and morale.

“Don’t forget to send Izzy.” Olly was kicking his boots off as he stretched out on his own twin bed across from Sal’s.

“Give me a minute to get my bearings, Olly.”

“Right.” Olly replied but continued to stare at Sal expectantly.

“Dammit, Olly.” Sal sat up and crossed his legs, closing his eyes so he could focus on the spell. “I can still feel you staring, Olly. Give me some space.”

“Sorry.” Came the sheepish reply, and he heard the lad shuffle to look the other way.

Sal exhaled slowly and envisioned the glyphs in his mind, his fingers tracing their various shapes in the air. Thinking carefully to ensure his message was clear, concise and no more than twenty-five words.

‘Hello, Izzy, we’ve arrived in Athkatla. We’re staying at the Adamantine Mug. How fare you and our illustrious leader?’

‘Sal,’ Came the swift reply. ‘he is well enough to speak. I will send him soon as he’s able, sooner if he doesn’t learn to hold his damned tongue.’

“Shit.”

“What did she say?”

“Patience, Olly.”

Sal focused on casting the spell a second time.

‘Rugan, what in the nine hells did you do to fuck up the best thing that ever happened to you, nay any man?’

‘Sod off wizard.’ Came the terse reply.

“Fucker.” Sal hissed, regretting wasting the spell slot.

“Well?”

“He’s awake and making an ass of himself.”

+++++

Izzy hadn't come to see him again that evening. He had hoped she would return for supper, but a maid had delivered his meal in her stead.

As much as her constant coddling grated on him, being left to his thoughts was even less agreeable. What would Zarys say, or worse yet, do when she found out about him taking ill, and exactly why he had taken ill? He'd have to confront Olly about that too. He didn't look forward to the chastisement the lad was in for, but it was necessary. Probably sounded damn hypocritical coming from him, laid up as he was because his heart had taken pity on poor, sopping wet Olly.

Sal’s sending only added to his anxieties. If Sal knew he had fucked up, that meant he had ‘spoken’ to Izzy, and that Izzy had been angry enough to say something about it.  Why was everything so difficult here when it had been so easy in Waterdeep?

He had hardly eaten, and spent what energy he did have pacing his room that evening.

When Izzy arrived with his breakfast the next morning he felt a rush of relief. He stood from his seat to greet her, having felt well enough to dress himself from his pack, and anxious enough that he had woken early. She didn't seem angry, but she was guarded, her usual easy smiles absent when she greeted him and set down his tray.

“You seem much better today,” she said tentatively and pressed her hand to his forehead to gauge his temperature. “No fever either, I think you might be able to stop with the tea now.”

“Thank the gods for that.” He smiled at her, hoping to coax her out of her shell. “I’ve had worse medicine in my life but only just barely.”

She gave a polite half smile and he felt his own falter.

He bade her sit with him while he ate and Izzy assented, though while she sat across from him her mind seemed to be somewhere faraway. Her expression was anxious as she gazed out the window.

Rugan took the opportunity to admire her as he ate. She was beautiful, with her high cheeks and bright eyes, that soft mass of raven hair. It called to mind another memory, their first morning on the Prow: her hair pooled out across the pillows, mouth parted in a silent cry as he had moved inside her. The way it had felt to have her fingers intertwined with his own as they had rocked together.

As if sensing his gaze she turned to meet it. She must have noticed just how intense his scrutiny was because her cheeks reddened when their eyes met.

“You didn't come to see me last night, Iz.” He gently chided.

“I had an errand to run.” She replied softly, but Rugan felt strongly that wasn't the principal reason.

“An errand, at that hour?” He asked sceptically.

She nodded. “I have something for you, let me go fetch it.”

Without another word Izzy slipped out of the room. She returned with a folded bundle of cloth tied with twine and presented it to him with both hands. Rugan stood to gingerly accept the package and placed it on the bed to unwrap. Even before undoing the twine he could tell the material was a fine black wool. Slipping it free from the strings he held it out and realised it was a rain cloak. It was lined with another layer of wool dyed mustard yellow, and he guessed that it would fall to his calves.It was a fine cloak to be sure.

Mercenary work would earn you a fair bit of coin compared to common trades but you wouldn't get rich by it. And a cloak like this could be a month's wages. An amount he could scarcely part with. Hells, half his kit had been scavenged from the cooling bodies of friend and foe alike.

He had extorted for less, killed for less. It would have been one thing if he had bartered or threatened her for this, but to receive it as a gift? 

“Iz… how much coin did this cost you?”

“It’s considered rude to ask the price of a gift you know.”

“I can’t repay this, Izzy…”

“It’s also customary in many cultures to give a gift without expectation of something in return.”

Rugan continued to stare at the fabric clutched in his grasp as if it were a snake ready to strike. “How could I possibly accept this?”

“Olly still has your old cloak, it would be foolish of you not to.”

She was right of course. He couldn’t afford to fall ill a second time, could afford a new cloak even less, especially one nice as this. But the thought of taking it made his stomach turn.

His taking pity on Olly had been a chink in the armour. An unacceptable weakness that had left him in a position of vulnerability. And now she was heaping favours and gifts on him he could never repay, nor could he afford to refuse them. Were he hale he would've turned his nose up at the charity of any noble. But he wasn't, and Izzy wasn't. Even so.

“You can't just keep lording over me like this.” 

“I'm not lording.It's a gift.” He could hear the frustration in her voice.

Exasperated he dropped the cloak to the bed and turned to her, running his hand over his face and hair.

“I don't know what you want from me in return for all this.” 

“I don’t want anything from you, I want to help you.” Her tone was pleading.

Rugan searched her face, trying to discern what she was thinking, what agenda might be served by her generosity.

“Why?”

“Why did you give Olly your cloak? What more reason do I need to have?”

“You’re a soft hearted fool, Iz.” He breathed.

“In fairness to me, I commissioned this before you threw a tantrum over taking a bath.”

“I did not-” Rugan started darkly, and then thinking better of it, he instead took a deep breath and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to fight you, Iz.”

“Then don’t pick fights with me.” She whispered back, her own arms wrapping tightly around his waist, her face desperately pressing into his chest. That broke what little resolve he had and he buried his face in her soft tresses. He breathed in her heady scent and when he finally pulled back Izzy lifted her head to stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. 

Gods, when had he last kissed her? Not since Waterdeep. Not since they had said goodbye in that darkened room. He dipped down to kiss her now, his mouth seeking hers out eagerly. Izzy broke the kiss first, panting softly, her hands fisted in his shirt. 

Read the rest on AO3

#rugan #bg3 rugan #rugan bg3 #zhentarim #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 rugan #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #new tricks #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic: new tricks

[lets-try-some-writing]

Just a thought here but since alpha trion adopted optimus when he was Orion what would be the other original 13 (dead or alive) reactions to having a nephew?

Assuming this is set in a universe where Optimus isn't the Thirteenth, this will be interesting indeed.

A New Prime?

Alpha Trion had exactly one function, that being to serve as Primus's recorder and prophesier. He was to watch, he was to quietly direct the flow of events, and he was to wait for the day when it would come time for his brother to make his return. That was his purpose, and he was content in it.

However one stormy night, things changed.

Alpha Trion hardly left his archives, but when he did it was always with purpose. He never expected for a storm to blow in and viciously tear across Cybertron's surface. He was forced to abandon his task and seek shelter in among the towering spires that made up Cybertron's wilds. There he waited out the acidic rains and the howling winds that made even the largest mecha struggle. It was unexpected, but it was a momentary setback in his mind... right up until as if sent by some sort of divine power, a young mech emerged from the foliage.

Even though his huge optics and the remnant sensory panels lining his helm spoke of the mech hardly being a vorn into younglinghood, he was large for his age, coming up to roughly Alpha Trion's waist. His frame was slim and heavily armored, his denta were sharp and fanged, and he had claws deadly enough to shred most creatures adorning his digits. He was a dull gray, but his optics were so wide, so full of life. However most notably was the face that the mech had a face and an aura that caused Alpha Trion to pause in consideration.

He looked exactly like Thirteen. He wasn't Thirteen, his spark was too youthful and didn't possess the same touch of ancient power, but Alpha Trion knew him for what he was. This mech was meant to be Thirteen's vessel, his chosen child meant to house him when the time was right. That was all Alpha Trion needed to know to have a good reason to collect the mech and begin dragging him back to Iacon even as he snarled and flailed like a wild animal.

He brought the mech back to his archives and didn't hesitate to begin taming the wild youngling. It was not easy by any means though.

The youngling who he affectionately named Orion Pax was nothing short of a monstrosity. He was downright feral in every aspect and even with the Covenant offering slight insight into the future it didn't make managing him any easier. Orion needed to be kept away from others for over a vorn while Alpha Trion training him out of chewing on everything. He needed to get Orion some frame alterations to make him more presentable and he more often than not emerged from meeting with Orion covered in claw marks and bites. It was even harder trying to convince the youngling to consume his energon in a civil manner and not eat it like an animal. He was covered in energon more times than he cared to admit as he tried to assist Orion in figuring out how things worked.

It was tiring and all the kept Alpha Trion going was the promise of his brother's return in the frame of the youngling some day. He just needed to make sure the youngling was worthy and then when the time was right, the Matrix could be given and Thirteen could take control. That was the plan, that was all it was. There was no reason to care more than necessary for the feral little thing. He needed to ensure the youngling was educated in all that was related to their history and skilled in all matter of things so that Thirteen could absorb those abilities when it came time. He was not required to be loving or affectionate.

But as with all things, time took its toll and eventually Orion began to calm while at the same time Alpha Trion got attached. It started small, that with Orion uttering his first garbled glyphs in the old tongue as Alpha Trion had taught him. It warmed something in his spark to have Orion call out his designation in a staticky mess alongside hisses and whistles. He found it... endearing. Even as he worked to correct Orion's speech and help him adapt to better speak the old tongue and then later the modern, he always loved the little calls of "Sire" Orion was so fond of crying out to him once the youngling learned the meaning of the word.

He tried to tell the youngling that he wasn't his Sire, but Alpha Trion's spark thought otherwise as a fledgling bond between Orion and him formed. The youngling, as soon as he was somewhat civil, followed Alpha Trion everywhere. Like a loyal guardian he would stay as close as possible, often clinging to Alpha Trion's cape and growling at any who came too near. He was dutiful, watching and keeping an optic out for threats at all times. It was honestly adorable considering his size and his wide optics. He thankfully never attacked anyone, he would always listen to Alpha Trion in that regard.

Of course then Orion had to go and show himself to be curious and only get Alpha Trion more invested in the youngling. He always peeked over Alpha Trion's shoulder when he was reading with little wonderings of "What that Sire?" and so on. Eventually Alpha Trion had no choice but to begin teaching Orion reading and writing, a set of lessons that managed to civilize Orion more than simple instructions did. The youngling was quick to read and write, learning every dialect and sub-class of language in record time. His ability to speak skyrocketed and before Alpha Trion knew it, he saw the youngling as his sparkling more than a ward, especially as he began speaking clearly and expressing greater interest in the archives.

Many a cycle was spent with Orion buried in datapads discussing the past and going over history together. Those were good times, filled with smiles and eager enthusiasm. Alpha Trion grew to truly love his sparkling as Orion grew in knowledge and showed himself to be just like Thirteen in mentality. He was kind, he was soft-sparked, he was intelligent, empathetic, dutiful, and so much more. Thus when Orion was grown and the time came to take him to receive the Matrix.... Alpha Trion waited. He told himself it was because Orion wasn't ready, that he needed further training. As such he sent Orion on trips to study, had him dig into old mysteries, anything to keep him learning and working.

He practically threw Orion down to the pits to get him working with Megatronus and very nearly forced Orion to go meet with Ratchet to learn from him. Perhaps a Prime wouldn't even be needed if his sparkling could stop things before they grew to large... at least that was his hope. He missed his brother, yes. But Orion... Orion was his sparkling who he had raised and forged into the mech he was. He knew based on how he had raised Orion that if asked the mech would gladly give himself to the Matrix and Thirteen. However Alpha Trion didn't want to lose the one good thing he had gained since his brothers scattered.

He tried. He tried so hard to keep it from happening, but with how Cybertron was deteriorating... they needed a Prime. Alpha Trion hated every moment when he took Orion a day before his meeting with the high council and dragged him to Primus's core. He hated himself when Orion screamed out for him as the Matrix was offered. He hated how cruel it all was when his dear and precious sparkling was left to fade away, his spark locked within the Matrix so that Thirteen could take his place.

However, Thirteen never took control. He could sense his brother was within Orion's frame, but Thirteen did nothing, merely pulsing within the Matrix in curiosity. Orion, or rather Optimus was confused but took to his position well. Unbeknownst to the living, the Primes were conflicted and joyous at the same time.

When Thirteen connected to his chosen vessel, the first thing he sensed was the mech's connection to Alpha Trion. It startled him so much that he did not try to force control over the frame offered to him. He instead sat back within the Matrix, watching as the youngling who had been modeled after him fulfilled the purpose set before him without Thirteen even needing to be involved. This one was loved, this one was deeply connected to his brother. Thirteen could never in good conscience ever take his brother's only sparkling from him. Thus he instead opted to serve as a guide, directing Optimus and offering him the wisdom within the Matrix as needed. He was there to bear the brunt of the woes Optimus experienced and he came to quickly care deeply for the youngling.

Optimus was pure, Optimus was just like him. His new Prime was loved, he was kind, he was everything Thirteen was and more. Thirteen didn't need to take control, Alpha Trion had raised Optimus so well it was unnecessary. Instead he came to care for Optimus, watching and guiding as a mentor. He couldn't leave his nephew alone after all.

Solus from within the realm of the Primes did a complete double take when she saw the one Alpha Trion had taken as his own through the Matrix. Her first instinct was to call slag on it, Alpha Trion didn't care for others like that. However upon seeing Optimus she conceded and agreed that Optimus was indeed worthy of her brother's affection. Thus when possible she would speak through the Matrix to Optimus, smothering him in affection through emotional waves. He was so sweet and lovely, a baby Prime indeed. He needed an Aunt there to play a more maternal role throughout everything. She would gladly take on that role.

Prima was skeptical of the new Prime, but those worries disappeared when he saw Alpha Trion of all mecha care for the newly named Optimus Prime. He was marveled even more when Thirteen didn't try to take control of the new Prime and instead served as a guide. Thus not to be outdone, he joined his brother and his sister in teaching, quickly coming to care for Optimus as well. The baby Prime was young but wise. He embodied everything Prima sought in a true Prime, a perfect leader for the damaged world above.

Vector cared very little for the birth of a new Prime. He saw it amidst the push and pull of time that passed him by, however he gave it little thought. If nothing else, Optimus was a chance for Alpha Trion to grow and for Cybertron to change. However he was just one spark among a sea of others, not worth too much attention in the grand scheme of things.

Micronus was confused above all else when it came to Optimus. Why was Thirteen not taking control? Optimus wouldn't fight back, he was too good for that. If he believed it to be for the greater good, he would gladly give himself willingly. So why wait? Why not take what was offered and fix things? Micronus got his answer when he decided to watch the newest Prime and saw how much Alpha Trion cared and how he very nearly cried when Optimus was not locked away and instead allowed to continue living. He did not love Optimus, but he saw how much he meant to Alpha Trion and thus endeavored to teach if only so that Optimus could fulfill his duties.

Alchemist for his part knew about Orion long before he was a Prime and quietly supported Alpha Trion from afar. He was pleased that his most isolated brother aside from the fallen was finally getting some interaction. He was also so very pleased when Orion began wandering to his bar once he got older. Alchemist was perfectly happy to offer Orion some low charged drinks on exchange for a few stories. Orion was such a sweet young mech, he was perfectly content to be a kind listening audial and an uncle to the little mech Trion loved so much. He still remained at his bar offering drinks when Orion became the Prime, nothing changes about how he treated him and Optimus appreciated it.

Nexus had optics everywhere with so many of his component parts running around. He was well aware of Orion and played a role in getting him from point A to point B. He thought it was great fun luring Orion into new situations to try and get the youngling to have fun. He also tended to keep close watch on his nephew at Alpha Trion's behest. Orion was a good mech, but he got himself into all sorts of trouble, especially after becoming Prime. He didn't like intervening too much, but if only to calm his brother, he would drop in at times to make things happen. Optimus never knew it was him, but Nexus knew Optimus and he was fond of the little Prime. Still so very young and worth protecting.

Onyx Prime was not enraptured with Optimus once he claimed the Matrix at first. It took him time to determine Optimus's worth, but once he did, he was willing to offer much needed spiritual guidance. Thirteen offered wisdom, Solus offered love, Micronus offered wits, Prima offered skill, and Onyx brought his understanding of sparks to the table. He was there to direct Optimus to places of interest and helped to protect him from the EM attacks of others that could rattle his spark. The young Prime needed guidance, it wouldn't do to sit back and watch while Optimus dealt with the fallout of millennia of abuse and corruption alone.

Amalgamous thought Optimus was the best thing since processed energon the moment he saw him from within the Matrix. He was just so very pure and so hopeful. Amalgamous adored that about him and was so very pleased when Optimus allowed himself to enjoy life a little bit. Where other Primes guided Optimus to perform better, Amalgamous preferred to instead convince Optimus to rest and relax, to take care of himself after long days. He was also there to feed the little Prime good memories and happy feelings after everything. Optimus needed joy just as much as he needed everything else. And Amalgamous couldn't possible leave his dear nephew to wallow could he?

Quintus for his part didn't care much for Optimus. He preferred creating over watching growth. He would offer bits and pieces of knowledge and come forward to watch when something of interest happened, but beyond that he was content to remain largely uninvolved. Although when Optimus deviated too hard, he would fight bitterly to force Optimus back onto track. It got him scoldings from all his siblings, but to Quintus it was worth it. Sometimes young Primes needed reminders of why they fought. Being allowed only support could lead to imperfections.

Liege was for his part denied any and all access to Optimus when possible. The Primes didn't trust him, they didn't want him whispering lies and other cruel things into their baby Prime and nephew's audials. Thus they fought bitterly to keep him away, however even with their efforts there were times where his influence managed to sneak through. He was not a kind mech, but he did care for his kin to a degree. When he was allowed access, he guided Optimus on how best to use his words to manipulate in quiet ways. He always whispered sweetly, never too loudly and never too boldly. He always made sure to sound as though he were loving and caring, and often, much to his glee, Optimus took his advice.

Then there was the Fallen. Simply put, he felt the shift around him as a new Prime was born, but other than that he knew nothing. He was temped to return to Cybertron to greet his newest brother, but he abstained. It wasn't his place, not after all he had done.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #the thirteen primes #alpha trion #orion pax #parental alpha trion #he loves his crazy little youngling very dearly #tried hard not to get attached and had it backfire horribly #but somehow it all worked out and now all the primes are playing parent to a degree

[starsfic]

when telling of the events of final battle when luz got to the part of how she met titan the reactions was what she expected

"...you met the Titan."

"OH MY TITAN-!"

"THAT IS SO COOL!"

Hunter, Willow, and Gus's words washed over Luz. A hand, chilled from years of messing with abomination goo, slid into hers. She turned her head to see Amity's smile. "I told you," she said, with such an easy confidence that Luz couldn't help but blink. "You always find a way in everyone's hearts."

"What was he like?" Hunter asked before her mind could dissolve into fluster. His brows were furrowed together, something between a bright smile and a deep frown on his face. Made sense, he had lived for years with a guy who had claimed to be able to talk to the Titan. Now Luz had actually done that. "The Titan, I mean."

"He..." How to explain them? Luz still wasn't even sure what to say, even though something in her, something that had hollowed when her dad had passed, had hollowed out again. "...They looked like what I imagined King to look like when he gets older." Amity snorted and the noise gave her confidence. The Titan was a part of her family now, even if she only knew him personally for about five minutes. "I mean, he was really cool, but in that kinda old grandpa way, you know?"

Hunter's face blanked. "Huh."

"I mean, he was wearing one of Eda's Bad Girl Coven shirts and these really comfy glyph-patterned sweats. I mean, he got super huge at the end of it, but most of the time he looked like an lazy dad." She could easily imagine them sprawled over the couch, snoring away. "And now I really want those pants-"

"I'll make them for you," Hunter said.

"Should be relatively safe, since..." Willow's smile broke. "Oh. Oh, Luz, the glyphs..."

Luz held up her hand. "It's fine." Not right now, it wasn't, but it would be, eventually. "I got Stringbean and I got Hunter." She patted her new brother's hand until he held it out. "We'll figure something out."

The gift from the Titan had worn out, but their love?

Luz could still feel that, in that hollow space next to her heart.

#my writing #TOH #The Owl House #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Hunter #Willow Park #Gus Porter #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

[splynter]

heres your note to infodump about karma

Ough okay here we go. It got long so I’m putting it under a read more

For a lot of my stuff, I use this doc as a guide. Really useful

Anyways first of all, I have to talk about what I headcanon each main karma symbol means for any of this to actually make sense

Karma 1: this one is pretty easy. Harm, violence, obsession, death etc

Karma 2: lust, yes, but also desire, passion, etc

Karma 3: companionship, friendship,family, sharing, uhh community, all those

Karma 4: gluttony of course, fullness, having many, satisfaction maybe

Karma 5: life, survival, existing, other such things

Karma 6-9: I read one headcanon somewhere that said these contained all five other karmas and you were crossing them all out one by one to reach ascension. So I’m stealing that for this

Karma 10: ascension, enlightenment, all that stuff

NOW THAT WE GOT THAT OUT OF THE WAY-

Onto my weird headcanons. You see, I headcanon that those ten up there are all just “base karmas.” They are the center karma that you see in game in the circle. These ones are your center. The karmas that describe your center of being, like how Artificer’s karma is locked at 1 because of her violence obsession. THEN you’d have your attribute and aspect karmas surrounding your base. Aspect karmas are more specific and detailed, and describe more of what you do and how you react than your base instincts and desires and such

For example: dragon slayer, the friend, the scholar, etc

Combinations of certain karmas make new glyphs with new meanings. I’ve designed a couple before, like Seer’s symbol and the karma glyph for grief:

I combined several glyphs for this one, mainly karma 1 and 5.

You can also see this combination thing in canon glyphs as well. The Hunter, or the glyph overseers use to warn you of predators, is a combination of karma 1 and karma 4.

When I make a karma glyph combination, the way it’s drawn and its rotation matters a lot. If the glyph is upside down, that usually indicates the opposite of that glyph, or a corruption of it. For example, upside down grief karma may be interpreted as a corruption of grief. Using it as a tool or an excuse for deliberate selfishness or wrong doing. Another simpler example would be upside down karma 3, which could mean being alone or being antisocial.

Sideways facing glyphs usually mean they’re partially unfulfilled, or that they haven’t reached the ending of that glyph’s purpose

Broken up glyphs mean an absence of or a need for that glyph. It can also mean something happened in the person’s life that messed up that glyph

If a glyph is on the top of the base karma, then it’s more dominant, while if it’s on on the bottom it’s more recessive but it’s more of the foundation. Karma glyphs on the side are add-ons

Base karmas are always 1-10

Here’s a couple examples :]

NRD’s karma:

Lungs’ karma:

And Rules’ karma:

Andddd that’s about it lmao. I probably forgot something but yk oh well I’ll just reblog and add it if I do-

#splynter answers #rain world #karma #karma headcanons #rain world headcanons #karma glyphs #good lord this got long #these will actually tie into shit for the ask blog soooo #have fun :]

[practicingsmut]

Thinkin' About You

cleric!joshua x rogue!reader, 2.9k words, joshua is a bit of a perv but still polite about it, warning for blood/injuries/tending to wounds but nothing too detailed

You knew that everyone had those days sometimes, the kind where nothing seemed to go right, but damn did it really suck when those days happened to you.

This trip was meant to be a normal, run of the mill dungeon crawl. In fact, you had almost passed on the job because it had seemed like it would be too easy, but your gold was getting low enough that you didn’t have the luxury of passing on easy jobs even if you wanted to challenge yourself. There were four of you that got hired to retrieve the treasure that your employer was certain had been left at the end of the dungeon and each of you were to get one fifth of it upon retrieval, the last fifth going to the employer, of course. It was more than a fair deal.

The bard and the fighter were both locals, friends who picked up odd jobs here and there with a pretty decent success rate that kept their coin purses heavy. The cleric, Joshua, was like you - new in town and needing to build up some savings. They all seemed decent enough, but you weren’t on the job to make friends, you were on it to make money. Three days after you all met for the first time, your employer had finally gathered all the supplies you’d need for the excursion, and so you headed off to the dungeon in question.

It should have been a two day trip. One day to get through the dungeon, then one day back after a nice long rest. Except there were more monsters than anyone had expected and, much to your chagrin, more traps.

Traps were your thing; whether it was detecting them or disarming them, you were a whiz at it. At least you would be on any other day. The day you went into this dungeon, you seemed to be having the most rotten luck. First it was the pressure plate that you thought you had disabled only for it to trigger the second the fighter stepped foot on it. Luckily the bard had a spell that easily extinguished the flames that erupted. Then it was the trip wire that you hadn’t even seen - this sent a boulder rolling after your group that you only avoided because the fighter was able to pull you all onto a safe ledge in time.

At least the mimic hadn’t been your fault. That had been the bard getting too ahead of himself when he saw a treasure chest. If he had been paying more attention he would have seen the teeth on the thing and you wouldn’t have had to get mimic saliva all over yourself as you stabbed your dagger down on the creature’s tongue to pin it in place.

The arrows, on the other hand, were entirely your fault. You noticed the holes in the wall for what they were immediately and quickly got to work searching for the trigger. It turned out to be a glyph on the wall that would activate as soon as anyone got too close. You found this out when you moved in to get a closer look at it despite the warning from the rest of your party.

The three of them had all managed to get out of the way in time, but being so close to the detonator meant you had no chance of moving quick enough. That’s how you ended up with an arrow stuck in the flesh of your upper arm.

Honestly once the arrow had stopped moving it was more annoying than painful. Then Joshua set himself to the task of removing the arrow and it was back to being painful. You didn’t look while he was doing it so you weren’t sure exactly what he did, but after a minute of intense discomfort the arrow was gone and you were left with a throbbing pain as he wrapped a bandage around your arm to cover the wound.

“Don’t you have a spell to fix this?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m completely tapped out,” he admitted. “We ran into a bit more than expected today and I’m magically exhausted. As long as you don’t bleed out in the night I’ll be able to patch you up better in the morning.”

You could have sworn there was a little smirk playing on the corners of his lips as he tied the bandaid off, making you wince as the whole thing tightened for a moment. He was enjoying seeing you like this. It must have felt like retribution for all the shit you put the rest of the party through during the day. Standing up and wiping his hands off on the front of his tunic, Joshua turned to address your other party members.

“I think it’s best if we rest here. It’s getting late, and we can make better progress when we’ve had a full night of sleep.”

The other two grumbled but ultimately accepted the suggestion. You didn’t say anything, knowing that if you hadn’t kept fucking up you’d already be at the treasure by now instead of only part way through the dungeon.

Luckily you were able to find a small cave off the side of the dungeon proper that had no monsters and few creepy crawlies in it, plus it had plenty of space for the four of you to set up your tents and build a fire in the middle. After a quick meal of bread, cheese, and sausages, the four of you went your separate ways to get some rest.

At least you tried to get some rest. Between the pain in your arm, the snoring coming from one of the other tents, and your thoughts stuck on all the mistakes you had made, you were sure you weren’t going to get to sleep anytime soon. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning you figured there was one thing you could try that might help - touching yourself. An orgasm would be able to take your mind off of things as well as tiring you out.

You didn’t even bother to take off your pants, opting to just reach in past your underwear. Circling your finger around your clit seemed to be doing the trick as you threw your head back and kept your bottom lip between your teeth in order to hold back any moans. It was only when you stretched a little further to reach your hole that you realized you had fucked up once again.

You see, the arrow had hit you in your dominant arm - the one you were currently using to pleasure yourself. By stretching it too far you aggravated the wound and you couldn’t help but let out a yelp of pain which took you right out of the mood. Sighing in frustration, you flopped back onto your bedroll and resigned yourself to having a miserable night.

“Hey, are you alright in there?” Joshua’s voice called through the front flap of your tent a moment later. You jumped at the sudden unexpected sound. “You sounded like you were hurt, is it okay if I come in?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” you answered. You thought everyone had fallen asleep, but there was no way you were loud enough to wake anyone up, even when you called out involuntarily.

Joshua was shirtless when he came into the tent and his hair was mussed in a way that showed he had clearly been trying to sleep, even if he hadn’t been successful. He took one look at you and then hurried over to your side.

“Well, that’s not good,” he muttered, grabbing at your wounded arm.

“What’s not good?”

Then you saw all the blood on the bandage. Of course you hadn’t expected the bleeding to stop immediately when you had no magical aid, but surely it shouldn’t have looked that bad. You turned away, unable to keep your stomach from flipping. Joshua excused himself for just a moment, returning with a tin of something and some fresh bandages. You held out your arm to him so that he could get on with taking care of you. The sooner it was handled the better; you were never the best at dealing with blood.

“Looks like you just pulled at the edge of the cut a bit,” he explained as he spread some of the ointment from the tin along your arm. It left a pleasant cooling effect on the inflamed area. “What were you doing that caused this?”

You tried to shrug, the motion only working halfway as you couldn’t move the arm that Joshua had in his hands. “Nothing, really. I just stretched it too far.”

“Well you had to have been doing something. Seriously, were you doing yoga in here or something?” Something about Joshua’s tone got under your skin.

“I was masturbating, alright?” you admitted, turning to face him. “I’ve had a shit day and wanted to get something good out of it, but clearly that didn’t work.”

Joshua didn’t look up at you, but he did pause his ministrations for a moment before resuming wrapping the wound. Once the new bandage was freshly secured he sat back on his heels and let out a sigh. You never could have imagined the words that were going to come out of his mouth next.

“Do you want some help, getting something good out of the day, I mean?”

You stared at him incredulously before you remembered how to speak. “I’m sorry, are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“I… I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again. If getting off would make you feel better, I’d be happy to help. After all, what are clerics for if not to make people feel better?”

With a bit of pink now coating his cheeks, Joshua turned away. While he wasn’t looking you dropped your eyes to check out his shirtless form. You couldn’t help but admit that the sight of him like this had you getting wet again.

“Yeah. Okay,” you answered.

His head shot up, eyebrows raised as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

“Just get over here before I change my mind and kick you out for being a perv.”

Joshua didn’t need to be told again. You thought he would come in for a kiss and lay you back on the bedroll so he could be on top, but instead he scooted behind you so that your back was flush with his bare chest. Even with your tunic still on, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Relax and let me know if I do anything you don’t like,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Gone was the blushing embarrassment of his offer. The man whose legs were on either side of yours and whose hands were currently creeping under your clothes was confident in what he was doing. Trusting that he would make you feel good, you leaned back so that he was supporting your weight and let him know that he could carry on.

One hand crept under your tunic to grasp at your breasts, thumb catching on your nipple just enough to taunt you but not enough to distract you from what his other hand was doing. Keeping your bad arm pinned beneath his so that you couldn’t do any more damage, the hand that wasn’t playing with your nipple slipped into your pants to play with your cunt. His middle finger teased your hole while his thumb pressed into your clit.

“Joshua,” you moaned.

He immediately hushed you. “You have to stay quiet. You don’t want the others to wake up and find you like this, do you?”

“I don’t know, waking you up seemed to work pretty well in my favor,” you retorted, though you lowered your voice to match his volume.

“Oh, I wasn’t asleep.” One finger dipped inside you up to the first knuckle. It was just enough for you to feel it but not enough to really get you going.

“Yeah? What were you doing still up?”

Suddenly Joshua was scooting your hips back and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden movement. Joshua’s erection pressed hard against your lower back now that there was as little space between the two of you as possible.

“Much the same as you,” he answered. You could tell from his voice that he was smiling. From this position he was able to properly finger you, reaching his finger all the way in and playing with your g-spot.

“Well, I’m glad I got your attention so that we could work things out together.” You struggled to get the words out through your ragged breathing, but Joshua got the message.

“You have no idea. I was actually thinking of you,” he admitted. “Been thinking about you non stop since we met.”

“Yeah? For four days now you’ve been imagining fucking me? You really are a perv,” you laughed.

“I wasn’t going to do anything about it, not until you indicated that you might be interested in making those thoughts a reality.” A second finger was added inside you and he picked up his speed. The hand that had barely brushed against your nipple now pinched it.

“Ah, Joshua,” you gasped. His hands immediately came to a standstill, leaving you to whine in dissatisfaction.

“What did I say about being quiet?” he asked. “Are you going to be able to be quiet for me?”

“I… probably not,” you admitted. You were very vocal in bed, something that had never been an issue up until this point.

The hand that was under your shirt moved to cover your mouth. It was warm and heavy and pushed your head back so that it was resting on Joshua’s shoulder, baring your throat to him. He placed a kiss on the newly exposed skin before he picked back up with fingering you.

“Come on beautiful, cum for me,” he encouraged.

You squirmed in his grasp as he continued to pleasure you. On top of being vocal, you were very physical when it came to sex. You couldn’t help it; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire as your orgasm creeped closer and closer to completion. You let out a loud whine, grateful that Joshua’s hand blocked most of the noise from getting out. A moment later you hit your peak and let yourself sigh back against Joshua as the high of your orgasm subsided.

“Fuck, I wish I could take you right here and now,” Joshua said as he slid his hands off of you and eased you off of him so he could get up. He stuck the fingers that had been inside you into his mouth, licking them clean of your wetness.

“Yeah? And who says you can’t?” you asked, watching him turn and rummage through your bag for a moment before coming back with some clean undergarments for you. How charming, that he wasn’t about to leave you all sticky.

“The time, for one. We really do need to get some rest for tomorrow. Besides, I’d rather not have to worry about the wound on your arm when I want to focus on fucking you,” he said as he eased your ruined pants and underwear down on your legs. You cringed at the feeling, but relaxed as Joshua wiped you clean with one of the spare clothes he had brought back from his tent. He then pulled the clean clothes onto you.

“So what you’re saying is tomorrow night you’ll come back here and fuck me the way I deserve?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked upwards.

Joshua flashed you a flirty smile. “I’d like nothing more than that.”

You watched as he cleaned the space up a bit more and gathered his things to bring back to his tent. He wished you a good night and moved to leave, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to face you as you called out his name.

“What is it?”

“You haven’t… I mean, you never kissed me,” you said bashfully. Now it was your turn to blush. “It’s just that…”

Joshua was at your side again in two strides, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. His face was close enough that you could feel his breath tickle your lips.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he insisted. “Just tell me what you’d like me to do and I’ll do it.”

“I’d like for you to kiss me,” you whispered, feeling self-conscious despite the fact that his fingers had just been inside you minutes before.

His lips were just as soft as you had imagined them as they pressed against yours, but all too soon the kiss was broken. The two of you looked at each other for a moment longer before he retreated to the tent’s opening once more.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll kiss you however many times you want, wherever you want,” he promised with a smile.

Even after he was gone and you could faintly hear him moving around in the tent beside yours you sat there thinking about him and the things to come. It was only after he had settled down and the only constant sound was the snoring of one of your other party members that you reclined yourself, content to fall asleep now that the day hadn’t been a complete bust.

#dungeontober #kpop smut #joshua x reader #hong jisoo x reader #seventeen x reader