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inkstainedhandswithrings · 1 year

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Touch Starved

A/N: Hi all you lovely people! I'm here with another out of context one-shot that will connect to a larger fix-it fic that I will hopefully post here one day! A HUGE thank you to the absolutely lovely @saturn-sends-hugs for beta reading this and giving me feedback! This wouldn't be the piece it is without you, love!! <333

warnings: mentions of death, grief, emotional vulnerability. mostly just fluff with sad overtones tho :)

pairing: Captain Rex x f!OC Nevaeh Requa

summery:Nevaeh returns to Coruscant after a siege and finds her apartment to be too quiet. A certain Captain seems to be having a similar problem.

masterlist

It was a quiet night on Coruscant. The 501st had just returned from a siege, alongside Nevaeh and her own battalion. They were granted an extended shore leave and Fives had invited Nevaeh and Rose to come to 79's with them.

It wasn't the first time he had asked either. They had refused him in the past, but after coming home and taking a nap, both women soon found themselves not only bored, but overwhelmed with the vast difference between the volume of battle and the almost silent apartment on Coruscant.

Rose had finally decided on going with them, but Nevaeh was still reluctant.

She felt a little bad about turning Fives down again, because she cared about the clones she'd gotten to work with and she knew she would enjoy spending some time with them off the battlefield. But her new rank as General left her nervous about appearances. Perhaps it was vain of her, since she didn't have that problem as a Commander. Then again, that felt like a lifetime ago.

Either way, the apartment was too quiet, so she grabbed her headphones, boots and coat and made her way outside for a walk.

The area their apartment was in wasn't all bad. It was on the top level of Coruscant, military district. Not far from the clone barracks.

They realized this when they went out to the grocery store and the only people they met there were admirals and other high ranking nat-born officers. No clone troopers inside, though. They later met one from the 104th outside. Nevaeh remembered he introduced himself as Sinker. He had helpfully pulled up a map of Coruscant and shown off the different districts in the area and on the level. He'd finished with a wink and a cheap line.

"Barracks are right around the corner if you need anything else, ladies."

Nevaeh smiled at the memory. Secretly, she hoped to soon work with the 104th, so that she'd be re-introduced to Sinker as General Requa. Just to see his face.

Not realizing how far she'd wandered while lost in thought, Nevaeh saw that she'd made it to one of the passageways down into the planet's core. She stepped up to the railing, her chilled hands falling on top of the cold bar. As fascinated as ever, she watched as the ships rose and descended.

Nevaeh didn't like Coruscant because of its absence of nature and tranquility. Its energy felt rotten to her. A planet turned into one city, invested by too many people for it to bear. How the Jedi lived here full time she would never understand.

Regardless, this part, for some reason, she liked. The ships rising and descending from and to the planet's core somehow reminded her of an amusement park. She smiled fondly, remembering her sister back home. They had always loved the rides. Maybe she should try this one.

She was pulled out of her revere when her eyes wandered to the side and she became aware of a figure standing nearby, watching the ships like she was.

It only took her a second to notice the clone armor, marked with the deep, blue 501st paint. In the next second she noticed the kama on the trooper's hips and the jaig-eyes on the helmet he was loosely holding in his hands.

Pulling her headphones off and letting them rest on her shoulders, Nevaeh approached Rex, grazing a soft hand over his shoulder to get his attention.

"Hey, Rex," she said, but jumped back as he tried to seize her wrist.

Facing her, recognition lit up in his eyes and he quickly composed himself. "General Requa! Apologies, I wasn't... I didn't realize..."

"No, no," she quickly waved him off. "It was my mistake. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

A silence fell over them as Rex looked down and off to the side, unsure what to do. He had his hands clasped behind his back and was standing a bit ridgedly, somewhere between parade rest and standing normally. Noticing this, Nevaeh tried to cut through some of the tension.

"You also out on a walk?" she asked.

Rex looked at her surprised, before stammering out and answering. "Uh, yes, Sir. Something like that. Jus'... barracks and office felt a bit too quiet tonight, s'all."

Neaveh nodded thoughtfully, a tired smile on her lips. She turned back around and let her forearms rest on the railing to watch the ships again. "Yeah, I get that. Rose is out with some of your boys from Torrent right now. Couldn't handle the silent apartment either."

Coming to stand next to her, still very much rigid and uncomfortable, Rex followed her line of sight. "They took her to 79's then, Sir?"

Nevaeh chuckled. "Sure did. You really know your men if you can guess where they went."

Rex went quiet again, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Well, uhm... it's... it's not that hard to predict, Sir. 79's is the only place we can really go to."

"How come?" she asked, thinking nothing of it.

"The Republic picks up the tab for our drinks. Not... not all drinks, the cheap stuff, nothing fancy. Gets you drunk though," he explained.

Nevaeh gave him a puzzled look. "Your pay's that bad? Or do you guys just drink more than us?" She tried to ask in a casual way, but her meaning wasn't lost on either of them.

Rex wasn't sure how to answer. Or rather, he wasn't sure that any answer he could give would prevent her from getting upset. But he couldn't really ignore a question from a superior officer, so he searched for the words. "We... We don't get paid at all, Sir. The drink tab is about it."

At that she whipped around, fast enough for Rex's hand to land on his blaster. He cursed his own instincts, knowing that she wasn't a threat. A month on the battlefield had made him more skittish than he'd like to admit.

"You don't get paid at all?"

"No, Sir."

Silence.

Rex wasn't sure if she was shocked or angry. Maybe a mix of both. Selfishly, he felt glad. The fact that a nat-born who wasn't previously affiliated with the Republic or the GAR, felt so strongly about this made his tension soften. It melted into a feeling he couldn't quite describe. Still fluttery and nervous, but different somehow.

Some of the other nat-born officers he knew had no problem at all with him and his brothers not getting compensated. He'd even heard some say that they were lucky the Republic gave them food and a place to sleep. Not that he would call brown sludge and gray cubes "food". And not that he would call a metal plank with a thin excuse of a mattress "a place to sleep".

"Does it bother you?" she finally asked, sounding uncertain for the first time.

"Bother is... a strong word. I know that the Republic doesn't treat me and my brothers in the best way, but... those are the politicians. The people at the top. But that's not who the Republic is to me. To me it's the people. The people who live here on Coruscant and on all the other planets we freed from Separatist rule," he explained, not meeting her eye and instead opting to continue people-watching.

"The innocents," Nevaeh summed up.

"Yes," he agreed. "They're the ones I fight for." Rex jumped when he felt a hand land on top of his own. Looking down to the railing, he saw her softly grabbing his hand, grazing his knuckles. He was unsure of what it meant and how to respond. He and his brothers did touch each other, but not like this. The men used soft nudges and punches to connect to the others, but these soft, lingering touches and grazes that she was using? It was totally new to him. Her hand was cold, he could feel it through his glove. Briefly he wondered if an appropriate response would be to try and warm her hand up with his own, but then she was already pulling away.

Still, he looked down at his hand as though her own was still on top of it.

"You're a good soldier, Rex," she finally said and when he turned he was surprised to find her eyes trained on him.

"Thank you, Sir," Rex nodded in gratitude, her words filling him with pride.

"My name's Navaeh," she said. "A lot of people call me 'Vae too. You can use those when we're not on duty."

Rex, knowing the importance of names, only nodded in understanding. "Of course."

A more comfortable silence fell over them this time as they returned to watching the people below. After a while Nevaeh turned back to him.

"So you didn't go to 79's with the others?"

"Uh... no," he almost added a 'Sir' at the end of his sentence but he bit his tongue. "I have reports to fill out. Jus' needed a breather, s'all."

Nevaeh hummed in understanding. "What kinda reports?" she asked absentmindedly, watching a particularly large vessel rising from the planet's core.

"Casualties," he said.

She froze. "I thought the battalion's General fills those out?"

Rex grew nervous again. His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck. She noted the gesture as one to communicate discomfort. "Uh... General Skywalker's... not particularly good with reports. I do most of the 501st paperwork and he jus'.... signs off on it."

Her hand landed on his arm this time and something inside him cursed his trusted armor for hindering him from feeling her skin against his. "Rex, that's terrible. Just because Anakin is bad at his job doesn't have to mean that you need to do it for him. You're only human too, you can't do it all! I'll talk to him, okay?"

"No!" His other hand flew up to her arm, holding her in place. "No, please Nevaeh," her name felt foreign on his tongue, but he noted the smile that tugged on her lips upon hearing it, "Don't talk to him. It's... it's fine. I... it's... it's important to me to fill out the casuality forms," he explained timidly.

Sensing there was more to this, Nevaeh didn't move or speak. She simply searched his eyes and waited. Upon noticing that she wouldn't back down, Rex visibly deflated. He leaned his hip against the railing and looked down again.

"It's the only time I get to mourn my brothers."

He truly expected her to say something that was meant to be uplifting. Sweet words that would make him offer a soft smile in return, but that had no real conviction behind them. Because how could they? Words couldn't bring back his brothers.

But Nevaeh didn't speak. Just squeezed his arm a little tighter, where his vambrace stopped and his blacks began.

Then it dawned on him. Her touch was there to support him. To make him feel less alone. To say what words couldn't. He offered a somber smile that she returned eagerly. Again, something stirred inside him, and he noticed a certain twinkle in her eye that he'd never seen before. His mouth went dry and his hands began feeling cold, even under his gloves.

"How many did we lose this time?" she asked mindfully, pulling away once the moment had passed.

The air around them was suddenly heavy with grief, as she allowed his feelings space, instead of trying to cheer him up. He hesitated before he answered. "About a company's worth of men that I know of so far. Maybe more, I haven't-," his voice caught in his throat briefly, "I haven't gotten around to going through all the med reports yet."

Next thing Rex knew Nevaeh's arms were around his neck and back and she was pulling him close. His bucket fell out of his hand and cluttered to the floor as he went stiff with shock.

"I'm so sorry, Rex," she said, her lips next to his ear.

Awkwardly, with his arms that had previously remained at his sides, he reached up to grab her biceps. He didn't know why, but he had to take a few deep breaths as emotion swelled up in his chest, threatening to spill out of his eyes. He blinked rapidly and softly took a step back from her, keeping her in place with a firm but gentle hold. He didn't want to push her away, but he hadn't exactly been prepared for the onslaught of feelings that her touch, even over his hard armor, could bring.

Even now, she remained close to him, as he tried desperately to keep his eyes dry by continuing to blink back his tears.

Her hands rested on his shoulders and since he didn't try to remove them, she left them there. She remained calm and steadfast, allowing him the moment he needed to get used to the new level of intimacy.

He caught himself briefly wondering what it would be like if he could actually feel her skin against his own and as if she could read his mind she reached up slowly.

At first it was only her knuckles, brushing ever so gently against his cheek, but it caused him to audibly gasp. His eyes widened, as chills ran up and down his spine and he felt goosebumps forming on his arms below his armor.

She then opened her hand, to let her palm rest on his jaw, her thumb continuing the soft movement over his cheekbone that her knuckles had been performing before.

A fluttery feeling rose in his stomach as his knees grew weak and his face turned hot. Instinctively, his eyes fluttered close and he leaned into her touch, her hands now feeling much warmer than before.

She ran her index finger down the outside of his ear and chuckled. "Your ears are red."

His eyes flew open again. "Uh... sorry, Sir," he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

"Nevaeh," she corrected gently.

"Nevaeh, right. Sorry," he repeated.

"Don't be sorry." Her thumb traveled down until it was under his chin. Gently, she lifted it to meet his eye. "I think I'm starting to understand now."

And once again, she was wrapping her arms around him, chin on his shoulder. And this time, he didn't fight it. His arms grabbed her waist and back and he pulled her tightly against him, pressing his face into her neck. He breathed in her sweet scent and released a shuddering breath.

They stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. Two soldiers, united through war, with the knowledge that it will be war that tears them apart again, as it had too many times before.

#hope yall enjoy :)#and srsly Saturn ur a BLESSING #captain rex #captain rex x oc #captain rex x f!oc #captain rex fluff #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #clones #swtcw #star wars the clone wars #phie writes stuff

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franklinbadge · 1 year

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A Critic's Review of a Psych Ward

It was during my second stint in the behavioral health unit at Newport Hospital when I finally came to the conclusion that, possibly, episodes of psychosis might not be for me. The multiple bruises on my arms from what only could be graded as amateurish IV placements, and the remnants of adhesive from dozens of EKG leads were nowhere near the style of fashion found on the runways from Paris to Milan this season (or any). The bright yellow wristband alerting those in close proximity to my person that I am very likely to be a fall risk is something I may continue to accessorize with, however. An earnest warning to those around me of my clumsy nature, and also a statement piece that will add to any outfit a certain je ne sais quoi; If only it came in a Tiffany blue. The fare was adequately acceptable, if a bit predictable after a few days. The Michelin guide may miss it, for good enough reasons, the plating alone is more assembly line than artisan. But, as with most cuisine in need of a little something extra, it was nothing a little salt and pepper couldn't fix. The accommodations would be, at best, described as spartan. The long twin mattresses in each room covered in sheets with a thread count hovering somewhere in the double digits. The synthetic material were obviously chosen not for it's luxurious comfort, but for their protective properties against any accidents which may occur around those with impaired cognitive abilities. Entertainment offerings were mostly confined to dual television rooms in each of the main hallways.One is in a larger common area with plenty of less than comfortable seating options, and large windows overlooking the harbour with a view of one of the main thoroughfares of the city. The other, a much smaller room offering half of the number of equally ergonomically-lacking chairs, but often times a respite of solitude in the often well-populated unit. The view offered by the single window as the first light of dawn touches the many church spires and treetops as it makes it's way down to the gables of the houses making up the mostly residential neighbourhood of North Broadway is a life-affirming way to start the day. For the remainder of the daylight hours, however, the view of a liquor store parking lot and one of - if not the - least appetizing pizza establishments in the city is little to write home about. But being on the top floor of the highest structure in the city definitely has it's perks come the hours around sunset. The window at the end of the first main hallway has an unmatched view of the Claiborne Pell Newport Bridge. From twilight up until the last light of dusk, the lucky few viewers who situate themselves in that alcove are treated to a slow burn of dazzling colour changes as the sun, clouds, ans atmosphere combine to put on a show with unparalleled uniqueness every time the last remains of the day fall below the horizon. The evening brings a sparkling display of lights on the bridge, with it a peak and slow wane in the ingress and egress of traffic between Newport and Jamestown. It is also around this time that the floor itself livens up, with visiting hours bringing smiles and hugs from outside these walls, breaking up the doldrums of the routine conversations and behaviors of the inhabitants of the unit, no matter how long or brief their stay. As the evening fades, some make their way to an early slumber, some continue the conversations of the day, and other look forward to a televised show or sporting event for the remainder of their night. The still of these late hours only broken up by regular safety and wellness checks by the nurses whose step counts easily reach twenty thousand in a shift. The quiet remains until the break of the next day's morning starts the going on with the floor all over again. I can only give my most highly esteemed rating and recommendation, because I am still here. And I am very glad to still be here. Thank you. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#mental health #behavioral health #therapy

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fuck-customers · 3 years

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idk if this is the place to complain about this but man i am still so angry about this. this is mostly me complaining about bad management but it involves someone who SHOULD NOT have been allowed to bank with us but it requires a lot of context for how screwed up this was so apologies

i got hired for a financial institution despite having no prior experience in banking, which is fine because i'm pretty quick on the uptake and i learn new things pretty easily so i tend to not struggle so long as i know the general idea of what i'm doing. the training at this place was abysmal and the company knew it because they were talking about completely restructuring how it was done since none of the new hires were learning anything, but basically the headquarters was located in a different city so for our area they had to do a zoom call for 8 hours a day for a week straight while the trainer was in the other city in a classroom with other new hires who were clearly the priority, and she was so disconnected from how the company operated and a lot of the processes she taught us were irrelevant and/or outdated based on our branch

(for instance she taught us very explicitly how to handle our cash drawers but the branches i worked at didn't HAVE cash drawers and the one i did end up going to for one shift to help out had a cash drawer that operated entirely differently than how she taught us. she was also very clear on us having a super strict dress code, especially regarding tattoos, and that any exposed tattoos were absolutely against company protocol but then that branch i went to that had a cash drawer had every single employee with at least one fully exposed tattoo, which i don't care about i think that's super cool especially since one of the employees was a much older woman who was talking about saving up for a new one soon, but this is just a testament to how disconnected and inaccurate the training was)

and the worst part is that when we were finally out of training, the employees and managers at our branches once we were let loose made it clear they had no interest in training us further. when i had a customer come in who had a specific issue they needed resolving, i'd have to run to go grab someone to let me know what exactly i needed to do, but they wouldn't really, like. explain it. it's hard to describe without going into detail but they'd basically just say the name of the form you needed to print out, not what it was or what it was for or where to find it, and they talked to me like i already knew about this stuff and that i was asking an unnecessary question. and then i'd get reprimanded for not printing out the appropriate sheet to go into scanning for our back-end to properly update and catalogue the customer's activity even though no one told me. i didn't have anything properly explained to me because of how bad training was, we were taught so many useless things there because every single branch operated entirely differently but the individual branches would not actually teach you how they did the job in a way that you actually understood

i'll end the exposition with saying that of the four new hires, including myself, the only two who are having any modicum of success are the female banker who previous worked with car loans, and the female teller who'd been in banking for 8 years before being hired for this place. there's an older male banker who'd been a manager at a retail store for 30 years which is incredible, and he still has no idea what he's doing and they're probably going to let him go soon, and then there's me, who got fired because of a mistake they made during their second week on the floor

there was this customer who came in who wanted to have a larger check deposited, but during training the protocol told to us about holding checks was mostly just telling us what amount gets held and for how long. if a check is over a certain amount (which hers was) you have to manually type the check's information into the system to run it through, and depending on how it comes back, there are literally two big buttons on the screen. one is green that says "accept check" and the other is red that says "place hold on check" like i am not exaggerating, this is how the system's designed. i run her check through, i KNOW it has to have a hold placed on it and the system's even telling me to, so i hit the big red button that SAYS "PLACE HOLD ON CHECK" thinking oh so innocently that it'd, you know. PLACE THE HOLD ON THE CHECK. then i scanned the check in and deposited it into her account because even when you're placing a hold on the check, you still have to do this since the system will release the money once the hold period's expired

a week later one of my managers calls me into his office and asks me why i didn't place the hold on her check. i told him i definitely did, i ran it through the system and knew that a hold had to be placed on it so i hit the big red button that says "place hold on check" and he goes on to say that there was no hold placed on the check and that he watched me on the camera footage to see i didn't ask anyone for help (why would i need to do that when there's a BIG. RED. BUTTON. THAT OOOOOH I CAN'T KEEP SAYING THIS) and since no hold was placed the member is now overdrawn over ten thousand dollars. okay. but i DID place a hold, so i don't have an answer for you. he tells me then that collections and fraud have to get involved in this to try to get the money back, and that i should have been paying more attention to the customer's account because if i'd gone to look into her notes then i'd have seen that she has a history of trying to cash bad checks and that she's cashed large faulty checks before and that this isn't the first time this has happened with her account, it's just the largest amount in which it's happened and that i'd have known this and i should have grabbed someone to help me with her if i'd gone into her account to look at her notes

ok so my question is: why the fuck was she allowed to bank with us then??? if she has a recognizable and repeated history of cashing bad checks to the point where i'd have needed a manager to help her anyway, then what the fuck is the point?? my manager would let people bank with us who would literally scream their heads off at him in front of other customers and he'd just laugh it off and let them keep banking with us, and one time a customer was screaming at the manager in his office so loudly that one of my coworkers was about to call the police, but he still let them bank with us. and like, they aren't causing us to lose money, their accounts were fine, but we aren't a big box retail store!! so why is he making us put up with this!! and why are people who have a documented history of causing us to lose money allowed to bank with us!! how is this my fault, ESPECIALLY SINCE I PLACED THE HOLD???

so then i asked them if i was being fired, or whatever, and they said they weren't sure and that they'd get back to me. another couple of weeks later i have a member come in who has some strange activity on his account, and the manager comes over and says i need to place a different kind of hold on his check since he didn't have a history of depositing them into his account. i see the manager doing it for me, and apparently

pressing the big fucking button that says "place hold on check" does absolutely nothing but let the manager know that you looked at the check

you have to go into an entirely separate menu that literally no one, not even the instructor during training, showed me how to do and no one even so much as mentioned it to me, so much so that i thought that the system would automatically flag the check to be held if it was after a certain amount and the policy on the hold for checks was just for us to know to be able to answer any of the customer's questions, since not a single soul showed me how to actually go in and manually place a hold on a check, and that's what the manager meant by me not placing the hold for that previous customer

so i explained this to him afterwards and i said "no one ever showed me that menu, and i just assumed that hitting the button placed the hold on and the system automatically knew how long to place the hold for" and he doubles down on how i should have looked at the member's notes and asked for help. that doesn't change the issue i had at all but thanks for the tip i guess

flash forward two months, at this point three tellers and one banker had quit at another branch and our area was down a considerable amount of employees. like to have a fully functioning branch you need four tellers and two bankers and this other branch was barely scraping by because of how many people they were down and how the company was having such a hard time getting anyone interested in applying for the positions. i go into work one morning and the first thing they tell me is that they're firing me because they couldn't get the money back. i really stress that no one told me how the hold system actually worked because the only thing that had ever been gone over with me was just the policy on how long items are held and not how to actually do it, so i assumed it was automatic. and my manager still says "you should have looked at her notes"

how in the world would looking at her notes say anything about how i'm supposed to manually place a hold? the problem was that you guys did such a poor job at training me that i made a big mistake on my second week on the floor because i was unsupervised and left with a customer who absolutely should not have been allowed to bank with us, and it took two months. two. months. to hear ANYTHING back about it. i know that they fired me because upper management would have reprimanded them because they knew i was unsupervised and poorly trained and that ended up costing the company a lot of money, so it was just to save their own hides. but the stupidest part is that there's a job shortage AND they're so understaffed that they'd need to essentially hire and train a whole new team to be able to operate a single branch, so instead of like. idk just putting me on probation or giving me one last chance they just straight up fire me and make it even harder for everyone else because now they have one less person, and the funny part about all this is that they're trying to open up another branch in my area, which will be great to see how that ends up working out since one branch is barely operable

management knew how bad training was when they saw how big of a mistake i made during my second week there because i was so poorly equipped to handle the job and i had nothing properly explained to me. i was left with a customer that should not have been allowed to have an account with us, and because they knew how badly they screwed up, i was the one to be let go so that the managers could keep their positions. instead of owning up to it though they had vague talks of restructuring their training course because it's so badly done that if you get hired at this place without any prior experience in banking, you're basically being set up for failure. they have no intention of training you if you don't already know what you're doing, and their negligence causing you to make mistakes is your fault because you should have "paid better attention". man fuck this place, i have never worked anywhere this disorganized

#submissions #fuck customers #fuck managers

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thebountyfucker · 3 years

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Kyuzo/Phatrong Headcanon Masterpost

I created a post similar to this on my main blog @kyuzan-queen years ago and wanted to give it a refresh!

Included in this post:

Kyuzan biology (does include NSFW elements) Culture: Clothing, Music/Art, Religion, Familial culture, Politics, and life of Phatrong

Kyuzoni biology:

The Kyuzo are an omnivorous (carnivorous-leaning) reptilian species. They sport a mouthful of sharp fangs and a long tongue. While they are reptilian, they are warm blooded and do not lay eggs. Because of Phatrong's inconsistent weather, Kyuzo evolved to be able to maintain and regulate their own body temperatures. Their bodies can accept a shift in temperature of about 20 degrees Fahrenheit before it starts to affect them. They, like cold-blooded reptiles, do enjoy sunning/basking. It's good for their mental health and other bodily processes!

Kyuzos also evolved to carry pregnancies and give live births, also because of the weather. The process of Kyuzan pregnancy is awkward and painful, though, and mortality rates for mothers are quite high.

Kyuzo skin is rough, but not scaly like Trandoshans. Skin colors can range anywhere from green, to yellow, to blue and in between. However, those who are purely yellow or blue have a common pigmentation disorder. Their health is not negatively affected because of this, although people might treat them differently depending on where they live.

All Phatrongi Kyuzo are born with honeycomb eyes, that can be any color. Their eyes tend to glow in the dark, and they can see in the dark better than most humanoids.

Other than having slightly wider hips, cis females are very similar to cis males. Cis females do not have breasts or any noticeable secondary sex traits. While cis males tend to be a bit taller and wider framed, its not uncommon for cis females to have those traits, and vice versa. Intersex Kyuzo are common. Gender is very fluid among the Kyuzo, as parents tend to raise their children without a defined gender; when the child is of age, they get to decided what their gender is. Thus, being trans or nonbinary is prevalent.

The Kyuzo can be up to 7′6″ tall, with most falling in the 6′ to 6′6″ range. They tend to have larger frames than humans but are considerably more agile.

The weakest part of the Kyuzo is their lungs; if there is too much moisture in the air, they can easily contract pneumonia. Too little oxygen in the air and they’ll suffocate. Thus the reason they wear masks off planet.

Kyuzo, beyond that, are an incredibly hearty species that can live upward of three hundred years. After reaching sexual maturity at around young adulthood, their aging slows down. Whatever kills them before old age is usually attributed to their lungs or more physical means. They can contract other diseases, but they are usually nonfatal. Usually.

They have an amazing amount of stamina and can run at speeds that are hard for most humanoids to attain. They, unfortunately, have high pain tolerances and a hard time receiving fatigue messages to the brain, and this generally spells out problems. Kyuzos have been known to run themselves to death - literally. It’s not uncommon for families to find the bodies of missing members hundreds of miles away from where they were last seen. They have to make a very conscious effort to stop, or they won’t.

Kyuzo are much stronger than other humanoids, and can jump higher. Most outsiders confuse them as force sensitives for this reason. Kyuzos can be Force-sensitive, but it's rare to find Kyuzo Jedi.

Kyuzan cocks are long, with a tapered head. Most cocks have ridges or nodes on the top that would expand when inside a Kyuzan pussy. These nodes would help to anchor the cock inside. However, when fucking a near-human, these nodes/ridges tend to only work as extra sensation against the g-spot and a-spot.

Culture:

Clothing:

Most feminine presenting Kyuzo wear headwraps/headdresses. Other than displaying wealth and covering cold heads, there isn’t much of a reason that they wear the headdresses. It’s not required, but most feminine presenting people wear them because they grew up seeing other feminine presenting people wearing them. If one is wealthy, their headdresses will tend to be large and elaborate; it’s not uncommon for one to wear a headdress that is pounds upon pounds of metals, jewels, and cloth. Poorer feminine presenting people generally just wear cloth, or nothing at all.

Kyuzoni clothing is colorful and flowy; people wear very similar clothing, no matter what gender they are. Dresses and skirts are very common, and people will generally go topless. While most colors are okay to use, there are certain colors that are not used in everyday clothing, such as purple, light blue, gold, and white; the Kyuzo place sacred meaning in some colors, so they are only supposed to be used for special events.

Phatrong’s army/police force wear loose, non-restricting clothing with a leather-like armor covering their chests. Their family’s crest is painted upon the armor, in case that the warrior is killed in action. Their clothing is trimmed in gold, which represents bravery and wisdom.

Light blue cloth, specifically headwraps or shirts, signify that a wedding is approaching. Purple is a wedding color, as it signifies prosperity and commitment; wedding clothes are trimmed with silver. White is only used for funerals or births, as it signifies both death and the innocence of new life.

Music/Art:

Music on Phatrong generally revolves around stringed instruments and percussion instruments; they don’t generally listen to music for leisure. Music is only played at festivals, and generally tells the stories of ancient heroes and gods. The Kyuzo also create dances to these story-songs, to make things more dramatic.

Art varies around Phatrong. By the oceans, it’s mostly glass-work like beads and giant stained glass windows. Those Kyuzo that live by the rivers create pottery. Richer families will paint large murals that will cover the walls of their homes. These murals tell tales of their gods, but more often than not they are used almost like photographs that capture small moments in the lives of the family. Jewelry making is also common.

Religion:

The Kyuzo believe in a polytheistic system; the most prominent goddess is Vohaoya (Vo-ha-oy-ah), the mother of the gods and creator of worlds. She represents women, fertility, life, and nature; she is described as having a mostly Kyuzoni appearance, with three eyes and four arms. Often, she is shown in art or statues sitting cross-legged, cradling Phatrong in her lap; her arms are either pointing toward the sky, or she is making gestures with her hands. Her bottom arms are often portrayed as laying flat against her legs with palms upturned - this relays openness. Her left top arm is often resting on the planet, which portrays her protective nature. And her right top arm is often pointed upward, her pointer finger curling in toward her palm while the rest of her fingers are outstretched; this is a symbol of love for the Kyuzo. Her statues are mostly made out of gold, but are painted with the likeness of galaxies; some people swear that the stars shift in the right light.

Other more minor deities include Ixpi, the goddess of peace, and her brother Echting, the god of war. Because the Kyuzo like to believe that they are a peaceful race, Echting is often described as a villain. Ixpi is described as a small, rainbow-colored being that floats rather than walks; besides being the goddess of peace, she is also a patron of happiness, sunrise, and the LGBT community on Phatrong. Echting is also the god of destruction, mayhem, and storms; he is often described as a fiery being too bright to look at. He is surrounded by lightning and is easily angered.

There are temples, wherein these gods can be worshipped. The temples are all large and ornate, made usually of marble or wood. The temples for Vohaoya and Ixpi are run exclusively by priestesses, and though men can worship there, men cannot serve the goddesses. Men can work at the temples of Echting, but not many do, given the god's bad reputation.

Legend has it that Vohaoya created the Warriors of old to protect the gods from those that wished to harm them. They were created from the rich soil, and they were considered divine beings. In the modern era of Phatrong, it is still considered one of the highest honors to be a Warrior.

Life on Phatrong:

The Kyuzo tend to live in large villages or the few small cities around the planet; those who are born into the more obscure villages often never leave the villages.

Villages are generally comprised of thousands of people, all of which are extended family members. Separate families can have more than twenty-five members, all living in one house. Villagers take turns tending to the communal farm, which produces most of their food and fibers for clothing; to supplement the farm, they also forage, hunt, and fish.

Village born Kyuzo are very secluded, only working with neighboring villages to marry off their children. Because of their seclusion, they are the more suspicious and less educated than their city counterparts. Knowledge is passed down through the generations as those born in the villages don’t have access to teachers. At most, they know Kyuzoni and basic math: they are instead taught more practical skills, like sewing, cooking, cleaning, and animal husbandry.

There are two ‘real’ cities on Phatrong, Shutalo and Shouji; Shutalo (Shoo-tah-loh) is the capital city, to the north. Shouji (Show-zhee) is a large industrial city in the southern hemisphere. Any outside trade is limited to these two areas.

Kyuzo that live in the city tend to have smaller families, with about six members at the most. The Kyuzo in the cities have actual jobs, but they don’t make money; they are given items of use instead. (Think of bartering, almost. If they work at a textile store, they are given cloth, which can then be traded for food, etc.) Villages that have produced too much food or are in need of other items will sell food to the city folk.

City Kyuzo have better access to education, although it’s still not the best in the galaxy. Most city Kyuzo learn things like writing, higher levels of math, and an objective look on the planet’s history. Kyuzo that wish to learn beyond that must travel off planet.

It’s extremely difficult for Kyuzos to speak Basic, just because Kyuzoni and Basic are so different. It can take years and years just to get the verbal language down, and that doesn’t count how long it takes for them to learn to read Aurebesh. If the Kyuzo do manage to figure out how to speak Basic, they have thick accents that are often hard to understand, thus making them vulnerable to mockery.

Politics:

Politics on Phatrong are strange as the government actually doesn’t do much. The senate, located in Shutalo, is a group of Kyuzo (and a few Kataline) from various villages and cities that are there to set basic laws so that they can have a seat in the Council of Neutral Systems. Really, the various villages will set their own rules, and as long as it doesn’t interfere with the senate, they’re generally alright with it. (A law would include: Murder is punishable by death. But their definition of murder is loose and up to interpretation.)

Kyuzo children (generally young men but it’s not limited to males) learn to fight from the moment they can understand. The Kyuzo, although a generally ‘peaceful’ race, train their children to become a quasi-army/police force. The most promising fighters are then shipped off to various academies around Phatrong to train with masters to hone their skills. Many children, as a result of poor quality of life at the academies and dangerous fighting practices, end up dying. It is rare that the academies are punished. The children that make it then must complete a three-year stint as an active warrior; those who passed but are not necessarily promising are sent to protect sacred temples. Those who show a certain level of finesse can continue to climb the ranks until they are high-ranking military officials. They act more like a police force than a military, but they have the training just in case.

Marriage and Family Life:

Kyuzo children are often promised to each other at birth; throughout their childhoods, they get to meet and connect with their betrothed. They generally marry at eighteen, with a week-long festival preceding it. Certain wives -ones that are ordained from birth by priestesses- are considered sacred embodiments of the Goddess Vohaoya, and are limited to bearing five children; superstition says that having too many children will thin out the wife’s existence. Daughters are vitally important to carry on their mother’s bloodline.

Because Kyuzo value large family, a husband will take a wetzandi as well; a wetzandi, or birth maid, is a younger woman who births the rest of a man’s children. A wetzandi is someone who is generally caught bedding out of wedlock, or has committed some other small crime against the goddesses. Unfortunately, they are not valued by most, and are treated as little more than breeding stock.

#most of this is old stuff but there is so new info here!#kyuzo #my headcanons #iri headcanons #star wars #star wars headcanons

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themanicmagician · 4 years

Text

Shipwrecked [3/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

“What is this supposed to be?”

Tom eyed the frilly cocktail Redd had pushed into his hand. It was a swirl of blue and seafoam green, complete with a tiny toothpick umbrella spearing a pineapple wedge.

“Vacation Juice.”

“But we’re not on a—”

“It’s just a name. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tom took a small sip. It tasted like pears. Very, very sugary pears. He couldn’t even taste the alcohol. As he took a second, larger sip, Redd said: “Told you you’d like it.”

Tom rolled his eyes, not gracing Redd with a response. He swallowed another mouthful of the “juice” as he glanced around the bar. It wasn’t one of their typical haunts. Drinking out in the city was always expensive, so they tended towards establishments with long, generous happy hours, and cheap brews to go along with. The bar they were in now—Tom had already forgotten the name—was a touch fancier. The drinks were all cocktails with themed names. The drinks were served in small portions, and the prices were obscene, but they were celebrating, after all. They could splurge, just a little, just tonight.

The bar was miraculously uncrowded. Tom and Redd had even managed to secure a corner table all for themselves. The lighting was dim, intimate. They were surrounded mostly by other couples, each pair focused on each other rather than a game on TV.

This was Tom’s third drink in under an hour, and he was getting to that pleasant, loose phase of drunkenness. He watched Redd swallow, observed the slow bob of his throat as he drank. He was struck by a bolt of desire. He wanted to trace the movement with his tongue. Tom shifted on his stool.

Redd’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. His cool demeanor slipped, his eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s the landlord for the building!” He told Tom before he hurriedly took the call. “Hi! Phil, how’s it going? No, no it’s not a bad time at all.”

Redd hunched down, pressing the phone close to his ear to listen over the booming music.

“...Really? Oh—Oh no, that’s not a problem at all.”

Redd’s expression twisted briefly in distress. Tom’s stomach lurched with sudden, strong anxiety. What was the landlord saying? It was maddening, only being able to hear half of the conversation. He leaned closer, but could barely hear the tinny voice coming from Redd’s phone.

“Of course. I’ll get it to you tonight. Yes. You too. Ciao.”

Redd hung up, and sighed. When he didn’t immediately launch into an explanation, Tom blurted: “Well?”

Redd combed a paw through the fur on his head with agitation. It made his sleek fur stick up at odd angles, but Redd didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“The landlord, he got another offer on the store. Says if we still want it we’ll have to pay the first six months—up front.”

Tom swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He downed the rest of his Vacation Juice.

“I have some money put away, but not nearly enough for all that time.” Redd frowned. “But if I don’t get it to him tonight, we lose the place.”

“Well, how much is six months’ rent?”

“Everything included—all the fees, insurance, utilities and everything—it’ll be 200,000 bells. And I already went and spent most of my money getting us the stock. I can’t get a refund now.” He laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “We’ll have all this furniture and nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you need?”

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Redd. We’re partners, right? How much do you need?”

The fox shifted on his stool.

“...It’s too much to ask of you.” Redd mumbled, eventually.

“Redd.”

“Fine, fine. I only have about 15k bells left in my account right now.”

Tom brought out his own phone. It took a few clumsy tries for him to unlock it. He had just enough in his account to cover the remainder, built up from the months of pitching and selling ideas to businesses. This would drain nearly all of Tom’s savings, but it was an investment. It was worth it. Besides, they’d make it up and then some when their store opened.

“I can transfer it over right now.” Tom smiled. “Though I’m afraid we’ll have to switch to ramen and tap water for a while.”

“I could kiss you.” Redd said.

“What’s stopping you?”

After a sloppy kiss that tasted of pears and apples, Tom drained his account for the deposit. Redd called Phil back to confirm the transfer was a success. Once the landlord confirmed, Redd pulled Tom from the bar, hand in hand. They couldn’t really afford to buy more fancy cocktails, but there was a full bottle of sake at home, calling their name.

~*~

Tom awoke with a thunderous headache. He groaned, pinching two fingers to the ridge of his nose. He warily opened his eyes a few centimeters, then slammed them shut again. Nausea churned in his gut. He took a moment to just lay there, and prayed for his insides to stop revolting. How much had they had to drink last night? It was a blur. Tom had been feeling buzzed already from the cocktails and then the sake had gone and punched straight holes through his memory. He remembered snatches of moments, of sensations. Raking his paws through Redd’s fur, feeling the corded muscles beneath as they shifted. The sweet taste of Redd’s mouth on his, the triumph of finally marking up that exposed throat. The way that Redd, always so perfect and composed, became a stuttering, breathy mess as they made love. Then, a whole lot of nothing.

“Redd?” Tom moaned feebly. The fox handled his liquor a thousand times better than he did. He could entreat his partner to get up and fetch him some water. He flailed out blindly, reaching, but his hand encountered no fox.

Tom opened his eyes again, with heavy reluctance. He was alone in the bed. He swept his paw over the sheets. They were cool.

Tom spilled clumsily over the side of the bed to reach his pants, which were in a crumpled heap on the bedroom floor. He rooted around in his pockets until he found his phone. The time blared at him, like a condemnation: 10:05 a.m. For someone that normally got up for the day at 6, it was sacrilege.

Standing upright was a mistake. Dizziness and nausea slammed into him immediately. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was puking. He hadn’t really had much to eat yesterday, so all that came up was stringy bile. He flushed the mess down and rested his head for a minute against the cool bathroom cabinet.

He was surprised Redd hadn’t come to investigate, considering the amount of noise Tom was making.

“Redd?” He croaked.

There was no reply.

Tom sat for a moment more, until he was certain he wouldn’t neat the toilet again. He levered himself upright, bracing himself on the sink.

He shuffled out of the bathroom, and went into the area comprised of their kitchenette and living room. Redd was still nowhere to be found. And there was something...off. It took him a moment, and then he realized: Redd’s stuff was missing. His artwork that’d been scattered around, his books, they were gone. Tom checked their bedroom. Tom’s things were neatly folded in the drawers, but there was an empty gap where Redd’s clothes had once been.

Had something happened to Redd? Heart pounding with confusion and fear, he dialed Redd’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. He called again; same result.

After the beep, he left a message, his voice audibly shaky. “H-Hey, it’s Tom. Call me when you get this, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

Tom returned to the living room, and paced anxiously until his attention was caught by a white envelope. It was resting on the floor, by the front door. Someone must have slipped it underneath.

The envelope was addressed to Redd, but Tom broke the seal anyway, hoping whatever was inside would provide answers.

Inside was a final eviction notice.

According to it, Redd was three months past due on rent, and had until the end of the week to move out his stuff before it was thrown out by management.

Tom was breathing fast, now. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. This didn’t make sense. Redd had afforded this apartment for years before Tom had moved in. And as soon as Tom began making money he contributed half of the rent. He gave the bells over to Redd and assumed he’d take care of it. Redd had money before they’d poured most of their shared earnings into their store, so why—?

The eviction notice was starting to crumple in his shaking grip. He set it aside on the kitchen island.

He needed to find Redd. He needed to talk to him. There was probably some simple explanation for all of this that Tom just couldn’t see right now. Redd would explain, would tease him for getting all worked up about nothing. Or, or maybe this had been premeditated. Maybe he’d taken Tom’s money for months and then—

Tom yanked on his pants, and a shirt, and dashed out of the apartment. Redd wasn’t home, but there was one other place he might be at this hour.

Tom ran to their store. Animals gave him odd looks as he passed them, but he paid them no attention. He wasn’t built for running, especially not over long distances. He was soon panting and wheezing, sweat slicking his shirt to his back, but he didn’t slow. The walking sign switched to a red hand but Tom kept running, ignoring the resultant yells and curses spat at him from nearby cars as they were forced to swerve around him.

He reached the store at last—and his heart dropped to his stomach. The entire area was roped off. There were large heavy construction machines, including a crane with a wrecking ball at the end of it.

Tom ducked under the tape and tried to run inside, but was grabbed by one of the construction workers.

“Hey, hey!” The bulldog barked. “You crazy? You can’t go in there, they’re about to bust it down.”

“That’s my store!” Tom yelled. “What are you doing, that’s my property!”

“This place has been foreclosed on for over a year now.” The worker replied, bewildered. “It’s been slated for demolition. Gonna squeeze another high-rise in there.”

“But—But—”

The key in his pocket was freshly cut. If the place had been abandoned, it would’ve been relatively simple for Redd to install a new lock on the place. To add a layer of credibility to the entire request, to allow Tom to hope.

Tom was no longer resisting, so the bulldog released his grip on Tom’s shirt.

“You should step back, kid. It’s going to get real dusty here in a minute.”

He threw one last perplexed look at Tom before he rejoined his crew members.

Tom retreated behind the tape, and watched as the wrecking ball swung out, and smashed the front of the building inwards. His eyes watered, then, but not from the resultant dust.

~*~

He didn’t return to the apartment. He didn’t want anything they’d shared, or that would remind him of Redd.

He walked to the train station in a daze, only pausing to chuck his apartment and store keys in the trash.

Tom didn’t have much remaining in his account, but Redd had at least left him enough to purchase a one-way ticket back to his hometown. The train was the same make and model as the one that’d brought him here, six months ago.

Tom sat at a free window seat, and rested his cheek against the window. The glass was a bit smudged and sticky, likely from a child’s hands, but Tom left his head where it was.

The train came alive with a jolt. Soon the skyscrapers gave way to houses. Gradually, the houses became further and further spaced out, and the forest grew denser. He drank in the sight of green foliage greedily, like a man given water after days in the desert. He hadn’t realized, until now, how much he hated the gray of steel, the tan of concrete, the black of asphalt.

The train stopped intermittently. Tom did not pay attention to the conductor’s voice over the loudspeaker, as his was the very last stop on the line.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

It took half a moment for Tom to recognize that he was being spoken to. He pulled his gaze sluggishly away from the window. A blue and white cat stood there, smiling down at him, seemingly unperturbed by Tom’s dour mood. Tom shrugged, not really caring what the cat did. He slid into the seat beside Tom.

“I’m Rover.” He beamed. Tom wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, scream that it wasn’t fair, how dare he smile like that when Tom had been through hell.

“...Tom.” He admitted, eventually, in the expectant silence.

“Pleasure. So, where you headed?”

“Home.”

He understood it now. He wasn’t meant for city life, for a place that cradled you when you could provide it value, then dropped you into the dirt after.

“Took a day trip to the city, eh?”

Tom grunted.

“What a place! Fun to visit now and again, but I’d never live there, personally.”

“Me neither.” Tom agreed.

Rover filled the trip with largely one-sided chatter until he hopped off, three stops before Tom’s.

“Safe travels, friend! I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”

Tom mustered up a wave for him.

The train pulled into its final station a little after noon. Hardly anyone was left on the train. As Tom left the station, he passed a few elderly couples, some younger animals psyching themselves up for a nature hike.

There weren’t cabs this far out, so Tom walked. It reminded him somewhat of his first day in the city, fraught as it was with exhaustion and confusion as he plodded down street after street. At least this time he walked with certainty. Starved of entertainment as a child, he’d explore the entire town enough times he could navigate it blind.

He wasn’t surprised to discover nothing had changed here. He hadn’t been gone that long, all told, and change came at a glacial pace in his hometown. There were the same trees, unchanging storefronts. Though he supposed there was perhaps a bit more peeling paint on the general store sign than the last time he’d seen it. The store had been owned by Gran Bluebell since before Tom was a kit. It was no great shock she didn’t bother with touching up the hard to reach sign at her age.

People recognized him. Welcomed him. Assumed he was just here for a visit. Tom smiled at them, and exchanged pleasantries but no meaningful information on his side. Humiliation burned his face like a hot brand. He could hardly admit to himself that he’d failed, let alone to them. They’d sympathize, express their condolences—but past their commiserating veneer would be a sick kind of satisfaction. I knew you’d never make it out there. You thought you were better than us? Smarter? We’re all stuck here in this town for a reason.

Had the city soured his optimistic, rosy view of others? Perhaps it had. Could he truly be blamed, though? With pessimism, you expected the worst out of others. You could never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised.

At length, Tom reached his destination. It was a house on the end of the row. One story, cream-colored. The doorbell had stopped working years ago, so Tom rapped on the door. He heard the shuffle of feet over wood, and then the door creaked open.

Sable’s eyes widened. She shut the door again to unhook the chain lock, and then threw it wide open. Tom could see a slice of the kitchen from his current vantage point. Mabel was strapped into her highchair, gleefully smashing peas into paste on the tray in front of her, babbling nonsense. Label was peering at him with large, dark eyes, half-hidden behind the frayed couch.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” Sable swept a critical eye over him, noting his lack of luggage.

Tom saw telltale signs of strain in his friend’s features. The circles beneath her eyes, the unkemptness of her quills, the stains, fresh and old on her apron. He shouldn’t bother her with his problems. But he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Tom?”

She cupped his chin, lifted his head up so he met her gaze.

“What happened?”

Tom broke. He surged forward, wrapping Sable in a tight embrace. Sable hesitated only the briefest moment before she encircled her arms around him, stroking his back soothingly.

“Sable,” He choked out.

“It’s okay now.” Her tone was soothing and soft. “Let it out.”

He buried his head in her shoulder, and wept.

~*~

Tom was rooted in place. Redd was gone, again. Without a trace, without a word.

He was being stupid. He was overreacting. Where could Redd go, really? The island wasn’t that large.

He knew this, logically, and yet his heart was pounding like a drum, his paws, clammy. He couldn’t help the irrational fear that history was repeating itself.

He managed to break through the panic which had seized him to return downstairs. He entered the Cranny. Timmy and Tommy swiveled away from their conversation with Fang.

“Have you seen Redd?” Tom blurted.

The twins shook their heads in unison, but the old wolf scrunched up his forehead in thought.

“The little red fella?” Fang rumbled. Tom nodded. “Think I saw him on my way in. Headed northwards, cha-chomp.”

“Should we look too?”

“...too?”

“No, boys. Mind the shop. I’ll find him.”

Tom waited until he was out of sight of anyone inside the store before he broke into a jog. He crossed over the bridge that connected the main swatch of Bastion to the smaller crescent of land to the north. Alex had left most of this land to the wilds. There was a grove of multicolored hyacinths, encircled by pear trees. Bastion’s lighthouse was posted on the edge of the water. There was no other sign of civilization out here—save for Flurry’s house.

Tom hurried up to the house, and was about to knock when the door swung open. Redd was exiting, a new book tucked under his arm. Flurry was behind him, wringing her tiny paws.

“You’re sure I can’t carry it for you?” She fretted.

“The book weighs more than you do. I can handle it, no problem.”

Redd was facing Flurry; he hadn’t seen Tom yet. He was speaking in that tone of voice, the same one he’d had with the boys, before Tom interrupted. Something soft, kind.

Then Redd turned to see Tom, and the gentle look on his face vanished, replaced by something charming and fake.

“Come to escort me home? How gentlemanly of you, Mr. Nook.” Redd batted his eyelashes obnoxiously. Flurry giggled.

Tom gave a short nod to the hamster before she shut the door. Tom waited until they were in the hyacinth field, far enough away from Flurry’s house, to speak.

“You can’t just—just leave without telling me.”

Redd snorted. “I’m not one of your adopted kiddos.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and with some annoyance, he added, “What, you can’t trust me to be on my own, is that it? Think I’m always up to no good?”

“You’re hurt and you don’t know the island. You can’t just go off on your own.”

“Please, Tom. Don’t bother with all this. You don’t care about me, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“That’s not what I—you’re so—!” Tom clamped his mouth shut. He took a deep breath, which didn’t do as much to calm him as he would have liked. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. You were just gone, and I panicked.”

Tom was surprised as that seemed to set Redd off. “Oh, panicked, did you? How do you think I felt when you left New Leaf, without telling me? I had to hear it from Chadder—Chadder, of all people!—that you’ve just run off to some deserted island, on your own. There are tarantulas out here, Tom. Tarantulas!”

“And scorpions,” Tom added, helpfully. Redd glowered at him. “I was expanding my business into travel. Not that you’d know anything about innovation.”

“You learned all you know from me!”

“Hardly!” Tom scoffed. “I taught myself everything after you stole from me. My first shop was made out of scrap metal and wood from the dump, and look at me now. Whereas you, Redd,” He jabbed the fox in the chest. “You just jump from one scam to the next, and don’t care who you hurt in the process.”

Redd flinched back. “I’m not. I’m not like that anymore. I—look. I might have. Lied. Before.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Tom said, waspishly.

“Guess I deserve that one.” Redd shifted his weight uneasily. “I’m talking about the art. It is real, like I said. Spent almost every bell I got to acquire it all. But I wasn’t planning to scam anyone with it. I wasn’t going to go island to island to sell people replicas. I just wanted to come here. Where you are.”

Tom’s ire drained, supplanted by confusion. He said nothing, and Redd took that as permission to continue.

“I was going to swing by once a week. Give a new piece of art to that human kid every time, because I know Blabbers—”

“Blathers.”

“—would want them all displayed in his museum. And over time, you’d get used to seeing me around. And there’d be no stories about fakes for you to hear. And maybe you’d…” Redd sighed. He looked up at Tom with an earnestness the raccoon had never seen from him before. “I scammed a lot of guys before you. A lot of them were like you—new to the city, hopelessly clueless, grateful for any scrap of guidance. But you were different. I...I do regret what happened between us. What I did to you. It still haunts me.”

“So why did you?” Tom asked, softly. “You know that I loved you.”

Redd’s face twisted in anguish. “I did know. I hate myself every day for ruining what we had. And the worst part is I can’t tell you why I did it. A part of me, a big part of me, didn’t want to. But it was what I’d always done. I didn’t grow up in a nice place, or in a nice home. I learned how to con, how to lie and cheat and survive. I learned how to take care of myself, because no one else was going to. And then you came along, and you didn’t want to use me, and you were clever, and wanted us to be partners, equals. You thought I could be that for you, that I could be up at as high a level as you are, and, and it scared me. It made me think that maybe I didn’t have to be that way anymore. I didn’t have to trick anyone ever again. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t change. I couldn’t make the leap. I fell into old habits, because they were secure, because I knew I could rely on the results. I knew I’d hurt you, but I did it anyway. Because I didn’t trust you, and I didn’t trust myself.”

Tom felt as if his heart was breaking again, but in a different way. Redd’s confession was a raw, sad thing.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I...I still want you in my life. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

There was a long silence between them. The hyacinths swayed gently around them in the cool sea breeze.

Redd had hurt Tom deeply. On one level, Tom did forgive him. Redd had suffered the consequences of his actions. He’d gained money, but he’d lost Tom’s affections, lost the chance for an honest living. On another level, Tom could not open his heart fully to the fox again. Redd claimed that he had changed, and he certainly seemed repentant. But they would remain only acquaintances, perhaps friends, at the most. He simply could not trust Redd to the extent he had in the past, and he doubted he ever would.

“What book did Flurry give you?”

“What? Oh.” Redd blinked. He checked the title. “Bark Antony and Kleopawtra.”

“Perhaps you could read it aloud to the kids, tonight. They’d like that.”

A tentative smile spread slowly across Redd’s face.

He accepted the olive branch.

“Fine, but you’re voicing Bark Antony.”

The pair of them returned to the Cranny, walking shoulder to shoulder.

#reddnook #tom nook #redd #ac #animal crossing #animal crossing: new horizons #my fic #also you know flurry was eavesdropping on that drama #with binoculars

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amysgiantbees · 3 years

Text

Head-cannons for me for MHA DND

Urarka is grey ace pan. She likes to perform cantrips or float a little to alleviate stress. Socialist, ACAB. Trains with Bakugo regularly, they’re very close friends. Her parents are poor builders. They live in the poor area of the city and do a lot of community and charity work.

Kirishima is a trans man. Loves meat, particularly red meat. Big protein guy. A whole homosexual. He has two mothers, one is a gladiator, the other is a stay at home mom. He does yoga and meditation. Absolute golden retriever, mourning person. He cracks his knuckles when stressed. Always goes for a mourning run. He knows how to speak Bakugo so he knows when is or isn’t being a dick.

Denki is nonbinary they/he, Bisexual. Denki loves flirting with people’s parents especially Bakugo’s. His parents are awful and resent him for being chosen by Kord as they are very stuffy, devout followers of him for years and never recieved similar attention. Dyslexic and ADHD - ticks ALL the boxes, like can pick up talents very quickly, like the lyre. Night owl, puts all his work off till night then sleeps till noon. Gets jitters and ticks when stressed. Massive flirt. No filter. Lack of self preservation. Would be a fantastic dancer if he didn’t overthink it so much. Was in Jiro’s band. Lichtenberg figure. When he short circuits it’s numbing. He can’t think and his thoughts come slowly too him at best. He often ends up drooling. He can’t focus on his surroundings. Can’t feel anything so people can easily take advantage. Usually can only form enough thoughts to reassure people and put his thumbs up to show he’s okay.

Sero is nonbinary, they/them. Demisexual panromantic. Skateboards exist just for Sero. He is from a large family. Two fathers, one mother. They’re part of a traveling commune. Sero is just sleepy, isn’t a morning or a night person. Best wingman, very observant. Very laidback. Rubs arm and elbow when stressed. His family are tattoo artists, did his elbow tattoos as his magic focusses before he left for high school.

Whole Bakusquad are Kord fans.

Mina is ace/aromantic. her parents are assassins' that specialize in poisonings. Night owl. Loves fashion, and visiting Bakugo’s parent’s store. Sensible one out of the Bakusquad. Bakugo is usually the brains behind their plans but she’s the primary authority on whether they go ahead. Kirishima tends to hesitate - look to others for advice, Sero hesitates too - wants to think it over and take his time, Denki just dives in on instinct - what feels right, Bakugo is impatient - does not hesitate at all and often doesn’t factor in people’s feelings. Mina is the perfect balance of everyone. Thinks it through, has good instincts, is brave, doesn’t need to ask but is open to suggestions.

Aoyama is gay. He has IBS (Alcohol, chocolate, caffeinated beverages are potential culprits as are certain types of carbohydrate known as FODMAPs). He massages his face when he’s stressed.

Tsuyu is ace and homoromantic. Her dad is a grung florist and her human mother is the accountant for the flower business. She has two little siblings, a twin brother and sister.

Jiro is a sex positive ace bisexual. Jiro’s family are very popular travelling bards. Songwriters too, they’ve patented songs. Night owl. She plays with her hair when stressed. Plays instruments to relax. Can get stage fright. Likes to sing to calm down people after a monster attack, help people with both her talents. Loves her parents.

Nejire Hado grew up as an orphan raised by the local temple of Sune. She has grown to have a stronger connection with Mystra now as she’s grown into her own person but she still loves and worships Sune. Nejire asks more questions than she answers. Gets over excited very easily.

Bakugo is pansexual - he just likes them strong. His mother is half-orc and a model and fashion designer for her and her husband’s clothing business. It’s called Green with Envy. Masaru has terrible shyness when it comes to modeling. So all of their clothing is made to be gender neutral and Mitiski models everything for the flyers and posters. Totally has ADHD, impulsivity, avoids lengthy tasks, feels restless, can’t stay seated. Never drinks, this man treats his body like a temple, he has a bed time, morning person. Bakugo cracks his neck and joints when stressed. Can play drums, was in Jiro’s band.

Tokoyami is ace and grey aromantic. He can play the lyre, was in Jiro’s band. Dark Shadow likes to collect shiny things. He pets and talks to her her when stressed. He loves poetry and ballads. Often spends nights in taverns listening to dark songs. Writes his own poetry. Only his best friend Shoji and crush Aoyama get to read it though and even then it’s very reluctantly.

Shoji is very nervous to date, very insecure. grey ace, panromantic.

Ojiro is pan. Everyone likes to play with his tail when he grows it. He plays with it when stressed.

Koda is ace and aromantic. Likes to hide, be somewhere small and confined when stressed. Terrified of bugs, but mostly just the crawly, scary ones.

Sato is grey ace aromantic. Stress eats. Solves other peoples problems with food too. Giving gifts is his love language.

Izuku is also pan he really likes them strong. His mother has a tiny cake shop in her house next door to Green with Envy. Night owl, anxious. ADHD - shows in impulsivity, distracted, very observant, fidgeting, can’t stay focused, talking excessively, interrupts, intrusive. He fidgets with his hands when nervous. Holds grudges and guilt trips when upset. can’t forgive himself, apologizes too much. Stubborn, doesn’t know when to give up.

Heroes are gladiator esque. They have posters, dolls, figures, homemade wood carvings. They work as adventures but some are paid by the heroes commission to remain in one city and participate in gladiator battles (not to the death) too.

All Might is currently ranked number 1 in the world by the hero commission and has permission to teleport anytime to other countries to help but is based in Faerun, Masfutu.

Izuku and Bakugo try every year to win behind the scenes tickets to the coliseum.

All Might is ace/aro. He’s always been naturally talented at picking up new skills - ADHD - and is thrown that he hasn’t quite taken so well to teaching. Struggled for a bit but is taking it seriously and putting in the work finally.

Grand Torino and Recovery Girl are in love and they spend their dates hassling and messing with the Youth.

Cementos is struggling with a divorce

Mic and Aizawa are married. They have been since a couple of years after school. Aizawa had a whole flamboyant, elaborate proposal planned for Mic, but the day he was going to propose Mic said “we should get married” while gazing lovingly in his eyes and Aizawa was so relieved.

Mic is nonbinary trans he/they. Before he got married to Aizawa and teaching when they took a break from each other he was a world famous Bard. He sings in class and Aizawa has to always bang on the wall to get him to shut up when it gets to loud.

Aizawa is trans and Shinso is son with an ex he jumped into a relationship with after he finished UA. He was never a “hero” in the coliseum, didn’t want the attention, he was a freelance adventurer for a little bit before becoming pregnant, then teaching.

The reason Power Loader never wears a shirt is because he is a huge fashionista and he doesn’t want any of his clothes getting wrecked because he refuses to own no more ugly clothes than required.

Ibara Shiozaki is straight. She’s from a whole family of temple worshippers. (Fantasy) bible before boys.

Jurota Shishida is the lone survivor of a werewolf attack and an orphan. He lives at the school permanently.

Iida is mostly straight. He swings his hands when stressed and musts his hair. plans everything. Morning person. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Yaoyorozu is the local royalty. She has lead a VERY sheltered life. Never left the city except when directly teleporting to other fancy locations. Iida is very dedicated to her as his family is one of her family’s vassals. She rubs her chest when stressed. Absolute capitalist. Only knows how to ball dance and can play the piano. Was in Jiro’s High School band. Doesn’t get to do her own shopping a lot so loves to whenever she can. Loves spoiling people. Kind of naïve.

Cementous and Exoplasm are the oldest teachers at UA and best friends.

Shouto is a grey ace demiromatic gay man. He darts his eyes when nervous. He’s autistic. Knows how to ball dance.

Hawks is pan. He’s a workaholic so he’s up at the crack of dawn. Always seems laid back but is VERY observant. High alcohol tolerance. He plays with his feathers when nervous but is aware of this tell so tries to just do nothing and only does it if very stressed. Favourite food is birds, like chicken, as that’s hawks primary food. He has tetrachromats eyes so can see ultraviolet light. Female hawks are generally larger than males. Hawks prefer open habitats, like deserts or fields. Probably lives on the outskirt of the city, lots of windows. His preferred time to work is just before nightfall. He will likely only live to his 30s at most. He’s mostly based on red-tailed hawks. Perfectionist. Orphan, is the adopted child of the head of the commission.

Shouto’s father is so desperate to find him and keep him because he knows that news of his reputation is vital. Enji is not royalty by blood but by marriage. He’s aware that if he doesn’t keep a tight leash on his family they could ruin his reputation as he’s human (mostly) and the rest are half-elves. So they’ll all outlive him. He’s already lost Touya so he’s desperate to as discreetly as possible find Shouto. Momo is helping him run away and hide out and paying for his school tuition. Enji was at first a hero like All Might until he managed to secure his marriage with Rei. He’s very aware that there’s only so much he can control his reputation as his whole family will outlive him. So will he redeem himself or double down?

Dabi is the League’s reluctant big brother. Likes to mess around with Toga most of all, she reminds him of his little siblings.

Vlad King is one of the founders of UA and is over 100 years old.

* These are purely notes for myself for a dnd game coming up for myself which is why I’ve nicked ideas from tiktoker lia_faye.

#myanalysis

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

Right now I’m in Europe. But I spent the last month living in a hotel room in Chicago visiting friends and family. I didn’t necessarily want to live in a hotel room. I wanted to get an Airbnb like I always do when I travel. But Airbnb are more expensive now. It’s part of the larger unraveling going forward of the urban person’s utopia. Cheap Ubers, cheap Airbnbs, all subsidized by these large companies to get you hooked. Those days are over. Taxis and Hotels are the same price or even cheaper now.

…

I’m reminded of the early 2000s, a different time where TV was a platform to mock people. Remember "Hoarders?” It made fun of sick people so the audience at home could laugh and be shocked. It was very sad watching those people not being able to part with stuff that seemed so irrelevant. They had a whole catalog of addiction shows back then. Shows where you were supposed to laugh at fat people or midgets starting a family.

I work on the computer. It’s easier to keep my home clean than it is my browser. Most psychic pain comes from constantly feeling crowded at the edge of my browser with 20 tabs open I’m not using. Claustrophobic. I’m at the edge of the browser using one tab. Should I close the rest of my tabs? Of course. But sometimes I don’t.

The information contained in one of those tabs could eventually lead to a domino effect that could change your life

…

The downside of the hotel is you’ll never find a decent gym. What you’ll see mostly is machines. Sometimes you’ll see free weights up to 30Ibs and you’ll never see a barbell. I previously wrote about the benefits of using a barbell for real naturalistic weightlifting to stress the skeleton and release osteocalcin. Exercise machines artificially track motion allowing endless repetition of the same movement without the use of the entire body. How much of your skeleton and muscles activate when you lift a rock over your head vs using a strength machine.

You’ll rarely find free weights in a hotel gym and never a barbell.

Why?

The intolerant minority rule is at play. People that prefer free weights and barbells will use machines. But not the other way around.

The same rule applies to parties and alcohol. Once you have ten percent or more of women at a party, you cannot only serve beer. You must serve wine. All men will drink wine but at least 10 percent of women will not drink beer. So you end up just choosing wine for the party and use one set of glasses.

…

It is worth being alert to the intolerant minority rule because it is everywhere. In this article I’m going to go over some places where you can see it. But first, what is it?

What happens when 95 per cent of people are indifferent, but 5 per cent of people prefer something else? The minority wins. Taleb wrote a classic piece on this phenomenon. Society doesn’t evolve by consensus, voting, majority, committees, verbose meeting, academic conferences, and polling; only a few people suffice to disproportionately move the needle. Once an intolerant minority reaches a tiny percentage of the total population, the majority of the population will naturally succumb to their preferences.

There was even a recent study by Scientists at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute on the Intolerant Minority Rule

…

The disproportionate ubiquity of certain foods can be explained by this effect. Pizza is a hugely successful food not so much because it is loved but because nobody hates it. By contrast, take fish or steak, in any group of five or more people, there will always be one who doesn’t feel like eating fish or steak: their lone veto will prevail, and everyone will end up eating chicken. Chicken being the most agreeable meat. There’s even minority rules inside of minority rules, with cheese pizza being the option people will agree to eat over pepperoni or sausage.

Perhaps one of the reasons Lamb never made it big in America is because its the opposite of the chicken. It isn’t a consistent meat. Highly variable. You get wildly different tastes depending on how you cook it, prepare it or store it.

…

The implications are interesting when you think about it. Most human systems — language, morality, religion — evolve based on a passionate and organized minority. The reasonable majority rarely if ever drive any movement.

Moreover, outcomes are paradoxically more stable under the minority rule —the variance of the results is lower and the rule is more likely to emerge independently across separate populations. As long as the majority is ambivalent or tolerant, the status quo will remain.

As Nassim Taleb pointed out when he spotted this phenomenon, the intolerant minority rule can prevail in many areas. Schools where only 5 per cent of the pupils are Muslim will keep halal kitchens, because it is assumed non-Muslims can be served halal food whereas Muslims will eat nothing but.

…

Take a look at every soda bottle you buy. It’ll have a kosher sign on it. Maybe even half of the food you purchase has this logo. Why? Because you don’t care if food or drink is kosher, but Jewish people care. And so the companies make their products kosher compliant. Minority rule means that we all drink Kosher soda because it’s easier to make all lemonade Kosher for the small % that require it rather than having kosher and not kosher.

…

Let’s start with one example of the Intolerant Minority Rule that most people don’t realize.

The asymmetry: Smokers can be in smoke-free areas but nonsmokers cannot and will not be in smoking ones. One is tolerant. The other is intolerant.

The non-smoking section of restaurants and bars actually appeared very late. Entire private establishments would be open to smoking. The movement to separate smoking from non-smoking happened in the mid 1970s. That was when the first reports of lung cancer and smoking became established. You could even smoke on an airplane back then. It was only after an airplane crashed, killing 123 people in France due to a cigarette left burning in the bathroom did the first non-smoking sections appear on airplanes.

…

Given the historical links between smoking and drinking, it is not surprising that “family restaurants,” many of which sold no beer, wine, or liquor, were among the first to create non-smoking sections. Denny’s announced in 1977 that it would devote 25% of its dining areas to non-smoking. It was not long before Victoria Station, Red Lobster, Bob Evans, and many other chains joined the trend. Big city restaurants, on the other hand, lagged behind.

Numerous restaurant owners who disliked setting off non-smoking sections complained it hurt their business in a number of ways. Non-smokers tended also to be non-drinkers and didn’t come out as much on weekends, thus leaving empty tables in the non-smoking area while the smoking section was full and the restaurant had to turn away impatient patrons. Likewise, the non-smokers had lower check averages.

#paul skallas #substack

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itach-i · 4 years

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“We’ll See” (Manorian)

_____________________________________________________________ After the war at Orynth, Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard decided that rebuilding their kingdoms would be the best course of action, leaving whatever they felt for each other up in the air. What happens when they finally make time to see each other again?(Link on ff.net) ________________________________________________________________

Spring - Chapter 1 (you are here)

Broken Glass - Chapter 2 ________________________________________________________________

Spring - Chapter 1

Manon

"Can't sleep either?"

Manon did not turn to the voice even when the witch slowly walked into Abraxos' temporary pen towards the edge of the growing city. It was small and apart from the other makeshift pens, if only because it meant it was closer to Manon's own royal tent.

"Bandits were spotted by the sentinels," Manon responded dryly as she continued to check Abraxos' harness.

Petrah entered her field of vision, but the Blueblood did not make a move to help with the prepping. "Those have never been an issue before."

Manon let out a quiet breath, annoyed at the talking, at the fact that she had to continuously make excuses as to why she needed to be away. Difficult, especially when you were a new queen in a new kingdom.

"And they won't be," the Witch-Queen answered, "once I deal with them."

She was aware there was no bite to the comment, no underlying tone giving away the fact that she was going out to potentially kill because she felt pleasure in it. Recently, there had been no emotion to the way she did things at all. Those few months where she had experienced things like joy and allowing herself to care seemed far away.

"You need any help?"

Manon knew Petrah was only doing her job, that she was tasked with protecting her new queen, especially in times as daunting as these. It still made Manon frown. "I'll be back before sunrise," she told her as she finished with Abraxos, "don't tell anyone."

An order there, and one the freckled witch didn't like. "You have to sleep at some point, Manon." And there it was, Manon thought, the one thing she always saw in others, especially when they spoke to her.

Pity.

She didn't want their pity.

"Wait here if you want," she offered Petrah, and Abraxos was airborne before the other witch could object.

The second they were in the air Manon closed her eyes, if only because it was here where she truly had some peace. Abraxos knew the nightly routine well, flying high enough that the scouts couldn't spot them, but not to the point where the beautiful valleys and hills of the Wastes couldn't be seen.

The moon provided enough illumination that night to reveal the large tent city, located just a couple of miles off the ruins of the original Witch Kingdom's capital. The decision to build in a new location had been a joint one. The Witch War had started due to perceived discrimination toward the three Ironteeth clans, and it had also been the very place thousands of witches had met their end. Manon had wanted to keep it as it was, to serve both as a memorial and a reminder to her people that this is what awaited them if they fell on old stereotypes and preconceptions. Surprisingly, most everyone in her budding council had approved. And although Manon had trouble concentrating on occasions, she was very lucid when she insisted the clans mix in and new covens form between both Ironteeth and Crochan witches. The last thing they needed was another war, even if it only started out as a skirmish.

As Abraxos banked and his flight steadied, Manon finally opened her eyes, taking in the cloudless dark sky, the seemingly endless valleys, the rivers that coiled and stretched between the hills. It was beautiful, that much was true, a paradise especially at the tail end of winter. The land would be arable in the coming weeks, the elders ensured, and the amount of game and wood was plenty, enough that a good portion of it was used for trade in things like grain and other supplies. The witches were fierce and used to extreme conditions, this first winter had been no trouble for them to face. Manon would even say it was comfortable.

As if in answer, a vagrant chill wind made her unbound hair lift up and she took in the cold and breathed in deep, savoring the scent of her home, a scent that reminded her of a certain King who was most likely busy with the rebuilding of his own kingdom.

Wanting to distract herself, she gazed at the stars, so bright and numerous in this land. Glennis herself had taken her out on a cloudless night similar to this one and spoke of things like galaxies and planets, moons and comets, gas clouds and dark holes. The witches had been avid astronomers long ago and although mostly destroyed, there were still some books and odd trinkets around related to the subject.

A library was already being amassed in one of the larger stone buildings being built in the center of the new city and within it was a contraption Manon still loosely understood. Witch mirrors were originally fashioned to be part of certain mechanical contraptions, and one such large contraption was already being worked on. A telescope, Glennis called it, an object not of destruction, but of exploration and study. Wanting to know more about it at that moment the witch looked back, wanting to signal her witches and have Ghislaine move next to her-

The pain hit her harder than the late winter wind at this altitude, and Manon didn't fight it as she watched the empty sky behind her, the size of it making her feel as though she had no kingdom, no home, no hope.

...

Morning arrived in an ocean of color that had Manon standing still outside Abraxos' pen for a couple of seconds, taking in the reds, oranges, and even pink and magenta that reflected on every surface and made even the dirt path that led into different parts of the city look mystical.

"My Queen."

The mentioned one turned to find Brownen mid-bow, the Ironteeth-style leathers suiting the witch and also sending a message. If Manon's guard and council could find common ground and prosper, then so could every other coven, even if it started with only a change of clothes.

Manon turned east, in the general direction of the farmlands currently being prepped for that long-awaited spring. Large barns made of dark oak cherry and ebony wood were in the process of being finished, one of which was were this particular meeting would take place. As of now, any buildings, farmland, and businesses being run were exclusively voluntary, Manon's council having not much control other than where they could set up what building. It hadn't given the queen any trouble and there hadn't been any need of extra workers yet, but it was better to be prepared for any scenario lest the volunteers slowed and workers were needed, which was why Manon wanted to start an official contract service, where workers would be paid for the work they provided and incentivized to continue working under the crown.

"Manon?"

The Witch Queen gave Brownen a look that made the Crochan narrow her dark brown eyes. But when Manon still didn't answer, the witch only repeated what she must've asked before.

"Are you ready to go?"

With a nod, Manon took off, a part of her glad that it was still too early for most of the population to be out. She supposed there was a certain satisfaction in being queen and seeing her people prosper, but Manon had no energy to greet and listen to anyone she came across that day. Not a month prior she had only stared when a new mother had presented her witchling to her, asking if she could hold her. Glennis had taken over easily, convincing the mother that a touch would be more than enough to bless the witchling.

Even thinking about the memory made Manon cringe. To think that some witches would see her as something to be venerated while others questioned why she wore the crown and not a noose around her neck was overwhelming. It made her tired, especially when no one seemed to understand just how difficult it was to make decisions that would always find opposition. Even the council of elders that Manon relied on had a particularly old Crochan witch that would demean Manon every chance she got, questioning her loyalty and moral compass. Removing her would take nothing but a word from the queen, the message it would send, however, could potentially snowball into a whole rebellion, so the witch remained.

They arrived at the empty barn far sooner than Manon thought and she went through the freshly painted door frame expecting the usual cluster of witches waiting for her. She paused in her step and turned sidelong to Brownen. "The meeting was here, right?"

The Crochan only nodded before she turned away from Manon and closed the door behind her, cutting off the beautiful sunlight and making the queen question what in the world was going on.

"Let's sit over there," Brownen offered tightly, pointing to some wooden crates being used to store dry leather that would then be used for trading. Their breaths were visible as Manon followed her sentinel, too exhausted to even question her.

Once they sat, the queen watched as the other witch prepared a small campfire in the area already set aside for the very thing in the center of the building. Manon barely registered the warmth as Brownen spoke. "You should take a couple of days off."

Silence followed as Manon kept her eyes on the fire, so similar to that of the Terrasen Queen's. "It's been almost four months," Brownen continued, undaunted, "you've worked from dawn to dusk every day since then. I think you deserve some time off. Our people would understand."

Not that old crone Jesibel, Manon thought.

"There is still a lot more to be done-" she began, but was cut off by a familiar voice.

"The kingdom can make do without their Queen for a couple of days, granddaughter."

Glennis walked toward them, a picnic basket in hand, with Petrah at her side watching the old witch's gait closely. Manon was starting to understand the picture. With more anger than she intended she said, "so this is what? An intervention? Was there even a meeting with the council?"

None of them answered her and as Glennis approached, Manon just crossed her arms. Carefully, Glennis placed the basket down close to the fire and then she straightened and held out her hand. "I have a letter for you."

Manon blinked as she extended her hand and took it, wondering what new border issue Ansel had-

The shock at seeing the sigil on the letter couldn't be hidden and Manon's heartbeat stupidly picked up. "This letter…" she began.

"It's from the King of Adarlan," Glennis clarified, as if Manon wasn't well acquainted with the golden emblem of a wyvern in mid-flight.

Dorian hadn't written to her before, not that she had expected him to. Border issues were minor and taken care of by lesser ranked officials and from what she knew, the plans to begin training an aerial legion with the rukhin were on hold until the wyvern eggs hatched…unless that's exactly what happened. Had it really been long enough for them to hatch? Orynth felt like yesterday.

"Well?" Petrah asked, a small smile on her pretty face, "aren't you going to open it?"

Even if what was on the letter ended up being completely formal, Manon had a lot of reasons as to why she didn't want to read what was on it. Even if it would have been four months within the next few days, things were too fresh right now, too raw to bother with the what ifs of communicating with Dorian, even if it was through a letter. Things between them had been…odd to say the least and Manon couldn't stop thinking of what that healer from the Torre had said to them, of what Dorian had asked of her and what she knew they both hinted at. At the time, it had seemed easy enough, to rebuild and make her Kingdom prosper, to then help Adarlan with the rukhin.

But now it felt like a weight. Not the emotions she was still learning to feel and identify, but more what could happen if they met again, what could be required of her. Manon wasn't sure if she was ready, perhaps she would never be ready.

One thing was for sure.

She didn't want to open the letter, she didn't want to be the queen of this kingdom, and she didn't want to be pressured by those who thought they knew what she needed.

So, she only shook her head, placed the letter down on the crate she had been leaning on, and left.

...

It didn't take long for her great grandmother to find her, not that Manon was hiding. She had gone to get Abraxos but had found him sleeping next to the fresh bed of flowers that were blooming due to a spell gifted by one of the Fae currently living among the Witches and because the warmth of spring was fast approaching. Manon hadn't questioned when a good number of them had decided to follow the witches to the Wastes, so horrified and hurt by Maeve's actions and identity that they couldn't go back to Doranelle or Wendlyn at all.

Abraxos had been her one comfort in all this, the one thing that felt real despite her love for the Wastes. But she would not wake him when he barely slept, when she took him out at odd hours just so she could try to clear her head. So Manon had gone back to her tent, ordinary and plain, the only thing that marked it as hers was the constant presence of guards, hand-picked by both Petrah and Brownen and later accepted or rejected by Manon.

The Witch-Queen's tent wasn't large, but it easily accommodated a basic cot with blankets gifted to her by a Crochan weaver, a small furnace that doubled as a cooking oven and that kept the inside of the tent warm, a basic wooden table with two chairs, and a small bookshelf next to a makeshift desk made out of the same crates found in the new barn. Nothing personal hung about, no artwork or trinkets. Manon never felt like this was where she belonged anyway.

"What is in that basket?" Manon asked as Glennis closed the flap to the tent before stepping forward.

The witch only smiled as she walked toward the table and with no care of the papers and maps on it, planted her basket there. For a second, Manon swore it moved. "I need you to humor me," the witch said, making Manon raise an eyebrow.

"Humor you?"

"Yes," Glennis answered, and again that blasted letter showed its nerve-wracking face. "I need you to read this letter."

Annoyed, but knowing that her great-grandmother could potentially wait and stare at her to death, Manon took it from her and broke the seal with an iron nail. She paused for a moment, swallowing, before she slowly unfolded the one-page document. She read it quickly, barely able to recognize that the heading at the top read 'Witchling' and that he had signed it as 'Princeling' before inking his actual name in a way that she knew took effort. He had done the entire letter like that, as if he had thought carefully over every word and practiced each stroke of the pen before writing it down.

Glennis sat down in one of the wooden chairs, the one not covered in requests and letters Manon had yet to go over. "Well?"

"He's invited me to go to Anielle, to oversee the new wyvern hatchlings."

"I thought the eggs were in Rifthold," Glennis commented, as if they were talking about the weather and not someone who constantly came up in Manon's thoughts.

"Anielle is closer to the Ferian Gap," Manon answered.

"So he wants the legion to be stationed in the Northern Fang? Smart."

As Manon merely re-folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, her great-grandmother observed her closely. "Well?"

Manon's gold eyes flashed. "Well' what?"

"When should I tell the council that you're going?"

The look the Witch-Queen gave her great-grandmother was merely received with a knowing smile. Suddenly feeling very tired, Manon went toward her cot and sat, the letter delicately held between her fingers. "I don't know if I can do it," she whispered.

Glennis' expression changed then, her voice softer. "I know that despite how well things have been going for our new kingdom, there has been a lot of difficulties. I also know that even if Petrah, Brownen, and I have offered, you have chosen to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself, which we respect." A pause as Manon looked away. Glennis still continued, "I'm not saying you should talk to Dorian or even open up to him specifically, but the change of scenery and a break from all this paperwork may do you some good."

Manon was almost convinced, but a thought kept going back. "I don't know if he wants…more." Those days before they parted, even when they hadn't been sexual, they had spent them together. Despite her almost constant silence, Dorian had consistently showed up to her morning rides with Abraxos, had invited her to have lunch or dinner with her, and on that last night…

Before the blush overtook her, Manon cleared her throat. And it was unusual for her to feel anything other than a pulling emptiness that threatened to drown her if she wasn't moving and busy. Perhaps she really did need this 'change of scenery.' The indecision gnawed at her as Glennis nodded to herself a few times.

"I know you haven't made a final decision," the old witch said, "but if you were to go to Adarlan, when would that be?"

Manon remembered the letter, the way he signed his name and said, "three weeks."

Glennis patted the basket. "Well, I have one more thing to give you. A gift."

Curiously, Manon walked toward where her great-grandmother motioned and watched as the old woman lifted one of the basket flaps. The Witch-Queen's eyebrows drew together as she looked from Glennis back to what was nestled within the basket.

"A…cat?"

The Crochan's smile was lovely. "Yes, for you-and Abraxos," she added with a chuckle. "Her mother was found frozen to death yesterday near the supplies for the library. When the Blueblood that found her went to take her, she found this little one nestled underneath the corpse. Cold and starving," she muttered then, "but alive."

"And you brought her…here…?"

Manon knew nothing of caring for animals, especially not ones that were still dependent on an adult and not a large coddled, scarred, flower-loving wyvern. Glennis seemed unconcerned with that fact and caringly awoke the kitten, whose fur was almost the exact same color as Manon's own hair and whose eyes were a sky blue in color that reminded Manon of Dorian's own sapphire ones.

"Wait," Manon protested, as Glennis placed the tiny creature in her stiff arms. "I never said I wanted a cat." The thing mewled as if cold and Manon instinctively brought it close, where it snuggled and meowed like it wanted to let everyone know it was right where it wanted to be.

As if her work was done, Glennis left the basket where it was and stood up. "You need to feed her every three to four hours as she is still very young. One of our healers is specialized in animals and she prepared a formula you only have to mix with warm water to give her. She should be weaned off it by this time next week." She lifted the entire top off the basket, revealing a myriad of things Manon was not familiar with. "The formula is in this container right here and the instructions are written on this paper. There are also instructions for how to have her go to the bathroom and medicine if she starts showing certain symptoms for different ailments that are common for young kittens."

Overwhelmed and shocked, the Witch-Queen couldn't think. But when Glennis made a move to leave the tent, Manon rushed toward her. "I-I don't know if-"

"It's only a kitten, Manon. She's alone in this world." Glennis softly stroked the cat's tiny head and the thing purred deeply before snuggling further into Manon's chest. "If you really don't want her, give her to Brownen tomorrow and she'll take her back to the healer. But do this favor for me today."

The sincerity in her voice made Manon hesitate and her great-grandmother used that moment to open the flap to the tent and step out into the already warming day. Manon told herself she would take care of the kitten until the next morning, if only because she didn't want to disappoint Glennis. But the second the sun came up; she would give the creature back.

Despite a total of four accidents, two blanket changes, a moment where Manon thought the kitten was choking and it turned out to be nothing but it trying to hiss, Abraxos huffing into the kitten's face and scaring it half to death, and the fact that when she placed the kitten on the basket to sleep for the night it had somehow managed to get up into the cot with her, Manon still did not give the little runt to Brownen the next morning or the one after that.

...

Dorian

Dorian was in a mood this morning, and even though his magic had a bottom now the temperature was still slowly dropping within the provisional court room. Two local lords had been arguing for the past week about a petty border dispute citing that neither of them was responsible for the repairing of the bridge that joined their two territories because it was in the other's land.

Rubbing his temples, Dorian faced the two balding men with a wan smile. "Again, gentlemen, we know the cost is high, but this bridge is important for both of your territories and for trade within Adarlan. Can we not just split the cost? I'll pay a third of it myself from my personal coffers if we just end this now."

It took them a moment to process what their king had said and although so red he could pass for a tomato, the more opulent of the two seemed to have found reason. "I suppose paying only a third would be beneficial in the long run."

"Yes, quite," the other one muttered as Dorian tried not to look to visibly relieved. Before they changed their minds the King of Adarlan was already drawing up papers, making sure each Lord signed their names in ink as soon as possible.

In the process of doing this the creaky wooden door to the stone building that was serving as his court opened and the king sent a look that could split someone in half to his royal page. The boy faced his glare calmly and even cleared his throat. Dorian cut him off. "I thought I gave orders to not interrupt any meetings I have while in court." Not because Dorian didn't want to listen to any issues or problems that could arise while he was busy, but because if he didn't, he'd be interrupted every five minutes.

The boy bowed low as he spoke. "Sire, you specifically told me that you "should not be interrupted at any point during a court procession barring a missive arrives from the Witch Kingdom."

Dorian's heart picked up just as the temperature in the room became warmer. "The queen sent a letter?"

The two bickering lords forgotten, Dorian quickly stood from his wooden chair and made his way to the boy who smiled as if he knew a secret and handed him a simple envelope embossed with a sigil he had never seen before. Three white stars on a black background served as the seal and he distractedly wondered who chose the design. Without looking at the two lords he called for them to finish and be dismissed.

The second Dorian was alone, he breathed out a couple of times to still his heart. It had only been three days since he sent his letter by hawk, could this be a response to that or some other correspondence altogether? Not thinking it over for much longer, he carefully broke the seal and took out a simple piece of paper, unfolding it before beginning to read.

Hello Princeling,

I would like to formally accept your invitation to oversee the wyvern hatchlings with the ruhkin at Anielle in three weeks' time as of the sending of this letter.

Manon

The smile on his face remained well into the day, and when dinner came, a heavily pregnant Yrene noticed the expression and as it was in her nature, remarked on it. "You seem pleased, Dorian."

He didn't bother hiding it, not when Yrene and him had shared conversations on matters relating to and directly mentioning the Wastes' new Witch-Queen and Dorian's potential feelings for her. "She wrote back. Manon accepted the invitation to Anielle."

Although Chaol frowned, Yrene positively beamed. "That's perfect! When? Did she agree to the date you set?"

"Yes, so the plan is still to leave after spring melts the last bits of snow off the road."

As they ate, Chaol seemed to wait for the perfect moment to intervene. "Don't expect her to be the same, Dorian. You had barely enough time to even get to know her."

Used to Chaol's comments, but not feeling particularly understanding of them, the king gave his Hand a look before sarcastically replying. "This trip is more than just trying to woo a witch, Chaol." If anything, this trip was also for strengthening the alliances between their kingdoms, to establish better borders, and to mitigate any sort of issues that could arise if conflict of the violent kind were to happen.

Adarlan had been very broken the day Dorian came back, and it had been an uphill battle since then. Managing supplies, rebuilding important trading routes, removing those that profited from the war from power and establishing a system where the common man could communicate with their king without it overrunning the entire court. The past couple of months had been a time where Dorian had barely enough time to sleep, but they had been good and as of now, it was time to see beyond the borders and think of new ways his people could prosper.

Of course, he had thought of Manon, sometimes multiple times a day, and although he only had secondhand information on how the new Witch Kingdom was doing, the news had always been positive. And it appeared as though Manon was well liked, even revered in some cases, within her kingdom and even beyond.

"Well," Yrene commented, as she stroked her large belly, "I'm sure regardless of what might occur between you two, it will be nice to see her."

Dorian nodded, a shy smile taking over. Yes, it would certainly be nice.

________________________________________________________________

Oh, hey, I’m back?

I guess we’ll see.

Tagging @rufousnmacska because she’s my beta and I love her. Anyone else want tags send me a message or comment on this post.

My other Manorian fanfics from like a million years ago --------> Click Here

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #koa #tog #did ya'll forget about me lol

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toonibo-studios · 3 years

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Welcome back! Last time I mentioned the five areas within The Oddlands, Well here is a lil’ chart that shows off three places of importance per Area (Except for the fifth area because I came up with the idea for it after making this chart ;-;) Warning: This is going to be a long post. The areas will be underneath “Keep Reading”.

BEDWOOD WILDS:

Bedwood Wilds, Represented by the color Green, is a heavily forested area that houses a lot of magic and supernatural activity and is very much “Off the grid” so to speak. Wetland Village: The wetland Village is a large tribal village nestled deep within a Swamp, it houses a tribe called “The Night Stalker Tribe”, A group of powerful Tribal warriors who have access to powerful magical and supernatural abilities.

Kingdom of Bellspell: The kingdom of Bellspell is a kingdom that has a castle in the center of it’s capital, While it is not the largest kingdom in the Tooniverse, the kingdom of Bellspell has the most unique army a kingdom could have, feature dragons and gremlins in addition to the standard Knights and Wizards.

Savaland Grotto: Savaland Grotto is a long since forgotten Roman City that has found itself deep within a massive Cave, rumors have said that a secret civilization has once made the city it’s home and that there still could be some members of that civilization still reside there but those are just rumors...right?

SUNSET ENCLAVE:

Sunset Enclave, Represented by the Color Yellow, is a Tropical area that is a great place to go to on a vacation, featuring a lot of tourist attractions and novelty and antique shops, Sunset Enclave is the number one tourist destination.

New Moon Wharf: New Moon Wharf is a port-side marketplace where sailors come to sell their findings and Cruise Ships come to pick up and drop off passengers though there are some low-income housing and apartments nearby making a trip to the marketplace much easier.

Surfby Point: Surfby Point is an amusement park that features many rides and attractions, it has it’s own boardwalk with many stores and restaurants that sell Surfby Point merchandise and Fast food.

Glacilore: Glacilore is a ancient city rumored to be hidden beneath the waves off of the shores of Rosebud Island, a Resort island only available to passengers of certain Cruise lines. The ancient city is said to hold a horrible curse to those who get to close.

NEO-TOONTOWN:

Neo-Toontown, Represented by the Color Blue, Is the much larger, more futuristic version of the Town of Toons that we all know and love. A massive, Urban Area with skyscrapers, Neon lights, and plenty of things to make the nightlife a lot more...interesting.

Lunar Plaza: Lunar Plaza is a large complex named after it’s Signature Casino, it has a mall, a few hotels, Modern architecture a video game development studio, and a massive arcade.

Bonker Heights: Bonker Heights is the High-end part of town that houses many animation and film studios at it’s heart, However there is a hint of danger due to it being the center of Neo-Toontown’s Criminal underworld.

Victory Field: The premier Stadium for Sports and concerts, Victory Field is often used for high profile events, mostly sports events.

INKWELL FRONTIER:

The Inkwell Frontier, Represented by the color Red, Is a desert area with a Snowy mountain range, which houses a factory/military town. Inkwell Frontier was named after it’s natural Inkwells, there is a government facility deep out in the desert which is said to house multidimensional beings.

Cloud Hill: Cloud Hill is a factory/military town that hosts winter festivals and is always covered beneath a blanket of snow due to the town’s position near the top of the mountains.

Gravelcastle Summit: Gravelcastle Summit is the largest mountain in the Inkwell Frontier and has tons rare minerals and gemstones, Mining workers often tell each other scary stories about the summit in order to scare one another.

Hope’s Hollow: Hope’s Hollow is a western town that values Tradition and Community, so everyone in the town knows each other. The town sometimes come under attack by bandits who are said to have ties with some of the criminal organizations in Neo-Toontown however no evidence supporting these claims has been found as of yet.

THE DUAL REALM:

The Dual Realm, Represented by colors White and Black, is composed of two Landmasses in the sky, Celes and Diante, which represents both Heaven and Hell respectively. They serve as a home to the deities of The Oddlands.

#Oddlands #Tooniverse #Tooniverse:Oddlands

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robomalus · 4 years

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Fanon concept: Blacksmiths and who guards the hot spots

y’all asked for it so here i go, special shout out to who i can only call my partner in crime at this point @bettsplendens, i think we were both throwing around a lot of ideas RE: this

so, what I’m basing this on: as per IDW1 continuity (not certain about the others and i haven’t been exposed to much others, i think it may be a bit different in IDW2?) you’ve got approximately 2 ways bots can be made: forging, and cold construction. Forging, as touched on in Lost Light, involves the presence of a blacksmith. the only real blacksmith we see in IDW1 is Anode, who performs some wizard magic on a flake of senito metallico (the stuff which tfs are made from) and brings back her wife, Lug, from a scrap of her spark energy.

which is all well and good, but raises quite a few questions that IDW1 didn’t seek to answer in its time. my first question was: what do blacksmiths actually do?

given this base, I figured that what Anode did is something very out of the ordinary, after all, blacksmiths wouldn’t normally be working with fragments of sparks, they’d be working with the full things as they pop out of the ground. but, in my opinion, it wouldn’t make much sense for a blacksmith to be present at every forging, primarily because of the sheer volume of sparklings that would need to be forged, and also because there would need to be some sort of blacksmith during the first wave of forgings (which... i guess you could figure it to be that the gods were the blacksmiths of the second+ generations, but that’s not where i went)

instead, blacksmiths are more like shepherds than anything else. groups of cybertronians, not all of which call themselves blacksmiths, gather around known hot spots, where the ground is rich in senito metallico, and the sparks pop out in a seasonal basis. forging happens on its own if the spark comes out hot enough to catalyze a reaction with the surrounding metals, and the end result is a protoform. blacksmiths stand guard and supervise the process, essentially. once most of the forging has happened, the majority of the blacksmiths lead them back to a facility where they’re kept safe, monitored for health problems, and socialized, until they’re fully grown and ready to be set free into society (or in most cases “ready”). a few stay behind to gather up the sparks that weren’t hot enough to catalyze a reaction (read: become protoforms) to be stored until they’re later used for cold-construction (which i have many other ideas on, and will make another post about).

once a “bloom” is over the blacksmiths stay inside the facility and tend to the protoforms until they’re grown. these tend to be very loving places, not that most bots can remember it exactly, with medics on staff to keep everyone healthy as well. eventually there comes a day where someone from the nearest city and/or government comes in, assigns the mostly-full-grown bots names and serial numbers, and designates them to a sector in which to work/call home (this becomes more of a Thing once functionism starts to really take hold).

the rest of the year, they’re training. being a blacksmith is a dangerous job, not because of what could be in a spark field, but what is outside it. predators lurk at the edges- predators that would otherwise get in and either eat the newly-minted protoforms or pluck the sparks directly from the ground. that is easy prey after all, for predators of any size or intelligence level. blacksmiths must be trained to fight against whatever would seek to ruin a spark field, and they do.

the blacksmith attire begins with a layer of armor, something close to a chainmail tunic. over that goes a formless cloak, with larger plates woven into the metal fabric. they wear a hood and a very simple looking mask to complete the look. this is all so they don’t imprint on the protoforms and influence them to grow to look like them. though perhaps the most striking thing about the blacksmith is their weapon.

first, however, let me explain the role of senito metallico in all this. while a cybertronian frame can and will integrate most metals, metallico is the most important, as it has a special property that aligns it to the spark. this is how cybertronians can get limbs replaced without much fuss, as long as there is a small amount of metallico in the alloy of each of the parts, it will feel like their own. the amount of metallico differs depending on which part it is. outer plating has traces, while struts and inner plating have much, much more. the highest concentration metallico alloy is in the spark chamber (as around your soul would be a very bad place to have something that feels not yours). the metallico parts of the alloy align themselves to the spark’s specific resonant frequency and additionally help to project the EM field so others can read it (it’s not the only thing, more on that... some other time i guess).

senito metallico is a controlled substance, by which i mean, there’s not a lot of it compared to other things, and if it were misused it would be bad and also very wasteful. which is why it is somewhat of a big deal that blacksmiths make their weapons from a very high concentration alloy.

these weapons are usually scythes (because it’s cool okay stay with me) which have lanterns embedded within them, glowing the color of energon to herd the young ones to safety. they can be used in a dangerous technique that blacksmiths have mastered- with careful forging, the blades hum in the wielder’s spark’s frequency, and with careful training, that hum can become a loud, piercing, debilitating shriek and heat up to temperatures that melt plating like nothing.

why, you might ask?

sparkeaters

the horrid and most dangerous enemy to encounter at the edge of a hot spot is a sparkeater, drawn by the energy given off due to a bloom. blacksmiths are among the only groups to consistently hunt sparkeaters down due to their frequency around hot spots. and so they train. they hone their skills and their blade, steel themselves against the noise, strategize with each other on how to take down sparkeaters efficiently and quickly, such that even one (albeit very skilled) blacksmith could take down a sparkeater on their own.

blacksmiths are a secretive and reclusive group. you cannot be forged into the role, or pushed in by some outside force. the members are diverse, in all shapes, sizes, altmodes, and are chosen from a batch of protoforms, not for ability or strength, but for kindness. they keep their secrets well-guarded, and when a blacksmith dies, their weapon is lost forever in a specially-made subspace pocket so that it does not fall into the wrong hands. they are, however, commonly known to exit their facilities on the off season, to investigate and eradicate reports of sparkeaters in other areas.

#maccadam #transformers #idk what you'd call this #speculative fanon #?maybe?#anyway yeah lmk what u think/if i should do more of this

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sevenfactorial · 5 years

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On the topic of math REUs

So I’m finally getting around to writing about this (also using it as a a draft for when I talk about REUs at math club next semester lol). This is based off my singular experience so of course it’ll vary quite a bit. Also yeah, it got really long.

First, some context. I went to an 8 week program several hours away from home at a mid-sized public university. It’s math department isn’t tiny, but mine is bigger I think (it has a math grad program while the REU school doesn’t for one) and definitely does more research (I go to a R1 school, the REU school is not). My REU was also in a mid-sized town compared to the small city I’m used to. There was two math projects going on, with 4 people on each plus a student from the university working with my project on a different grant and two professors mentoring each group. In addition, they support a much larger chemistry REU who we were housed with.

The Research

I worked on algebraic graph theory (the pure math project, while the other group did applied math). Specifically we looked at the abelian sandpile model, also known as chip firing and some other names.

We weren’t given a specific question and were more encouraged to find our own questions within the topic. We found the freedom really nice and interesting, but also felt like we would have gotten more done if we were given a narrower window of things to look at. Many REUs are given a specific question/project (the other group did) so it varies. Coming up with research questions is often considered harder than making discoveries themselves so it was frustrating in a way but I'm also glad I got to deal with it.

With 5 people working on the topic, we split up and formed groups multiple times through the summer. All of us ended up working on one question(looking at a group defined by sandpiles on strongly regular graphs; I’m not going to get into detail about the material itself but message/send an ask if you want to know more. You can also probably find our final write up online once our mentor posts it) but also had personal/two or three person mini-projects going on. My main one was not particularly successful since I eventually realized I was trying to do something similar to a conjecture that has been open since the 90s (abelian sandpiles was started in the 80s, possibly 70s?) which was sort of disappointing but still interesting.

We worked more computationally than I’m used to since graphs are just... kinda weird and the algebra was sort of borderline what we were capable of learning and doing in a short time. Note that you don’t have to have a strong background in the topic to work on an REU. You don’t have to have any background often times; the mentors will likely do a crash course on it during the first week or two which is intense but works just fine. I happened to have a little and one of my labmates had done algebraic graph theory research before, but the mentors didn't assume much prior knowledge (the application should be clear about if they do expect you to have certain background but typically, they just assume you’ve taken several math classes and have experience with proof writing. maybe a linear alg or programming class).

At the end of the summer, we did a presentation for the other group and anyone else in the department who wanted to attend and wrote up a final report together. Some programs expect something publishable, though I get the impression most are more aiming for “something that can be published with heavy refinement.” We’re encouraged to present at our home institution or at conferences if we can/want to and have a decent chance of getting funding from their department to do so if necessary.

The Work Day

Working at the REU is definitely the closest thing I’ve had to a standard job. The first weekish, we met at 9:30 and 1:00 each day for the background crash course lecture, with a break in between to work without the mentors and get lunch. The students would then work without the mentors until 5. After the first week or two, we only had a meeting with the mentors once every day or two but continued to work roughly from 9:30 to 5, with a lunch break from 12 to 1. This was really mostly our choice to do so. We all did some work outside the work day, but nothing like the amount of homework we're used to as math students. A lot of us found it baffling how much free time we had.

We were given several options for places to work in the math building and everyone typically worked in the same room but it wasn’t forced either. Sometimes I spent the afternoon in the library if I decided I couldn’t take social interaction and did work at a coffee shop downtown a couple mornings. We were also able to visit the mentors in their offices outside of meeting times.

They also did tea once a week where a different faculty talked about their experience/path to their current career and gave advice for grad school and the like.

Outside of Work

The mentors and organizers did a couple events. We were close to DC so they took us one Saturday (I went back on my own to visit counter-example another weekend which is when the squirrel encounters happened), one mentor hosted a memorial day bbq at his house and another did a game day at hers. Another mentor is an amateur astronomer so he took us up to a mountain top to stargaze one night which was fantastic. All the math students (from both projects plus those who were students there and were around for research or whatever) were invited to all the events and chem REU students were also invited to some of them. Likewise, we were invited to some events hosted by the chem REU though I went to less of those.

Mostly though, we were left to our own devices outside of work hours. We were put in a dorm which was effectively a 2 bed 2 bath apartment for 4 people which included a kitchen (we were able to buy meal swipes on a faculty plan and I bought some but mostly cooked). I didn’t bring a car so I often went grocery shopping with one of my labmates or roommate since the nearest grocery store was a bit over a mile away.

Downtown was a lot closer though, so I often walked there on my own to a restaurant or coffee shop. They had a nice downtown area with a lot of food options so that was really fun.

We were nestled between several forests so me and some of my labmates went hiking on Saturday and me and some of my roommates attempted camping once as well (story and some pictures here: https://sevenfactorial.tumblr.com/post/186095927170/yesterday-me-and-my-roommates-went-camping-except).

I was also able to keep up with various friends at home. A few of us read a linear alg book together for the first month or so of the summer and I continued playing d&d with a few of my friends on a bi-weekly basis via video chat (we usually do it over video chat in the first place actually), though we intentionally skipped during the last two-ish weeks of my REU.

This is obviously very dependent on where your REU is but kinda gets the gist of what a lot of programs do in terms of activities. Activities tended to be announced/planned pretty last minute though, so it’s a bit of a guessing game.

My Take Away

I liked going to my REU. For me, the most valuable things was definitely getting to meet math people from other places and having different experiences from what I’m used to.

I really love my department at home but comparing experiences was fascinating. Whether that’s what subjects are offered or how things are structured or how we interacted with our department, it varied a lot. Having that knowledge is useful in my opinion.

Life experiences are also really different. Two of my labmates are from small liberal arts schools in the NE and one is from an engineering college on the west coast. There aren’t fireflies on the west coast, for example, and not many in new england either, so everyone else was fascinated by how many there were (there were slightly more there than I’m used to since I live in a larger city, but not enough for me to find it unusual).

I also grew up in the same city I go to undergrad in too so spending two months somewhere else was really valuable for me. I had never been away from my parents for that long (I tend to not spend a lot of time at home but I visit for short amounts of time frequently) but I will be going out of state for grad school since there aren’t any grad programs in my state that I’m interested in. My parents were encouraging but pretty freaked out about me being gone for two months (we all survived).

TL;DR My REU was a bit like an intense but flexible job where I was able to work on an interesting project and meet a lot of people with similar yet very different experiences from my own. I recommend applying!

#reu stories #seven stories #math reu #math major life #long post

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littlesilverplatinum · 5 years

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Alcohol, Smoking – All that is or isn’t Allowed in Johto – HC

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If Sinnoh can be considered as negligent with its laws of age restrictions, then Johto (and to some degree, Kanto) can be said to be vastly stricter. The general age limit lingers at eighteen, but social norms play a much larger role in areas such as smoking and alcohol consumption than it does anywhere else.

--Cigarettes are rare even within the smallest of backroad general stores, as a license has to be carried to host such items within an establishment. With it comes laws to follow, taxes to pay – and it’s a hassle not many stores are willing to go through. Where you most likely will find fags in their many kinds would be within stores build specifically for the consumption of such items. Tobacco Shops are sparsely scattered around the region, found within cities such as Violet, Goldenrod as well as Olivine. --Mostly, they are out of sight around the corners of more appropriate boutiques.

Smoking brings with it a stigma many of the new generation won’t allow themselves to carry. If people do decide to carry on with this habit despite it all, then they most likely won’t do it within the public eye.

What is accepted, however (or at least more so than cigarettes) is the smoking of herbal remedies through pipes. Though this is a dying trend mostly lingering around with the older generation, its stock is much easier to get a hold of and many times even children can come in with a few coins to purchase the needed items. It’s a fetch quest of sorts that many grandparents give their grandchildren, and it’s generally seen as a good thing.

Ecruteak is largely regarded as the hub of keeping this habit alive.

The age restriction sits at eighteen, though again, you can buy it when you’re as young as five given you have the means to prove it’s a request from a family member. A handwritten note with a name and address is often enough.

--Alcohol is less stigmatized than the act of smoking, though it’s certainly not a norm to drink often. Bars and other such venues close around two in the morning, leaving guests under the influence with no choice but to return home should they desire to consume more. This keeps the streets fairly clean, and it’s certainly not accepted to drink out in public during the day hours – but no one will outwardly shame you should you desire a cup of sake before bed.

What you do in your home, on your property, is generally regarded as your business.

Alcohol can be brought in most department stores, though for higher percentage it’s better to go to shops specifically for the beverage. You may start drinking at the age of eighteen, but you cannot buy it in stores until you’re twenty.

--Gambling is a subject a bit touchier than it perhaps has any right to be. Though it’s not illegal to gamble, what counts as gambling is… badly defined, and so the activities that fall under the law are hard to understand should you not be an avid participant of these things.

Currently, Johto houses no official gambling facility that is fully functional. One is under construction within Goldenrod, however it should be said that though there’s no other official place strictly for the activity – it still takes place within most towns. This is again something most common within the older generation, as the appeal of board games being played for money doesn’t hold its appeal for a youth born into an electronically advancing region.

It should be noted that board games does not fall into the law of gambling, and so any activity such as this is illegal in the eyes of the regulations. Card games within bars are the most common form of gambling, one that is legal – however not all games of card can be played for money, and only under certain circumstances can you participate in a game involving money. --A dealer has to be present, for one. No dealer, no deals.

Each large town holds slightly different rules regarding what games can be bet on, making things much more confusing than they need be. If you’re moving from city to city, then it’s better not to involve yourself in the activity unless you’re well versed with the rules of said town.

Goldenrod is the most open to any forms of gambling, though it should be done nowhere but within the up and coming casino, or within bars.

You have to be above eighteen to be allowed to gamble.

Lastly: Age of consent.

The age of consent within Johto is thirteen years old. Individuals aged twelve or younger in Johto are not legally able to consent to sexual activity, and such activity may result in prosecution for statutory rape or the equivalent local law. At thirteen, Johto's base age of consent is the lowest of any developed region. However, many prefectures also have local "corruption of minors" or "obscenity statutes" which raise the de-facto age of consent to sixteen-eighteen, unless they are in a "sincere romantic relationship", usually determined by parental consent. The age of marriage is sixteen for girls and eighteen for boys with parental permission, and twenty otherwise.

#(ooc - mun)#world building #Johto #-hc-#alcohol #smoking #gambling #Age of Consent #welcome back to: erik talks way too much #and listen before anyone comes at my throat for the age of consent-#im basing it around japan #its crazy but it is what it is #can you tell that i have THOUGHTS about the gambling in johto #but i dont know how to fully explain it???#its messy is what it is #also of note: no not all of this is based around how things actually are in japan #its just how i imagine a strict still very traditional and old johto #to be #:v

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