#red ranger coded...

[dorinnn]

art collab with @kkaerikko !! :)

#enstars #ensemble stars #chiaki morisawa #genshin impact #genshin #ga ming #does he have the tag yet #ga ming genshin impact #:3 #What is this genre of characters called #guiys.... #red ranger coded...

[infinitysgrace]

another thing my unobservant ass never fucking noticed

chaos man's wearing red in the first episode of dt lmao

#infinite ramble #power rangers #dino thunder #tommy oliver #sorry the topic of color coding came up in a convo and i realized this #i noticed the others were color coded already and didn't notice he's still wearing red lmao

[diegohargreeves1989]

My gender identity is the red coded characters in children’s movies and TV shows

#gender #gender identity #transgender #nonbinary #lgbt #lgbtq+ #I’m just a red coded person waiting for my blue coded person to come along #Voltron #keith kogane #sky high #warren peace #power rangers

[nugulover69]

Extremely good episode for Sosuke monkeyisms

#CK rambles #engine sentai go onger #every red ranger is monkey coded methinks #-but that's a banki inhabiting sosuke's body that doesn't count- shhhh it does bc i say so

[zepskies]

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.” 

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail. 

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.” 

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

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#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

[foone]

Concept: fursonas with non-human senses. Not just canine "can smell better" ("My fursona has no nose." "How does she smell?" "Terrible!"), but actually different senses. (Under a readmore because big surprise, I write a lot)

Sharks who walk into a dark room and go "hey guys!" to the people about to shout "surprise!". Electroreception, yo. They can feel the electric fields in bodies. They have a good job as an electrician, because they can tell which wires are active and which aren't, without needing a tester. One of the guests is a snake who says "I told you this wouldn't work", as they can see in the dark through thermoception.

Corvids who don't watch human movies, especially not in theaters. They're just flickery slide-shows to them. Their vision is too fast, persistence of vision doesn't kick in until like 200 FPS.

I know the mantis shrimp colors aren't real (it's actually just a thing where they have extra cones to make up for not having enough brain to merge them. Like, humans have red/green/blue cones, and we see "yellow" when the red and green cones are both activated, but shrimp can't do that merging. So they have a yellow cone) but fuck it, this is fantasy. Make your fursona have access to all the forbidden colors.

Hell, have them able to see outside the "visible" spectrum! Imagine a furry working at a human-majority office who gets pulled into a meeting with her manager one day, who has to tell her that even if she's covered in fur, she can't wear a top that revealing, they have a dress code. She goes "what? But.. Sally in accounting wears that semi-transparent blouse most weeks!" and then they both come to realize that humans can't see near-IR and therefore don't realize that a lot of their clothing choices are transparent to that wavelength. The furry has just been seeing all these exposed chests and going "wow, I had heard the humans could be prudes about nudity, what with not having fur, but apparently not." and decided to join in one day. Whoops.

Hell, let them see radiation! Who needs a giger counter? They're digging through an junk shop and WHOA, shouldn't this be in the back or in a safe or something? The owner (a Shetland sheep dog) is like "what do you mean?" and they go "it's pretty radioactive, man! Can't you tell?" "uhh.. No. Why don't you put that down quickly and I'll go grab a lead bucket."

An octopus that goes to see a 3D movie but turns down the glasses. No need. They can see circularly polarized light just fine on their own.

You go over to visit a bat's warehouse to get an old computer they offered to loan you and they sheepishly (is that offensive to sheep?) admit that they never bothered installing any lighting inside. Why would they? They can see fine with echolocation. And their friend Skippy never complained, either! Mind you, they are a dolphin.

A park ranger who is a jewel beetle. They can detect fires miles away, but only if pine trees are involved. They're a firefighter in a pine tree forest, so that's fine.

A bee who keeps giving directions in terms of cardinal directions and forgetting that not everyone has an innate sense of North/South thanks to being able to sense the magnetic field of the Earth. And this is after they went to all the trouble of giving the directions in words, instead of dancing!

Tangent idea: a bee pirate who writes a pop song, and it's not until another bee hears it years later that they realize that the dance instructions in the song are actually a treasure map.

Creatures who can sense RF directly. Some of them can't even get near human-style cities, as they're "too noisy". It takes the more mundane inhabitants a while to realize they aren't talking about sound, and earplugs won't help.

Others can pull off amazing mental tricks like the Scramblers from Peter Watts' Blindsight, and the first time they get near a human city they figure out how to decode all these FM signals and within minutes they can watch TV, listen to the radio, or log onto the wifi. They're not robots or cyborgs, they're just unholy smart and frighteningly fast.

And there's no reason it should be limited to natural things... The supernatural is there as well. A furry who mentions they hate going to some human cities because they're so crowded with ancestors. It's not for a while until someone realizes that word isn't being translated exactly right, and they don't just mean "old humans". They mean the ones who lived there before, but are dead. They still see them, and are surprised that the humans can't.

Hell, how about a fursona with an asymmetric design? Different fur patterns, heterochromia, things like that. But it swaps sides from time to time. It's not an art mistake, they really do that. No one understands why until they casually point out a missing item is in the drawer of there, the locked one. Then they reach around all six sides of the drawer and pull it out. What, you can't see in four dimensions? Yeah, sometimes their body swaps left/right because they rotated through the 4th axis and inverted their body. No big deal, but they have to be careful with what food they eat sometimes. All those chiral molecules... You don't want them backwards. Fortunately they've got a pretty strong digestive system so it's not a big deal. And vodka always goes down smooth, alcohol is symmetric!

Speaking of which, fursonas with vulture-like digestive systems. They yell at their roommate for throwing out that expired meat. It's only expired by human standards, and they're just a bunch of wimps who can't handle a little putrefaction in their lunch.

And I know I said "not like canines with just better senses of smell" but there's some interesting options for having beings who can smell things humans just can't. A fursona that detects a gas leak because they can smell carbon monoxide, not just the bitterants added to help humans detect it. Or can pick up on human pheromones, although that one is often covered in werewolf media, I hear. But instead of just arousal/fertility/pregnancy, they can also be like "hey you smell different... Have you talked to your doctor about testing for diabetes? I think your a1c might be high."

Speaking of pheromones, how about fursonas that do things like ants, who automatically put down invisible scent trails and follow them? They are a pain to go hiking with, since they just assume you can follow them if they get out of sight, and you gotta remind them to slow down sometimes.

Hell, fursonas who have quorum sensing, either type. The bacteria-like type have gene expression that changes based on population density. Members of their species in the wild, in rural areas, and in urban areas have radically different phenotypes. The social insect type make decisions with an implicit silent democracy, bordering on a hive mind. They are always surprised when humans and similar want to talk out decisions. Can't they just tell what the majority want and just do that? It seems so much similar.

Speaking of which, ACTUAL HIVE MINDS. You're dating a nice worker bee and and another member of the same hive comes by and says "hello love!" and gives you a big kiss. Your partner is surprised you had any problem with this. They're the same person, basically? And they feel their love for you just as much. (obligatory A Miracle of Science reference: Mars thinks you're cute)

Combine that with insect-like lifespans for some extra weirdness: the one you're dating isn't even the one you started with. The bee-people only live a month or two, and you've been dating for nearly a year now. Hell, even when your first partner was still alive, it wasn't always the "same" bee that came by to visit. Of course, that's putting a human-like kind of perspective on if it's the same bee. To the hive-mind bees, it is. It's the same hive. They have the same mind, just in 70,000 separate bodies. So of course it's the same person. Just not the same body.

Heh. How about magnetic sense? This may be overly specific to my interests, but you hand a furry a floppy disk and they hold it for a few seconds and then hand it back. "Thanks!" "oh, don't you want it?" "oh yeah. But I already got all the data off it." "but... You didn't put it in a floppy drive?" "no? What's the point in that? I just read the flux transitions off the surface. It's not hard."

More esoteric senses, too. You're driving down California one with your partner, listing to some Decemberists and they idly go "huh, Diablo Canyon is still running? I thought they had shut it down!" You're like "what?" They point out the window at the two cooling domes. "The power plant! It's still running. Can't you taste all those neutrinos?" "uh, no." "what, really? They're quite fresh compared to the usual solar ones." "I can't 'taste' those either" "oh. Weird!"

Your plasma-lifeform boyfriend who evolved in space sometimes has dizzy spells where he nearly drives his containment vessel into a wall. "sorry, that was a big one. Those gravity waves must have been from, like, an 80-90 solar-mass black hole merger? A close one too, only a few dozen megaparsecs."

You've long since given up explaining that you have no way of detecting events that take place over 30 million light-years away.

The atemporal energy being who proposes the first time you meet. You're shocked, but they point out why? You have/are/will spent/spending (tenses are hard) over 60 years of your experience of years with them. They just don't really see how this time is different from all the times you have/will spend together. They thought humans liked this "till death do us part" ceremony, even though death has no meaning for them. They're not immortal, but their death is just like their birth (or the energy being equivalent): a discontinuity on the edges of their lifeline. They don't exist past there, just like you don't exist outside of the 3D volume of your body. So what does it matter? Besides, we've had this conversation before, or is it later? Either way.

A hive mind being who only has one body you can see, because they're actually a hive mind across themselves in different timelines. They sometimes get mixed up which version of you they're talking to, and ask odd questions like how your son is doing in college. You don't have son, or any kids for that matter. "whoops, that's the other you. Lemme... You're married to Tony, right?" "Who's Tony?" "Obviously not. Uhh, is Sarah your girlfriend?" "no? I'm not a lesbian!" "Not this you, at least. Oh, I've got it. You work at the newspaper?" "yeah. I'm an editor" "oh cool. Got it. Sorry, it's easy to get all the yous confused sometimes."

Later that week, your boss introduces you to a new reporter, Sarah Torres. You can't help but wonder of this is the Sarah another you is dating. You don't see it. But apparently another you does.

And that tangent makes me think of another one: mind reading, either full or just empathic, isn't that unusual in aliens and such, but imagine a race that doesn't go around reading minds unless given permission, but they have a persistent problem with pronouns. See, they can just tell what your gender is. And closeted trans people keep getting outed accidentally. Sometimes outed to themselves, because they call you by your "true" pronouns, not the ones you're using now.

And the same goes for orientation. Like your coworker will be like "why don't you ask out Steven on a date?" and you're like "Steven? I don't even know if he likes guys, I've never gotten any hints from him..." and they go "what? No, of course he does. Can't you tell?"

(I just invented a species with perfect gaydar. That's weird, right?)

Someone who has that ESP "there were strong emotions and events here" sense, but it goes both ways. They would never visit Hiroshima for the same reason they will never visit Chicago. They don't want to explain to you what will happen there, but they go a bit teary-eyed when you bring it up.

A species that magic tricks just don't work on, and no one can figure out why. They can't see through solid objects, they don't seem to have a super-fast vision, they can't read minds, but everytime you show them a magic trick they're like "the ball is in your hand" or "you have a fifth ace in your sleeve" or "there's another rabbit under the table". They don't even seem to realize it's supposed to be a trick. They're just slightly confused at what you're trying to do.

A species that has the equivalent of a spectroscope/chromatograph built into their body. You hand them a drink and they can list the molecules in it and their concentrations. You'd think they'd mainly be scientists, but a lot of them are bartenders. They make perfect mixed drinks (down to the nanoliter of exact composition) and they can spot a spiked drink from across the room.

A species that can taste your DNA when you touch them. They're a weird blob that rewrites their own DNA on a daily basis, and find static-DNA beings "weird and unusual" and always want to help you with that. Wouldn't you be happier if you had a couple extra arms? Maybe claws? How about switching sex? Just for the weekend, they can put you back to "normal" if you want. Or maybe you'd like to spend some time as a dog? Your two species are pretty close, evolutionary speaking. It shouldn't take more than a day or two to rewrite every cell in your body. Sometimes you "humans" are so boring. They can't imagine staying in the same form for more than a few days, and you fuckers do that for, what, up to a century? Before you "get old and die"? You know, that's a choice. They can fix that. You don't have to age, if you don't want to.

Speaking of which, species with radically different lifespans and approaches to life.

The Dragon's Egg beings occasionally give humans gifts, of books of poetry about their unrequited love for you. There's no point in responding, even if you do come to love them from their writings. By the time you have opened the first page of the book, they're dead, their children are dead, and their grandchildren are getting old.

Similarly there's a race of trees where you can be dating one for 40 years before they reveal that they've considered this just a minor flirty bit of fun. They don't get involved with humans and human-likes, they'll be gone in the blink of a century, so what's the point. You ask them their age one time and have trouble grappling with the fact that when they sprouted, your ancestors hadn't yet mastered the written language. Their still-living parent remembers visiting earth before it had any life outside the seas. You had dinner with them last Thanksgiving. They liked your broccoli casserole.

So... yeah.

#Furry #Senses #my creations

[ryoalouette]

Machi's #14 DCxDP idea

Since Danny wears a black hazmat suit his codename in DC could be Black Robin. A bird from New Zealand.

Besides, it's funny to have Robin, Red Robin and Black Robin. Steph would probably try to change her code name to Purple Robin only to mess with them.

Me: Dick would prolly try to change his name into Blue Robin X"D Also... Kinda indignant maybe? (Or maybe that's just Robin, idk.) Coz Blue Ranger usually isn't the leader in those Power Ranger franchises.

Also me: Wait. Would that mean that Red Hood should change his name into Anti-Robin?? Cass being miffed that Black Robin is already taken (coz Black Bat >>> Black Robin >>> already used)? Signal being Yellow Robin X"D?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #Machi's idea #power ranger stereotyping #actually how come that it's Very Rare for them supersentai ish genre have other color aside from red/pink as the leader?

[outofgloom]

[This story is the last in my previously-posted anthology of Bionicle short fiction, to which it lends its name]

AIKURU

We arrived at the site before sunrise. It was in a place north of the ridge called Sakerra in the language of our Skrall guides. The discovery had been made only five days ago, and as we made our way down from the wind-worn crags, there were no apparent signs of raiding. 

A structure was there in the valley, just as the flyover had reported. It was of the same gray, stonelike material from which all Their architecture is made—so old now that it no longer gleams in the light, but somehow still smooth to the touch.

As soon as we reached the lower steppes, our rangers set about the task of making provision for departure. Four days were allotted to us, and then the existence of the site would be announced to the Quadrate at large. After that, the System Adherents would claim their rights, and the site would be swallowed up in pilgrimage.

The structure was immediately familiar to me as we approached: a broad circle, rounded at the edges, raised from the ground by perhaps two spans to form a low column or stage. Half of the structure was covered beneath a berm of sediment, probably deposited by one flash-flood and then partly washed away by another. We immediately began the process of excavation, except for Neisa, who took up a position on the west side of the structure with her tools for assessing angles and spans, ready to note the position at which the red dawnlight would fall. It was a typical measurement, given the theory that such shrines were oriented in a significant way.

First with shovels and then with small brushes of fine wire, we cleared away the dust and caked mud until the entire circumference was revealed. As I had suspected, the entryway was already opened, and it too was filled with earth. Most of the first day was spent this way: in turns, we sifted through each layer, revealing step by narrow step the spiraling staircase that characterized shrines of this type. They were an original icon: the prototype for the modern chapels of the System Adherents. 

I was halfway down the second bend of the staircase, carefully cleaning dirt from the lip of the next step, when Osphos summoned me from above. I emerged with my bucket and saw that he was crouched over the shrine’s far edge. I stepped across the rolls of harak-cloth that had been laid down for the protection of the exterior and made my way over. 

“Lytus!” he said, seeing me approach. “Look here.” He pointed at the stone surface before him. 

We had already noted the usual markings on top of the shrine: the eighteen-fold division of the broad circle, the components of which descended into a staircase when the shrine was opened. That was nothing new, but here there was something else. Small symbols were carved around the outer edge of the circle; very worn, but still visible.

“They showed up once we cleared off enough sediment,” Osphos said.

“Are they makoki-symbols?”

“Herem’s Eye, that’s the word I was thinking of! Makoki-symbols, yes,” Osphos said. “Ever seen them on a structure like this?”

“No, never. Are we sure they’re original?” I crouched, put an eye close to the surface. “There’s graffiti sometimes, bone-hunter codes, the Matan inscriptions on the eastern sites... These are new to me.”

“Any guess as to what they might signify?”

“Well...” I sat back on my heels, rubbed my eyes. “Makokori are early period, and we don’t find them past Second or Third Myriad—not in the tablets or kini-ruins. Prior to that, they’re inscribed on doorways, and some of the Machines. There are theories that they signify keystones, or some kind of locking mechanism.”

“Fortunate that this shrine is already unlocked for us, then.”

“Yeah... I suppose these symbols might help date the shrine. If they’re original, this might be one of the earliest sites we’ve found. We should do an analysis of the sediment back at Naqua.”

“Already collected some samples. I’ll take a rubbing as well,” Osphos said. “How’s progress on the interior?”

I brushed off my hands. “We’re close. Another turn and we should be at the bottom. I could use more help.”

Osphos snapped his fingers to the other workers who were combing the field-grid for artifacts.

“Double-time on the stairs for the next few hours,” he called. “I want to see the bottom before Solis is down. Let’s move it!”

*  *  *

We did not reach the bottom. Normally, shrines of this kind exhibit two or three turns of stairs and then level out in a circular chamber. Not this one. Solis had set an hour ago, and still we were digging, our work illuminated only by pale quartz-lanterns. Stair after stair we exhumed, always expecting the next to be the last. But after six turns, descending fully twelve thori—or about six of Their bio—into the earth, still there was no end.

Osphos finally gave the command to stop, frustrating though it was, and we began to pack up the tools. I was at the bottom of the excavation at that point. The air was thick, and my back hurt from crouching for so long. I began to gather the various shovels and brushes that had accumulated around me, handing them up to Neisa on the stair above me. 

“Can you handle the rest?” Neisa nodded to the remaining implements.

“Right behind you.” I stood and stretched my limbs in the cramped space, then reached for my tool-bundle and bucket.

Something caught my eye—a glint in the quartzlight, a fragment of something sticking out of the mass of earth before me. I rubbed my tired eyes, blinked away the settling dust. It was still there. 

Wordlessly, I snatched up a brush and began to sweep away more dirt. It was metallic—a shaped metal object. There was a corner and a round sweep and...

“Lytus?” Osphos’s voice filtered down from above. He was annoyed. “Pack it in. We’ll get back to it first thing in the—”

“I’ve found something!” I called back. “It’s an object. I’m not sure...”

Eyeholes. A facelike shape. My heart thudded.

“It’s a mask,” I said excitedly. “One of Theirs.”

“What?!” Neisa had come back down the staircase. Light from her lantern spilled into the space. “What condition?”

“Intact, I think.”

She knelt down beside me with a brush of her own. Together we worked to carefully expose the surface of the mask. The sediment here was dry and loose, spilling away in small showers of particulate. All at once, the object came free, along with a mass of unpacked earth. Out of instinct, I put out a hand to catch it.

“Watch it,” Neisa said. “Careful not to—”

I was standing on the stairs, alone. Light was coming from somewhere—not quartzlight, from somewhere below me. Coming up out of the stone itself. I was descending... or had I been ascending? My mind was kuru, and... What? Dark. Foggy. My mind was foggy. What was happening? Where was—

Suddenly the ground lurched, and there was a roaring noise above. I staggered against the smooth poha... no, stone. Against the stone, and the avo flickered below me. The light flickered, rather. Then another tremor knocked me sideways, and stars broke out in my aku as my head struck the poha hard. The avo went out, and the roaring was all around, and it was kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—

“...touch it,” Neisa finished. The metal of the mask was cold against my fingers. The stairs spun, and I felt sick for a moment. Then it was over. I quickly transferred the mask to a strip of harak-cloth, handling it gingerly.

“What was... What did you say?” I shook my head. “Don’t touch it?”

“Yeah... uh, you alright? You look pale.”

I grinned. “I’m fine. Could use some fresh air though. You feeling superstitious or something?”

She scoffed. “I don’t know why I said that. It was silly.”

“You know they say these masks trap the souls of their wearers...”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Neisa bent down to examine the artifact. “Amazing. I’ve only seen them behind glass, or in the sterile rooms at Naqua.”

“Yeah, this is... It’s a find,” I said. The mask felt heavy and solid in my hands.

There was a murmur on the stairs, and I could hear Osphos’s grumbling voice descending toward us. He turned the corner.

“What now?” he said. “Tell me you’ve found something to make this worthwhile.”

“Think so,” I said, holding up the mask.

“What’s that?”

“Are you blind?” Neisa laughed. “It’s a Kanochus Mat—”

“No,” Osphos said, pointing past us. “That.”

There was a cavity in the wall of earth before us. It must have opened up when we removed the mask. 

“The bottom!” Neisa said excitedly. She moved forward, shining her light through the gap. 

She stopped. It wasn’t the bottom. I could already see. My heart was still thudding. It was dark. It was roaring in my ears. There was a smell, strangely metallic... and another shape sticking out of the dirt. Not a mask.

Fingers. A hand. An arm.

A face. Flat, blank eyes. A circular, wedge-like mouth. Open.

One of Them.

*  *  *

We stood around the examination table with its harak-draped contents—Osphos, Neisa, and myself. It was afternoon, and Solis was already falling toward the horizon, casting red shadows through the fabric of the tent.

Osphos broke the silence: “I don’t need to impress upon either of you how significant a find this is. Maybe the most significant I’ve overseen.”

“That’s for sure,” Neisa said. “The protobiologists back at the Institute would lose it if they knew...”

“They would, and hopefully they still will.” 

We had worked to remove the body from the shrine over the course of the day—Osphos, Neisa, and myself, in shifts. It had been difficult work, but uneventful. Bit by bit we’d brushed away the packed earth and ancient sediment, revealing more and more of the remains. Now extricated from its tomb, the body lay on the large table before us, still wrapped, ready to be examined.

Before today, I’d only ever seen bits and pieces, partial casts of exoskeletons, mock-ups of skull-like faces... But this was different. It was completely intact, as far as we could tell: head, torso, limbs. A monumental find. The first complete specimen of what we called Matorus Matans. 

“Before we start, there’s the matter of our timetable,” Osphos continued. “We obviously weren’t expecting a development like this, and that means priorities have changed.” He looked at me: “We might not get back to the shrine. I’m sorry, Lytus.”

My heart sank. “You’re sure? The shrine is pretty significant on its own, and we still haven’t reached the base layer.”

“It’s not going anywhere. The Adherents can have their Node if they want, and we’ll work something out via the Institute later if necessary. These... remains... have to be our focus now. I want them cataloged and prepared for transport offsite.”

“Offsite?” Neisa raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty drastic.”

“There’s good reason,” Osphos said. “The Adherents have some odd notions when it comes to remains of this kind.”

“I mean, they’ll want them interred I suppose, but...”

“Maybe. It’s complicated—”

The tent-flap opened, and someone else entered carrying a bundle of implements. It was one of the junior researchers—Cyrcia.

“Yes?” Osphos said flatly.

“I told her that she could observe,” I said, beckoning her in. “Neisa and I thought we could use an extra set of hands.”

“You’ve done catalog before?” Osphos asked.

“Yes, I have,” Cyrcia replied. Her eyes passed over the table and its contents, then back up. “It’s a real honor, I’ve gotta say—”

“I’m sure it is. Grab a tablet, and get ready to make notes.” Osphos turned to the table, cracked his knuckles. 

“The light’s a bit better now. Neisa, will you do the honors?”

Neisa began to carefully pull back the cloth that covered the body while I unrolled a bundle of fine tools. The limbs and lower torso were still encrusted with sediment. I’d start with that while Neisa took her measurements. We each began to call out observations in turn for Cyrcia to transcribe. We moved quickly, notating and tagging the legs and the squared-off feet, then the lower torso with its segments, then the upper torso.

“One and a half thori across the chest,” Neisa called out, “and we’ll say ten sub-thori for the arms...”

“Primary exoskeleton is of common morphology,” Osphos said. “Similar format to those recovered from the Galian Sea. Connective tissues are mostly decayed...” 

“Some surface corrosion around the joining plates,” I added. “Centerline and upper shoulders. Only 1-2 ditori of penetration. Make note for dating purposes, mark upper-left buckle for cross-sectioning...”

“Twelve sub-thori across the lower mid-section. Five sub-thori for each of the radial pistons...”

“Tissue residue along the clavicle struts. Mark for lab-sampling. Limbs and neck will need to be secured for transport...”

Finally, we reached the head. I tugged the cloth upward and pulled it off. Cyrcia gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

“First time?” Neisa said, smiling.

“Yes, but... shouldn’t it be... shouldn’t it stay covered?”

“It’s a corpse,” Osphos said. “Just a body, like yours or mine. Several ten-myriads older, but nothing to be afraid of, despite all the superstitions.”

“Right... sorry.”

“Can you handle it?”

“I can.”

“Good. Let’s keep going then. And remember—no souvenirs. We’re not bone hunters here.”

Neisa rolled her eyes. The practice of fashioning talismans from Their relics and remains had fortunately been curbed in recent centuries, though you could still find them in the odd back-alley market. 

We finished primary cataloging, and Osphos stepped to one of the crates, removing a bundle he had stored there. He moved back to the table and unwrapped it. Smooth metal glinted in the tent. Two eyeholes stared up at the tent-roof. Cyrcia’s eyes goggled at the ancient mask.

“Shall we do a match-up?” Neisa asked, nodding to the exposed face. “This would have been the specimen’s personal Kanochus. It must have been separated during whatever flood or mudslide buried the shrine.”

There was a noise in my ears. Roaring noise, and a memory of a dark place... I shook it off as Osphos moved to the head of the table after double-checking the mask’s interior. He lowered the mask gingerly over the face, lining up the mouth-apertures. There was a faint click. Neisa leaned over to see how it fit over the side-vents—

Dark eyes glowed, and a light winked on in the center of the chest. Pistons hissed. Joints creaked. The body sat up suddenly in a shower of dust, limbs convulsing, fingers clenching and unclenching. I stumbled backward in shock, tripping over the low crates that lined the tent-wall. The masked face swiveled mechanically in my direction, and there was a noise. Not a noise—a voice. The rounded wedge-mouth was grinding out syllables at me. Alien sounds. Alien words. I put up my hands to ward it off, and—

Everyone was standing still. The eyes were dark. The body had not moved. I was sitting on a crate, my ears ringing. Neisa was looking down at me with a concerned expression. 

“You okay, Lytus?”

“I... I got dizzy,” I lied.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” Osphos asked. He had removed the mask and was wrapping it up again. 

“A few hours at least. I’m fine, really.” I stood up, looking at the motionless body warily, trying to compose myself. No one else had seen what I had seen. It hadn’t really happened. Neisa was still looking at me. 

“Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. First in the shrine, and then this. Maybe you should see a medic.”

Before I could reply, the tent-flap opened and another worker poked his head in. He was out of breath.

“Sorry, to bother you, boss, but there’s, uh... Someone’s here to talk to you.”

“Someone?” Osphos frowned.

“There was an airship, not two minutes ago. It landed beyond the ridge, and someone’s approaching from the trail.”

“Herem’s Eye,” Osphos swore.

*  *  *

The rangers escorted the strangers—there were two of them, actually—down to the edge of the camp. 

One was tall—clearly an Athori—and as he approached, it was plain that he was fully armored; head to toe, like the Glatorian of old. The other was much shorter, bent over, leaning on a staff. It was a Skrall—an ancient one, by the head-crest. 

Both of them wore metal masks. Only their eyes were visible.

The tall one planted himself just ahead, his squared-off, armored feet crunching in the gravel. The Skrall settled himself on a low metal stool beside him.

Osphos stepped forward. “Welcome,” he said politely. “I am Osphos, the overseer of this excavation. And you are?”

“My designation is Tasius,” the tall one said. His voice rang harsh behind the mask. “I am a Toa of the Adherency, of the Ackarian line. This...” he gestured to the Skrall, “...is Tura Shozu, elder of the Adherent Node at New Tellu. We have been sent to make claim upon this site.

“You’ve lost no time, it seems,” Osphos said dryly. “I wasn’t aware the Quadrate had opened the site at this time.”

“The site and its contents must be turned over at once. We—” Tasius stopped suddenly. The Skrall had raised a wizened hand.

“You are aware,” the elder said in a thin voice, “that the Adherency is granted right of access to all sites attributed to the System of Mata, are you not?”

“Well aware, yes. That is what we aim to determine: the provenance of the site, and the proper methods of its excavation and preservation, according to our charter.”

“Preservation or contamination?” The Skrall’s glance flicked to the tents behind us. “Our intelligence has indicated that this site is of particular significance to the Adherency.”

“You can follow the proper channels to make your claims, like everyone else.”

The Skrall continued undeterred:

“We have been made aware of certain... remains... left at this site. What is their nature, and how have they been contained?”

I could see the muscles in Osphos’s jaw flexing.

“Our excavation is less than two days old. May I ask the source of your ‘intelligence’?”

“The System is knowledge. Through Unity, knowledge is shared.”

“Fascinating,” Osphos said. “Well, regardless of your sources, I can’t give you access to the site at this time. By charter, the Quadrate has—”

“Animal remains, yes? Within the structure. I was led to believe that it was a beast.”

“I’m not at liberty to make that assessment.”

“May I see the remains?”

“All materials found at this site will be made publicly available.”

“I demand to see the remains.”

“No.”

The Skrall smiled. “Thank you for your candor. We have a truth-saying, amongst the Nodes: ‘The people of the world are of one nature or the other: Look into their hearts, and you will see that they are either Builders or Destroyers.”

“With respect, I believe it may be more complicated than that.”

“Then I have looked into your heart.”

“Uh…thank you. Is that all, Tura? We have a lot of work still to do.”

“I shall take word of our conversation to the Node Hierarchy and return later.”

“Fine by me.”

The Skrall put out a crooked hand and closed it into a fist in the manner of the Adherents. He inclined his head, waiting. After a moment, Osphos stepped forward and pressed his own fist against the elder’s. Then it was over. The Athori helped the Skrall to stand, and the two of them departed back up the slope, accompanied by the rangers. Osphos stood and watched, tapping his foot. He spoke quietly, keeping his face fixed in a smile.

“So much for offsite transport,” he growled after a few minutes. “They’ll have eyes on the camp now. By Angon, if we’d been just a bit quicker...” He swore again. Then, satisfied that the rangers had escorted the Toa far enough, he turned back to the camp. 

“Nothing for it now. Let’s clean up and get things packed away. Oh, and Lytus—”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep—for real this time. I can’t have you falling over again during sensitive work.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

*  *  *

I didn’t sleep well that night after all. Instead, I dreamed. 

Long, complicated dreams. Dreams that didn’t make any sense. I was in the stairwell of the shrine again. I was on a bright, open plain. I was speaking words and sentences that meant nothing to me. I was running from a dark, crashing wave that rolled over me and pressed on my face, on my mouth. 

I was walking on the open plain again, and two suns were shining down on me. My face was still covered though, somehow. I reached up to claw at whatever was there. It came away in my hands. 

It was my face, staring up at me. 

I was lying in my cot, and the tent was dark. The desert night was cold outside. I shivered and turned over. There was a noise at the tent-flap, something scraping in the dirt. The dull ring of metal on poha... on stone. 

The flaps shook. It was trying to get in. It was grinding, grinding words and syllables at me, words that meant nothing. It was roaring, roaring noise and darkness, darker than the night. It was kuru, ai kuru, roaring over the camp, crashing through the walls of my tent in a wave and sweeping me down into dark, into kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—

“Lytus?” Neisa’s voice brought me fully awake. It was morning. My bleary eyes focused, and I could see her silhouette through the side of the tent. “Lytus, you awake?”

“I’m up, sorry. What’s going on?”

“The emissary from the Adherents is back. Osphos is speaking with them.”

“Oh. What should we do?”

“Osphos said to stay put. Probably wouldn’t look good to have everyone out at the shrine right now.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah I’m heading over to one of the storage tents to help with tagging. Want to help?”

“Sure, I’ll follow you over in a bit.”

After a few minutes, I stepped outside into the pale red sunlight. I could see Osphos and a couple of the rangers on the far side of the circle of tents. The Athori and the Skrall were there as well. Their voices echoed faintly in the morning air, and I found myself walking closer. I stepped behind one of the taller tents nearby.

“...does not accord with our canons,” the Skrall was saying. 

“I confess, Shozu—can I call you Shozu?”

“The correct title is ‘Tura’,” another voice said brusquely—the armored Athori.

“Sorry... Tura,” Osphos continued. “I’m not as familiar with the canons of Adherency as I should be, but I can assure you—”

“It is of utmost importance that we examine the site. The Kanohi in particular must be handed over.”

They knew about the mask somehow. Had they been spying on the camp?

“As I’ve said, that is something to take up with the Quadrate.”

“It is already in process, but the matter is urgent.”

“I must adhere to my charter and await further orders. Until then, we’ll continue our work.”

“We must be allowed to supervise. My companion here is trained in the handling of such objects. They must be treated with utmost care.”

“Yes, and—”

“And these remains—they must be verified. Some hapless bone hunter or a beast, I’m sure.”

“As I’ve told you, it is clearly a specimen of Matorus Matans, good Tura. There’s no mistaking it.”

“And as I have said, this is not in accord with our canons. Such things only lead to greater kuru.”

“Pardon?”

“Greater obscurity—my apologies. The Children of Mata are not some extinct automaton race. We ourselves are the heirs to the Great System Hierarchy. You must understand—”

“Your beliefs are your own.”

“...The Kanohi are precious. They connect us to the spirit of Mata, and to the spirits of those from the Before Time...” 

My mind was racing, an avalanche of thoughts, fragments of dreams. A roaring noise, and dark, and kuru... What was happening to me? The Kanohi are precious... They connect us to the spirit of Mata...

What if...?

“Only then can we hope to repair the Shattering,” the elder was saying.

“With respect,” Osphos replied, “the Shattering is ancient history. It was repaired, at least five myriads ago.”

“A common myth, but it is a great untruth.”

I could tell Osphos was short on patience by now: “I can literally point it out to you in the strata. You see that ridge there? The Sakerran Ridge? It’s the tail end of a subduction zone where the Botan and Baran plates met—”

The Skrall laughed dryly: “A fantastical narrative, I admit, that a planet could be broken in pieces. But the reality is much more abstract. We ourselves live within the Shattering, my friend: the decay of the Great System Hierarchy of the Great Beings, which they called Mata Nui...” 

“I do not—”

“We the Matoran,” the Skrall continued, ignoring him, “the Children of Mata, work now to rebuild and restore the Great System, in accordance with our canon. To connect all things together, till the scattered elements are made whole. Only then will the Great Beings return and truly heal this world.”

A long moment passed. The air was thick with tension.

“Ahem... I do not believe this conversation is productive,” Osphos said at last. “I’m not granting you access to the site at this time—no matter what your canons say. You’ll just have to wait for your request to be approved by the Quadrate, and that’s that, by Angon.”

Something happened. There was a scuffling noise, and the clank of armor.

“Hold it! That’s enough, you—”

I peeked over the top of the tent. The Athori—the one who had called himself a ‘Toa’—was standing between Osphos and the Skrall now, fists clenched. For a moment, I thought... I thought the air around him was shimmering with heat, like high noon on the desert. Then it was gone. There were rangers standing all around, and I noticed that they had weapons at the ready. One of them swung a bolas lazily.

“Control your guard, Shozu,” Osphos spat. “My reports go directly to the Quadrate. They’ll hear of this.”

“Take not the names of the Great Beings in vain!” the Skrall said indignantly, pointing a crooked finger from his stool. “The canon shall not be denied, nor shall it be mocked.”

“I’ve said all I have to say, by Angon.” He emphasized the expletive. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Tura, I’m on a timetable—”

“Such things lead only to kuru and ukuru worse! We must strive for clarity...!”

I had heard enough. Quietly I crept away between the tents, back toward the other side of the camp. The Skrall’s words spun in my mind as I walked. Kuru and ukuru worse. Something was wrong—ever since I had touched that mask... was that when it started? What did the Skrall know? I wanted to tell someone, but who would believe it? I was tired, that was all. It had been a long few days, full of strangeness and excitement. That must be it. I hoped so...

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. We didn’t get much work done—mostly tagging and storing various artifacts found around the site. I was itching to get back to the shrine, but Osphos was wary. He had sent couriers south to apprise our Quadrate contacts of the situation, but they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Until then, we were stuck.

In the evening, Osphos sought me out. He had a bundle under one arm.

“Here, Lytus. I’d like you to keep this in your tent.”

It was the mask. My mouth was suddenly very dry.

“Is that, uh, necessary?”

“Maybe not, but I’m taking no chances. The Adherents aren’t getting any more patient. Neisa’s keeping some other artifacts, and I think I’ll sleep in the examination tent tonight, just in case.”

“You mean... with the body?”

“Don’t make it sound creepier than it is.”

“Sorry.”

He offered the mask. I took it. My fingers felt numb.

“Tell you what, we’ll take another pass at excavating the shrine in the morning, try to get to the bottom.” 

“That’s great! I’ll have my gear ready.”

“Only one day left to go, so what have we got to lose, right?”

The mask felt heavier than I remembered.

*  *  *

I had the dream again that night, or something like it. A stairwell, a bright plain with two suns. A dark roaring... Then... Then something else. A dim enclosure. Fabric walls. A tent? I was lying on my back, and my limbs were bound tight. My face was covered, but not with heavy suffocating darkness like before. It was lightweight, like cloth. I struggled, I yelled. My words were meaningless again. 

The tent-flap shook, like last time. I could hear it, the scraping, the grinding. It was trying to get in, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything. The entrance parted, and there was darkness outside. Darkness on the ground, and in the darkness... now there was a crawling thing. Crawling, dragging itself through the dust, right up to the place where I lay. I could feel it. See it, even though my face was covered. Its flat eyes glowed, and its mouth was open. Grasping hands rose up toward me and searched, reached, searched—

I was standing in front of myself, seeing myself. I was stretched out beneath the covering, on the table. I was walking under stars, and my hands were full of something. I looked down and saw that I was holding my face. It looked up at me, up at the stars. I tried to put it back on, but it wasn’t my face anymore. It was glowing eyes and grasping hands, and a mouth grinding syllables and words. It was a shape under fabric, stretched out on a table in the dark, and I stood before it, holding its face... my face. 

I clawed at the covering, trying to pull it off, but the noise was approaching again. The roaring, rolling noise, and my face... its face... my face was grinding alien sounds and alien words, and it was so dark in the stairwell, in the cold, heavy earth. So dark under the cloying wrap of fabric, so kuru it was, and ukuru worse, ai kuru, ai ukuru—

I awakened in a cold sweat and rolled over. My hands slid in sand, and a stinging thornbush brought me fully awake. I wasn’t in my cot. Wasn’t in my tent. How...? It was still nighttime, but there were lights in the encampment, and the sound of people running. I could hear voices. What was happening? I stumbled up, brushing dust from my face, and realized that I was in the space next to my own tent. I went to the entrance and looked inside. No one there. Then I looked out toward the center of the camp, trying to get my bearings.

A figure came out of the darkness, and I flinched as it grabbed my arm. It was Osphos. He was out of breath.

“Where is it, Lytus?” he hissed. “The body—it’s gone!”

“What, from the examination tent?”

“Yes that body, by Angon. Did you do something? I didn’t even hear...”

“N-no, of course not!”

“What about Neisa? Have you seen her?”

“I haven’t.”

“Have you seen anyone?!”

“No, I just woke up!”

“Adherents...” He ground his teeth. “Ah, the Quadrate will hear of this...”

“Wait—Are you sure?”

“Who else? It’s gone from the tent, but nothing else has been taken. I came right here once I realized. Where’s the mask? Has anyone been in your tent?” He pushed past me, through the entrance.

A crawling thing, a thing with glowing eyes, reaching out... but that wasn’t my tent, was it?

“N-no, no one,” I stammered. 

“Where did you put it? I have to be sure.”

I moved to the back of the tent and opened my personal crate. The hinges creaked. “It’s right here, see?”

The mask was gone, wrapping and all. Osphos saw.

“Acta!” he cursed, and then let fly a string of imprecations, invoking the dream-eater and the death-mind, among others. “What, were you drugged or something?!”

“I don’t know... Osphos, I—” I tried to get it out. “I had a dream, or I thought it was a dream. I keep seeing things...”

“Spare me.” He stormed out of the tent, and I followed, feeling absolutely bewildered. There was too much happening, too fast. 

“Go find Neisa,” Osphos ordered. “I’m heading back to the examination tent. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, boss.”

I snatched up a quartz-lantern and made my way across the encampment toward Neisa’s tent. Hers was the last tent on the outer ring of the camp. My lantern cast a pale glow over the ground as I went, and I could see that there were lights in the hills now, figures moving up and down the steppe. The rangers were likely combing the perimeter. I stopped for a moment to watch, then realized that I had stupidly lost track of which tent was which. Was Neisa on the east or the west side?

I backtracked. The tents all looked the same in the quartzlight. I took a different turn... and now found myself standing on the path that led out to the open part of the valley. Out toward the shrine.

There were footprints in the dirt. Very fresh. Hard-edged, square toe. Where had I seen that before? I looked up the path, raising the lantern. There was something else. I stepped forward to investigate. It was a heap of cloth, harak-cloth, in small strips. Further up the path, there was another bundle cast to the side.

I kept walking, quickening my pace. More bits of cloth here and there. More footprints. Soon, the edge of the shrine loomed ahead. I moved toward it, stepping gingerly through the rope-grids that were stretched over the ground. I made a circuit of the shrine, then I climbed up on top. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. I shed quartzlight all around, then I stooped to look into the stairwell. The dust on the stairs had recently been disturbed—

“Get down from there,” a voice said, and I whirled to see the towering figure of the Athori Tasius standing on the trail.

“You—” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have every right,” the Athori said, stepping forward. “Remove yourself from the sacred Amaja!”

I put up my hands appeasingly and complied, climbing back down to the ground and taking a few steps toward him.

“I saw footprints on the trail up here,” I said. “Were they yours?”

“On the trail? No. I came from the hills. I have been charged to keep watch over the Amaja, to make sure no one further contaminates the site.” 

“Did you see anyone come here ahead of me?”

“No.”

“There’s been a theft in the camp,” I said. “Do you have anything to do with that?” I immediately regretted asking so directly.

“Theft?” The Athori’s eyes widened. “Theft of what?” He took another step toward me.

“Uh...”

“Tell me!”

“The mask! The... the Kanohi, you call it. Someone took it tonight.”

“What else?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

The Athori said a word that was foreign to me. Probably a curse. He looked back toward the camp. His hands were clenched.

“Listen,” I said, “it looks like someone has entered the shrine. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“I am forbidden, without the Tura,” he said.

“Well, I’ll need to check inside.” I took a step back toward the shrine. “It will only take a second. If you’ll just wait here—”

A heavy, armored grip fell on my shoulder and I was forcefully turned back around. The Athori was fast, and very strong.

“The Amaja will not be touched again,” his voice said, deadly serious. I could feel hot breath through the mouth-piece of his mask. “You and your people have brought rahi upon this place, but no more. Now, I—”

He stopped suddenly, and I felt his fingers seize. He was looking past me, up at the shrine. I turned slowly.

Glowing eyes. An ancient mask. A small figure stood upon the top of the shrine, unmoving. I could see it. The Athori could see it. It was no hallucination this time. Not a dream.

“M-manas!” the Athori croaked. “Get back!”

He shoved me to the side before I could say a word.

And then he burst into flame.

Real flame, like the elementals of old who had been devoured by the Great Beings’ wrath. I didn’t even have time to register shock or surprise before the heat washed over me. Instinctively I threw up my arms to protect myself.

“Stop!” I shouted, scrambling away. “You’ll damage the site! Stop it!”

The fire whirled up and resolved into a glowing nimbus around the Athori’s hands and head. He drew a strange tool from a slot in his armor, and aimed it at the figure atop the shrine.

“No!”

Something flew out of the dark—a whirling rope-like thing—and wrapped itself around Tasius’s burning face and neck. The ends of the bolas whirled for a split second before they snapped tight, and the loud clack of the weights meeting their target made my teeth hurt. The fire went out suddenly, and the scene plunged into darkness. I heard the tramp of feet on the path, and voices shouting. Quartzlight bobbed in the distance. 

I was already up and over the top of the shrine before I knew what I was doing. The figure was gone. The opening of the stairwell yawned before me—cool dark after the furnace heat—and I was scrambling down the stairs, two at a time.

“Wait!” I shouted, but my voice was blunted on the stone. “Come back!” 

Turn after turn I went. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was pitch-black. I should have grabbed my lantern, but I had dropped it. I realized my hands were burned. They stung when I touched the wall, feeling my way along. I stumbled, picked myself up, and then felt earth against my fingers. The wall of earth where we had stopped excavating. No one was here... Had I been mistaken? Had the figure not gone back into the shrine? Maybe it had run off... 

There was light, I realized. It wasn’t pitch-black here. My eyes adjusted, and I saw with a shock that the earth wall wasn’t a wall anymore. It had been dug through, shoveled back and shored up into the walls of a narrow tunnel. When had the others done this? Why hadn’t they notified me? There were handprints in the dust, I noticed. Squared-off palm, five fingers.

Heedless, I push on, squeezing through the tunnel, wriggling on my chest. For a moment I thought I was stuck, and panic surged, but then I was through, and there was no more earth. No more dirt or sediment. The stairs on the other side were clear, pristine. We had been so close, after all. 

The light was stronger here, filtering up from somewhere below me. Coming up out of the stone itself. I had been here before, hadn’t I? No, not possible. I had just come through the tunnel... and I was descending... or had I been ascending? My mind was... my mind was kuru, and... foggy... What was I doing here again? I was waiting for something, wasn’t I? Waiting for a roaring sound... a darkness to come and cover me. I had been here many times, in my dreams.

No, that had been before, long ago. This time it was different. I was descending, and the light was getting stronger. Another bend of the stairs, and then the stairs ended.

It was a round, level, circular room—just like the many others I had seen before. The first thing I noticed was the Pedestal. In shrines of this kind, there was usually a square pedestal at one end, surmounted by a face-like image. In later types, the image was the skull of an animal, usually a Spikit or an Ironwolf.

On this one, there was a mask. It was the mask. It was glowing, and the light was coming out of every surface. My heart was thudding. 

I was not alone. The body lay in a heap on the ground before the pedestal. I could see scorch marks on its back and upper arms. I came closer and saw that it was moving slightly. Slow breaths. The eyes glowed faintly.

I touched it, gently, almost reverently. It was strange how my mind resisted the idea that this was no longer... remains... It was living, somehow. After all these eons, it was alive. The dim eyes shifted, fixed on me. The mouth moved, and the wedge-like shapes ground out their halting syllables and words, but I still could not understand. 

How had it gotten the mask?

A crawling thing, with glowing eyes, searching, reaching. 

A shape under fabric, stretched out on a table in the dark. 

What was happening to me?

I was walking under stars. I was crawling, dragging through the dust. I was standing in front of myself, looking down at myself. I was holding my face in my hands. I was touching an ancient mask in a small, cramped space, and sparks were leaping into me. Its metal was cold against my fingers. The Kanohi are precious, I remembered. They connect us to the spirit of Mata...

It was dark all around. It was roaring. It was kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—

A metal hand touched me weakly and brought me back to reality. The finger pointed up at the glowing mask atop the pedestal, and I understood. It needed the mask—its personal Kanochus.The mask had activated the shrine, but the circuit was incomplete. It needed the mask back, in order to accomplish whatever purpose it intended. Whatever purpose it had been kept from all those eons ago.

There was a noise on the stairs. Voices murmuring. The thud of metal on stone. How much time had passed? I had lost track. They would be looking for me. Hopefully the rangers had done their work.

“I’m here!” I shouted up. The voices continued. The hand gripped my arm again. The mouth ground out more words.

“I know,” I said. 

I stood and pulled the mask off the pedestal. It sparked in my hands, and I felt a charge go through me... or maybe that feeling had already been there, ever since I touched the mask, days ago. Something had been clinging to me. I felt it now. Something intangible, something in my thoughts and my dreams. I had joked about trapped souls to Neisa, but now I wasn’t so sure...

The light increased. I bent toward the body... not just a body—toward the Matoran... and—

A wave of heat rushed down the stairwell, and a burning smell filled the chamber. I froze, and fear surged in my chest as I turned my head to look.

It was the old Skrall. He was standing on the stairs, leaning on his staff. His eyes were sharp behind his mask, and somewhere in the back of my mind it clicked, that although the masks of the Adherents were clearly forged like the one I now held, they were subtly different, like a picture whose original reference had been lost. A copy of a copy of a copy...

“Hold a moment,” the Skrall said urgently. “You stand on sacred ground. Disturb not the machines of the Great Beings.”

“I don’t know what that means.” I stood up and turned around slowly. The Skrall’s eyes widened as he saw what I was holding... and what was slumped behind me.

“That Kanohi...” he hissed, descending another step. “It is meant for the Children of Mata alone. You must give it to me—it is not for you to touch!”

“I’ve already touched it. It has... shown me things. Things I don’t understand.”

The Skrall’s breath hissed in his mask.

“Give it to me, and all shall be restored to unity.”

“It’s not yours. It belongs to... to this one.” I pointed at the Matoran. The dim eyes looked at the wizened elder, but the Skrall averted his gaze.

“This is not in accord with our canons,” he intoned. 

“I don’t—”

“Such things only lead to greater kuru.”

I was on a stairway. I was on a great open plain, beneath two suns. My face was covered, but it was not my face. Not anymore. It belonged to someone else.

“You’re wrong.” I held the mask close.

“The canon shall not be denied, nor shall it be mocked. Give me the mask.”

The Skrall was not alone now. Another figure moved into the stairwell behind him. A cracked and broken mask, a bruised and bloodied face. More heat poured into the chamber as the Athori Tasius descended, eyes still glowing with fire.

I shrank back to the pedestal, and the lights of the shrine brightened further. The Matoran moved pitifully. We were trapped. The pedestal was humming. Waiting. 

Waiting.

The Athori was moving, hindered by the small opening. His armored hand reached out at me, white-hot.

But I had already placed the mask on the Matoran’s face, and the charge that I had felt in my body went out of me... back into the mask, into the Matoran.

And the shrine was blazing white with light, and the pedestal was retracting into the wall. And the Skrall was staggering back onto the stairs, eyes raving. And the Athori was still moving forward, overbalanced, tipping forward into suddenly empty space.

The walls were pulled back and then were gone as the bottom of the shrine became a circular platform and dropped down, down into pitch-black. The stairwell shrank into the distance above us, and I saw the Athori hang for a moment, glowing with heat. Then he fell, whirling like a fiery meteor, right past the edge of the descending platform and away into the greater dark. 

Gone.

A few moments passed, maybe longer. I sank down on the platform, exhausted and spent. The Matoran was sitting next to me. It reached out and gripped my shoulder with its metal hand. Its eyes were glowing bright again, and the light in its chest blinked steadily, despite the corrosion and scorch-marks that covered the rest of its body. It looked at me, and its mouth shifted into a different configuration. 

I think it was smiling. 

Cold air rushed past us as we fell onward, onward into unknown. I don’t know how long we spent in that smooth descent. I looked up and saw nothing above, and nothing on either side. I wondered if I would ever see the surface again, if I would ever have a chance to tell someone. I wondered what was happened or had happened in the camp. I wondered if anyone else but the two Adherents knew what had happened to me, to the mask, to the Matoran...

Except for the light of the platform beneath us, it was dark all around. Featureless, unbroken dark. 

“Kuru,” I said aloud, unbidden, remembering the word.

“Ha te ai kuru,” my companion replied, nodding.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. 

“Ukuru,” I said.

“Ru,” it replied, standing up. “Ru te aikuru. Akuya.”

The Matoran went to the edge of the platform—too close for my comfort—and pointed out into the surrounding dark. 

“Akuya,” it said, and gestured at my... my eyes. My aku. Look. It beckoned me and pointed again. And hesitating, shivering, I rose and went to where it stood, and looked out. And I saw:

Rising up over us, ascending as we descended into the depths of Spherus Magna... Deeper than any excavation could reach, deeper than the catacombs of lost Atero, or the mass tombs of the Glatori hosts, farther and deeper than the silo-vaults of the Great Beings, or the maze-labyrinths of Old Skralla, or the vast mutated seabeds of Old Spherus... Far beyond the reach of Quadrates or Adherencies, of charters or canons...

Past the unknown dark, the aikuru...

There were stars, and two suns rising.

#bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction #works #outofgloom #spherus magna

[emilybeemartin]

tag writing game

Thank you @nihilizzzm for creating this game and @ass-deep-in-demons for tagging me!

If you are a writer, share a piece of your yet unfinished writing. Can be a sentence or a dialogue or anything really. Short, long, whatever. I want to see what you all are working on and admire some amazing writing. I think it might be fun. Here is mine from forever unfinished one shot.

I know you all want fic, lol, but I'm going to keep that close to my chest for the moment, so have the opening excerpt from a very baby manuscript about a National Park ranger whose job is the same as normal except there are also mythical creatures:

Sam Baxter was going to be late for work, and it was all because of the stupid dragon. The specimen was a juvenile, not yet a decade old, without any of the mottled patterning of maturity on its gray-gold scales. It was a male, given the size of his horned crest and the red flush to the keratin. The yellow plastic tag punched through one of its cranial scales identified him as E-617, one of the offspring of the Echo clan that occupied territory around Swan Flats, but Sam didn’t need to see the code to know who he was. This juvenile was known to all the park staff of Yellowstone. They’d gotten emails about him just last week, after he’d tried to fight a minibus in the Mammoth hotel parking lot. Six One Seven was entering his first season of sexual maturity, and he was more hormone-addled than a gym full of high school juniors on prom night.

Tagging @e-louise-bates @chiropteracupola @kaatiba no stress, only if yall want to

#900% inspired by the time I was treed by elk before work in Great Smoky Mountains #wip #authors of tumblr #national park fantasy #tag game

[respectthepetty]

Hi! First off all, brain praise: I LOVE THE WAY YOU SEE I LOVE THE WAY YOU ANALYZE I LOVE THE WAY YOU THINK

*clears throat and shifts feet *

How much do you think the colors apply to people in real life? How far are someone's true colors (hah) identifiable through the colors and accessories they wear? And does your brain highlight those for you in real life too? (If yes please elaborate please)

Do people choose the colors they like consciously and then over time the qualities/traits get magnified/infused (?) or do the qualities make you subconsciously choose those colors as silent representation of the inner self?

Like if a red rascal consistently and consciously is trying to be a green guy or blue boy, will wearing those colors change his red rascal-ness over time?

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read through this

Anon, go look at your closet. What does it say about you? Is it an accurate representation of who you are as a person.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But I KNOW colors apply to people in real life, and I've written about this in other posts:

Why the colors?

Color-coding groups

Cultural color coding

Real-life color coding

Real-life color coding Part 2

Visual Rhetoric

But I'm going to be more scientific in my answer here since you want specifics.

TLWR: The colors mean things in real life, but we cannot color code the same as in visual media.

Most of these research studies are hidden behind a paywall, but the links will show you the abstracts.

A 2013 study found that people who were ovulating wore more red and pink clothing. It was a subconscious decision to highlight they were fertile [x]. However, when the study was conducted again in 2021, the results were not significant. The researchers suggested this change was due to a shift in unwanted attention (e.g. MeToo Movement). [x]

But women who wear red in the service industry receive more tips from men. [x]

Sports psychologist have long noted that players who wear red are deemed more aggressive than those who wear blue. Players who wear green are judged more fairly. [x] [x]

Several studies have found that people who wear black are seen as more attractive, specifically men [x]. There is an entire book about the historical context of Men in Black. [x]

During times of global competitions (World Cup, Olympics, etc.) color association is the strongest for national identities. For example, this study showed that orange was consistently associated with The Netherlands regardless if the person wearing it was Dutch. [x]

Research in educational design, interior design, and architecture concludes that colors affect the space in terms of emotions and production. [x]

Plants react differently depending on the color of the lighting they receive [x]. Animals as well. [x]

Colors mean things.

However, when you ask how colors affect people in "real life" I always have to give a tiny lecture because the term "real life" is broad. I know what you are asking, but art is real life. What colors we see on our screens have a real-world connection; therefore, they have real life implications. Barbie being pink is real life because pink in Eurocentric ideals is a feminine color, and Barbie is the epitome of femininity. We see this carry over into other pieces of visual media like Power Rangers where for thirty years, the Pink Ranger has been a woman.

The Japanese equivalent of Power Rangers finally had a male Pink Ranger in 2022, but culturally, Japan isn't tied to feminine pink the way the United States is. We use these colors in media because they mean something in real life.

But most people do not consciously go around choosing colors. People have favored colors, and they gravitate towards them more. People also have favored prints and styles such as florals or hoodies. So trying to categorize people based on the colors they wear in their everyday lives could quickly fall into dangerous territory, especially because a lot more goes into “real life” choices.

Neutral colors are more accessible in clothing – black and white. Blue can be found in nature; therefore, it has been easier to duplicate in dyes using natural resources. The red dye we typically use today comes from squishing a bug. When inventing new colors that weren’t seen in nature or that could not be duplicated through natural means, we used dangerous ingredients that could not and should not have been produced on a large scale.

All of this is to say that it is difficult for us to color code in real life because we do not have unlimited closets to pick items from like production teams. Most of us are not rich, so we must purchase what is available on the public market, and we must wear what we have available on the public market. Looking briefly at any clothing store, we can see how limiting those options can be:

This man cannot be a Red Rascal nor a Pink Person because the options do not exist for him at this store, and this is true of most men’s clothing. Because we live in a binary society, we get binary options. Men can’t be colorful unless it's blue (standard boy color), but women can. Prime example - The Met Gala.

And yet science tells me that we will find the man in the clothing ad more attractive in black. We will find him more approachable in white. We will deem him nonthreatening in blue-ish grey. We will see him as more of a worker in the tan/brown.

So, yes, I notice colors . . .  because we assign meaning to colors.

If I see someone in a red suit in a crowd of black, I’m going to think that person is bold and wants to stand out, but that might not be true of his everyday nature.

People make subconscious decisions based on the society they live in, so if someone is feeling down or wants to appear more attractive, they might wear more black, but if someone wants to stand out or appear Dutch, they could wear orange.

But because it’s real life, we can’t always pick colors to match our emotions or personality. But we CAN do that in visual media, which is why we do. We can be more intentional about everything in visual media, so we are. Visual media is a more extravagant version of real life. So we can get the boy in the blue and the girl in the pink and when they come together, it makes purple.

I could write about this all day, but I have to work for a living and actually get to teach about this ALL SEMESTER because there is a lot to unpack. This is art, biology, psychology, anthropology, sociology, marketing, and so much more because this is life.

Colors are real life.

And they mean things.

#the colors mean things #color coding in real life #color coding is real life #color association #color symbolism #color psychology #color theory #it's everything #because colors are everything!

[brittle-doughie]

Costume Concepts

Expanding the wardrobe, are we?

Epic: Faithful Sentinel

Guardian of the St. Pastry Order and their beliefs, Y/N Cookie enforces the Reverend Mother’s command with the coldest of justice. She has shown them their path, their destiny to protect the Mother and the secrets that Y/N Cookie now holds within themselves. But where does blind obedience end and true feelings begin?

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Pastry Cookie

Epic: Frostbitten Friend

Within the blizzard, you may see two figures in the distance, one of Snow Sugar Cookie and one of Y/N Cookie. Don’t bother trying to speak to them, Snow Sugar will get upset someone is trying to speak to their friend. The cold has bitten down its jaws on Y/N Cookie and it does not intend to release its holds anytime soon.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Snow Sugar Cookie

Rare: Ruined Survivor

Y/N Cookie can’t remember the last time they’ve seen another cookie. Weeks, months, years, not a single soul to be found but themself. Doing whatever they can to get by in the barren wasteland they now call home, they must do their best to not alert the dragon also remaining in this world.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Longan Dragon Cookie

Epic: Serenade Among the Sirens

Be wise to not be lured in by the blissful music this cookie creates, you’ll never be able to break free once you’re snared. Musician to the BAD 5, this cookie will make sure their music is something that will never leave your head!

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Poison Mushroom Cookie, Red Velvet Cookie, Licorice Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Schwarzwälder

Epic: Cookie of the Ridge

Being banished from their kingdom will not falter this cookie’s commitment to protecting the villages amidst the frozen lands. Bandits fear them and monsters dread them, it’s wise to not cross the Cookie of the Ridge.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Affogato Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie

Super Epic: Handycookie of the Year

Being voted employee of the year through a unanimous vote has led Y/N Cookie to get their engineering suit. Guaranteed that they leave work today without a scratch! Drawback being that their employees seem to stare while they work.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Coffee Candy Cookie, Baguette Cookie, Timekeeper Cookie, Croissant Cookie, String Gummy Cookie

Rare: Partner’s Lament

Heart too broken to ever love again, Y/N Cookie turns down any form of love in fear of getting hurt once more…

Bond Buff: None

Rare: Okchun Ranger

Working for the Okchun family, Y/N Cookie ensures that things are up to code and ready for the Magistrate’s arrival. They’re then the Magistrate’s guard in their arrival, usually seen alongside Okchun Cookie.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Rebel Cookie, Vagabond Cookie

Epic: Heart of the Hivemind

Embracing the infection deep within their dough, the crazed jellied cookies around them follow their command with no hesitation. Those who wish to cure the heart will have to deal with an angry horde of cookies first.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Wasabi Cookie, Angel Cookie

Epic: Industry Star

Ask any cookie on the streets of Los O’ Jellies and 9/10 they’ll tell you they’re a fan of popstar Y/N Cookie! You can find this cookie being swamped by both their career and their fans, but it won’t stop this cookie from being chipper and enthusiastic as always!

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Shining Glitter Cookie, Popping Candy Cookie, Rockstar Cookie, Parfait Cookie, DJ Cookie

Super Epic: Priest of Sky and Sea

The moon and the sea in motion can be a memorable sight, but gazing into their wonder is something reserved for the priest that blesses both each night. The favor is returned with the moon shining as brilliantly as ever and the ocean providing their soothing waves.

Bond Buff: Y/N Cookie, Moonlight Cookie, Sea Fairy Cookie

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #crob #cr kingdom

[isekai-crow]

Mr. Villain's Day Off / Kyuujitsu no Warumono San Episode 1

Overall Rating So Far: 9/10 (i WILL buy merch for this)

MR. VILLAIN IS TOO MUCH CROW BAIT.

I have a thing for curly bowl cuts. I like goth-coded characters, and this demon does a decent job. I love Yakuza/Gangster/Evil coded villains that have gap-moe (a side to them that seems completely counter to the personality they present). Most of all I LOVE SHINTAROU ASANUMA'S VOICE.

He's probably most famous for being Samatoki, the gangster rapper and leader of the Mad Trigger Crew, from Hypnosis Mic, and I've seen him perform at multiple live viewings and his character has a rabid following. His other famous roles are Saiki Kusuo, Ugetsu from Given, and he's in Ensemble Stars, A!3, and Tokenranbu (can you tell this dude can sing).

He has a lovely deep voice and is an absolute sweetheart, despite being able to growl like a rabid dog. It's the perfect match for the character.

The show itself looks like it will be a cute and fluffy show that is low-risk and chill. Most importantly, it's teaching us the importance of Work-Life balance!

It seems to be based on Sentei/Ranger style shows, but set as if the show is the real world, and the characters are NOT actors. Who knows WHY Mr. Villain and his fellow demons are here to destroy humans, but the Ranger's are here to protect us!

Spoilers and screenshots for episode 1!

Holy shit, Mr. Villain is /adorable/ in both work mode and relax mode.

This almost feels like it's trying to be sexy in the same way the Uramichi Oniisan was, just for the hell of it in a show with almost zero fan service apart from Soft Boys.

The show is basically three little shorts strung together, but gives us a great glimpse of the world.

We get to meet Red Ranger who.... I killed myself laughing over this, but is just as directionally challenged as my Capybara is. We go anywhere together and he starts walking in a direction, and its a 90% chance that it's the exact opposite direction he wants to go in.

Mr. Villain leads him to the train station he was ACTUALLY trying to get to, and as Red Ranger skipped happily through the ticket gate, Capybara said "See, now I'd just get lost and not know what platform to go to."

....only for Red Ranger to have this immediate problem, lmfao. I'm so excidted for more non-existant-sense-of-direction shinanigens, if only to tease the Capybara.

So, Quick Japanese Cultural Lesson -> This is called a Showa Yankee lmao. It's a street gangster / troublemaker with a soft spot for animals. This comes from a brand with cute dogs on it that was popular among the rough and tumble street gangs oh the 1980s and earlier. But you will see this trope across various anime and manga, and I LOVE IT. Gap-Moe at it's finest.

Along with the animal loving, Mr. Villain can't eat spicy curry (Is he British? lololol) and despite getting ready to murder any human at hand because they're sold out of Mild Curry Roux, the panda special immediately calms him down and settles in to watch.

MR. VILLAIN HAS A SPECIAL INTEREST AND I VIBE.

I may not care that much for pandas (Would saying that get my killed by Mr. Villain? Probably, but I'm one of the few people who don't go "awww" when they see a panda, and instead can only remember the baby panda sneeze video lmao) but I hope to keep enjoying all this fluff, especially as I try to push through the last few episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen from last season.

Mr. Villain has his priorities straight, and I'd be happy to hand over the world to his control as long as I don't die :D

Let's hope his faith in humanity continues to grow even as he uncovers more atrocities like the incarceration of predatory beasts for human viewing pleasure.

ep2 ep3 ep4 ep5 ep6 <- these will eventually become links, I hope.

#mr. villain's day off #kyuujitsu no warumono san #休日のわるものさん #anime winter 2024 #asanuma shintaro #uramichi oniisan #pandas #demon lord

[symphonic-scream]

Okay. Formal post for

Persona 5 D&D au

So this post has three parts, and the part headers are gonna be colour coded so if you wanna skip to a certain part, it's easier!

Overall Plot is Blue, Campaign Plot is Red, and everyone's Characters are Orange

Let's get litty in this bitch

Overall Plot

So, this au has a plot. Surprise!

Everyone but Morgana is university age, and they don't all know each other before the game. The idea to start the game comes from Morgana, 16, bonding over a mutual love of D&D podcasts with his tutor, Haru, 24

So the plan is to get a bunch of people together to play! Morgana asks his older brother Akira, 22, to invite some of his friends. Their two roommates, Ann, 22, and Ryuji, 22, agree to play too. Akira brings everyone else

Yusuke, 23, he met by simply noticing him sketching strangers in the university quad every day. Makoto, 24, is his own tutor and a PhD student. Sumire, 20, and Akira are in the same social work class. And Futaba, 19, is the legendary Library Hobbit. Akira once gave her an energy drink and they became besties

So the "plot" is the gang all coming together as they play, and slowly becoming friends outside the campaign. And because I'm me, it includes a Haru and Makoto romance plot.

Which, is Haru flirting and failing, so she tries to get Makoto to notice by romancing her character in game. There's more details but. Y'all can ask about that

Anyways the important part is, Morgana is the DM, and only he and Haru are really familiar with D&D.

Campaign Plot

Their game starts with the end of the world. The cataclysm, a dark figure laughing over them as the world burns around them. Each of them has a "sign", like Makoto's character is missing an arm, Sumire's character is marred with burn scars, etc

They get sent back in time by a few months. Their goal is to change the future, with their starting guiding ideas are to keep those "signs" from happening to their characters

Originally, Goro isn't in the campaign. His character is the big bad, but the gang somehow ruin that. Morgana comes up with another big bad and panic asks a different tutor to play that character and. That's Goro

Anyways. Here's the big part

Everyone's Characters

Not too much detail for everyone, just names races and classes, y'all can ask me for more details or can suggest some

Anyways.

Akira - Eladrin Rogue named Joker (he/they)

Ryuji - Half-Orc Barbarian named Nux (he/him/

Ann - Human Sorcerer named Constance LeBeau (she/her)

Yusuke - Drow Warlock named Faeryl (she/her)

Makoto - Tiefling Monk named Just (he/they/she)

Futaba - Tabaxi Artificer named Ford F-150 (he/him)

Haru - Half-Elf Paladin named Ulyssa Noir (she/her)

Sumire - Halfling Ranger named Cinder Earthdancer (she/her)

Goro - Aasimar Blood Hunter named Judas (he/him)

-

The pronouns listed are for the characters, at the moment the Thieves all use, the ones in the game. That's the best way to put it

Anyways. I have so many thoughts about this au ASK ME ABOUT IT SUGGEST THUNFS TALK TO ME ABOUT IT

#persona 5 d&d au #makoto niijima #haru okumura #persona 5 #okujima #yusuke kitagawa #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #goro akechi #futaba sakura #morgana p5 #joker p5 #akira kurusu #sumire yoshizawa

[best-tv-theme-song]

Round 1 is over, full results below!

Round 2 will start on Monday.

What are your most devastating losses this round?? Mine are Milo Murphy's Law, Gilmore Girls, That 70s Show, and Reba. (No respect around here for a single mom who works too hard who loves her kids and never stops)

Group A

The Addams Family vs. Fairy Tail

Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat vs. Goosebumps

Wizards of Waverly Place (S1-3) vs. Ed, Edd n Eddy

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood vs. Only Murders in the Building

The Backyardigans vs. Downton Abbey

Naruto vs. The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

Dexter's Laboratory vs. Kenan & Kel

Parks and Recreation vs. Jujutsu Kaisen

Danny Phantom vs. Pippi Longstocking/Pippi Långstrump

My Life as a Teenage Robot vs. My Hero Academia

Sabrina the Teenage Witch vs. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (S4-7)

Little Einsteins vs. The Benny Hill Show

Teletubbies vs. Ted Lasso

VeggieTales vs. Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Lizzie McGuire vs. The Proud Family

Steven Universe (Original Theme) vs. The A-Team

Group B

Doctor Who (New S1-2) vs. Charlie's Angels

Thomas & Friends vs. Bob's Burgers

Community vs. The Brady Bunch

Adventure Time vs. Ever After High

Seinfeld vs. Ranma ½

Batman vs. Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Monty Python's Flying Circus vs. One Piece (2023)

Friends vs. Rocko's Modern Life

Sesame Street (S1-23) vs. Saved by the Bell

Total Drama vs. Monk

Full House vs. Winx Club (We Are the Winx)

Looney Tunes vs. Murder, She Wrote

M*A*S*H vs. South Park

Pinky and the Brain vs. Happy Days

One Day at a Time (2017) vs. The Suite Life on Deck

Pokémon (Pokémon Theme) vs. The Andy Griffith Show

Group C

Gravity Falls vs. Milo Murphy's Law

Horrible Histories vs. Leverage

Neon Genesis Evangelion vs. Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers

The Simpsons vs. Samurai Jack

The Golden Girls vs. Wonder Pets!

Merlin vs. El Chavo del Ocho

Victorious vs. CSI: Miami

My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic vs. Smallville

Good Omens vs. Good Luck Charlie

House, M.D. vs. Pride and Prejudice

LazyTown vs. The Big Bang Theory

Bob the Builder vs. Wild Kratts

New Girl vs. Infinity Train

Arthur vs. I Love Lucy

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vs. The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

The X-Files vs. Pucca

Group D

The Fairly OddParents vs. X-Men: The Animated Series

Sherlock vs. Monster High

Spider-Man vs. Revolutionary Girl Utena

Orange Is the New Black vs. Hunter × Hunter

The Office vs. Angel: The Series

Law & Order (SVU) vs. Arcane: League of Legends

BoJack Horseman vs. Wonder Woman

Jeopardy! vs. Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?

The Suite Life of Zack and Cody vs. Taskmaster

Totally Spies! vs. Yellowjackets

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia vs. Ouran High School Host Club (Japanese)

Yuri on Ice vs. Samurai Champloo

Ducktales (1987) vs. Charmed

Mister Rogers' Neighborhood vs. Shaun the Sheep

How It's Made vs. Tokyo Ghoul

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! vs. The Emperor's New School

Group E

Kim Possible vs. Once Upon a Time

The Great British Bake Off vs. The Legend of Vox Machina

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power vs. Gilmore Girls

Animaniacs vs. Pretty Little Liars

Zoboomafoo vs. Who Wants to Be a Millionaire

The Umbrella Academy vs. The Muppet Show

WandaVision (A Newlywed Couple/Ep 1) vs. NCIS

Reading Rainbow (1983-1999) vs. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Hannah Montana (S1-2) vs. Gilligan's Island

The Mandalorian vs. Dragon Ball Z (Cha-La Head-Cha-La)

What We Do in the Shadows vs. Inspector Gadget

Big Time Rush vs. Barney & Friends

Power Rangers (Mighty Morphin) vs. Young Justice

Futurama vs. Spy × Family

Succession vs. Bluey

iCarly vs. Code Lyoko

Group F

The Magic School Bus vs. Jackie Chan Adventures

Digimon Adventure (Butter-Fly) vs. The Last of Us

Star Trek: The Next Generation (S3-7) vs. Soul Eater

Zoey 101 vs. Xena: Warrior Princess

Dora the Explorer vs. We Bare Bears

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend vs. Carmen Sandiego (2019)

Star Trek: Enterprise (S1-2) vs. Mr. Bean

Sailor Moon (Japanese) vs. Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S1-2) vs. Red Dwarf

Death Note vs. Phil of the Future

Yu-Gi-Oh! vs. El Chapulín Colorado

The Flintstones vs. His Dark Materials

Game of Thrones vs. Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure

The Nanny vs. Haikyu!!

Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends vs. Frasier

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air vs. Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

Group G

Bill Nye the Science Guy vs. The Facts of Life

George of the Jungle (1967) vs. Veronica Mars

H2O: Just Add Water (S1) vs. Star Trek: Voyager

Star Trek: The Original Series (With Vocal) vs. Hawaii Five-O

Drake & Josh vs. Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman

Puella Magi Madoka Magica vs. Cowboy Bebop (1998)

Lilo & Stitch: The Series vs. Torchwood

The Twilight Zone vs. Wander Over Yonder

Rugrats vs. Columbo

The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius vs. The Walking Dead

Hey Arnold! vs. Psych

Twin Peaks vs. Voltron: Legendary Defender

Dragon Tales vs. How I Met Your Mother

Stranger Things vs. Mission: Impossible (1966)

W.I.T.C.H. vs. Daredevil

What's New, Scooby-Doo? vs. Tiny Toon Adventures

Group H

SpongeBob SquarePants vs. X-Men: Evolution

Fraggle Rock vs. Stargate SG-1

Firefly vs. Scrubs

Codename: Kids Next Door vs. Inuyasha (Change the World)

That '70s Show vs. Bear in the Big Blue House

Cheers vs. American Dragon: Jake Long

A Series of Unfortunate Events vs. Black Sails

The Powerpuff Girls vs. Darkwing Duck

That's So Raven vs. Grey's Anatomy

Ben 10 vs. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Cyberchase vs. Reba

Malcolm in the Middle vs. Shake It Up

Teen Titans (2003) vs. Mob Psycho 100

The Owl House vs. I Dream of Jeannie

Assassination Classroom (Question) vs. Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake

Phineas and Ferb vs. Batman Beyond/Batman of the Future

#mod post

[flameohotpotatooo]

For those who play DnD and Baldur's Gate 3

If you could give companions (and npcs) different classes/subclasses from other sources, what would you give them?

Read bellow

Lae'zel: Battle Master fighter fits her fine but I'd multiclass her with Drakewarden Ranger. Favored enemy? Also a magical dragon pet?

Karlach: Barbarian also fits her, but Juggernaut? Hello? Best for a Barbarian on front lines of a war on higher levels

Shadowheart: First of all, I wouldn't keep her as a cleric, but a paladin. She doesn't have the wise energy that comes with cleric. She's a devotion paladin. BUT if I want to pick a cleric subclass for her, twilight is a cool thing. Not dark as Shar and not light as Selune. She's the middle line. The only trickery cleric I can get behind to work is Jester by Laura Bailey.

Jaheira: Druid is cool, ranger is better (for her) I see her as a resourceful and more dynamic flexible like a ranger is both in utility of a fight and nature. Either Beast master or Primeval Guardian.

Halsin: He's fine where he is. Moon druid is good for him. I thought of giving him Blood hunter order of lycan and have him turn into a were-bear but I think blood hunters are a bit too harsh and aggressive for him.

Gale: Evocation wizard is cool, but for Gale I go for Chronurgy (thanks critical role) Gale wants to fight his goddess one way or another, give him the power to manipulate time. It's something that out of books and he'll fullfil the prodigy type.

Astarion: I thought Blood hunter? But he's not a fit for subclasses. Have a vampire dealing radiant damage is a funny image tho, ngl. But keeping him a rogue, and make him swashbuckler. They're charisma build rogues and he's a charismatic asshole.

Wyll: he's a warlock, his story is a warlock, so fiend pact of blade he stays for me... But! Hear me out. Palock. Paladin warlock. Paladin of redemption. Unless you have him kill karlach then he's Paladin of conquest.

Minsc: ... Gee fuck! He's a challenge for me bc I love rangers and he has the sweet baby barbarian vibe for some reason but he's not a barbarian either. I keep him as he is bc he confuses me.

Dame Aylin: mommy is paladin coded, she's best for Paladin of glory. Or ancient. Have it your way.

Isobel: Cleric of light, sure... Multiclass her with druid of stars

Ketheric Thorm: Paladin of either devotion (bc obv devoted to Myrkul for his debt) or conquest bc of the fear and intimidation he rules with.

Enver Gortash: Yes yes I'm gonna say it... Artificer. Either Mechanism or armorer, but I go far to say he can be a bard too. Bards harness the power of their words, they are jack of all traits, and can have expertise in many tools. It's not a written rule to have all bards as musicians. Lawyers can be bards, artists can be bards.

Orin the red: She's tough for me tbh. To pull tricking and passing as someone else you need high charisma. She doesn't have sorcerer or bard vibe, not rogue or warlock either. Blood hunter (heh) profane soul needs pact with higher entity (Bhaal) and I think this class can suit her. I'm open to criticism on this take.

Durge: I won't choose sorcerer for them. I find gloom stalker Ranger better fit for a serial killer. But sorcery, sure... Evil devine soul and when redeemed durge (spoilers) dies and Withers brings them back, it's up for debate to loose the sorcery or be other subtypes.

Share your takes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #laezel #shadowheart #karlach #astarion #halsin #wyll bg3 #durge #jaheira #gale bg3 #ketheric thorm #isobel thorm #dame aylin #orin the red #minsc

[beatupoldpickuptruck]

Just in case you were wondering

Big city area where I live;

(All Numbers pulled off indeed)

Waitress @ Red Robin : $73k/yr + benefits and tips

Front Desk Secretary @ Bank : $54k/yr + benefits

Warehouse: $34k/yr - no benefits

And I know you're like what the fuck already but get this one;

Police officer; $28k/yr + benefits + douchebags

But get this, this is the real kicker;

Frontend (make buttons, sliders, menus) Programmer / Developer : $112k/yr + benefits

Ok the button guy makes as much as 4 cops - cool. So what, you all ask me, a beatupoldpickuptruck.

Here's some more jokes;

Director @ Trust Fund $85k/yr + benefits

Chief of Police @ (Precinct) $65k/yr + benefits

National Parks Service Ranger: $32k/yr no benefits

Backend (math, computation, everything not user facing in software) programmer / dev;

*drumroll*

$184,650/year + benefits + STOCK.

SO 👉👉 if you wanna *fight the bourgeois* or *overthrow the patriarchy* or get rich so you can buy your dream cottagecore tiny home, or buy a private island to build an entirely Wicca society, whatever you want

you should probably learn to code.

Specially since them daggum learning machines are getting so good at art and writing that sometimes you can't even tell the difference?

Only way to sieze control of the levers of power are to become the controllers of the sources of that power.

Wrench away the machines from the evil doers and capitalists

Let free your creativity on the canvas of virtual machines

Set yourself free, wielding knowledge as your sword.

Then no one can disarm you.

But that's just what this beatupoldpickuptruck thinks of things, don't pay me no mind, children.

#wisdom #programming #jobs #salary #money #broke #capitalism #woke #poverty