#this is my largest scale single drawing ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Note

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

#harry potter #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #L writes #by request

215 notes · View notes

sanstropfremir · 3 years

Note

I’d love your thoughts on BTS and their current image and music if you have them and aren’t afraid of the mindless internet hoards.

Personally, I liked a lot of their older stuff, but haven’t liked anything since I think the Fake Love promotions 3+ years ago. They’d started losing their personality and soul before that album cycle, but it feels like the sanitization of their image and artistry really kicked into hyperdrive after that. Now most of what they do seems like a sterile money grab driven by the Hybe hive mind which is a shame.

ok alrighty (cracks knuckles) let's get into it.

now that i've fully given myself a headache watching the majority of the bts videography, here are three points i'm going to cover:

performative character and the lack thereof

interesting aesthetics and the lack thereof, and

the inevitable cracking of perfection

ready, set, let's begin.

idol music is very clearly definited by spectacle based aesthetics. and it's had that structure for its entire existence. so i gotta hand it to hybe for this one, because they managed to revolutionize being utterly fucking average. the triumph of bts is that they're just some guys and they look like just some guys. hybe found a niche in the system and then gamed that system to the tune of one of the largest musical acts in the world. they're not marketing bts as a romantic parasocial relationship, they're marketing them as your friends. and that is just as insidious to lonely kids as a run of the mill romantic fantasy. but that's not what i'm here to talk about today.

there's a pattern i find very interesting with bts mvs and that is that i don't remember anything about them. specifically, i don't remember the stuff that's happening IN the video; not the styling, not the setpieces, if i didn't know the members i doubt i would remember them either. what i DO remember, is how expensive the production is, and specific shots. i couldn't tell you what a single member was wearing, but i sure as hell remember that first upward angle shot of jungkook and the rusted park ride in spring day. or every single time they do that birdseye shot of jin in like every video. honestly as far as i'm aware jin has only ever worn a loose fitting beige longsleeve shirt.

it took bts a long time to establish any kind of consistent visual character. and the character they did establish.... i don't know if you can call a family-friendly-style clean aesthetic 'character'. they debuted as a hip hop group to little (comparative) success, and then made a switch to doing an early version of where they're currently at right now. if you've seen any of the mvs, you know that this is a pretty significant visual change. i don't think it is inherently a bad change, since the visual branding for hiphop based groups always tips over into iffy terrritory, but it is dramatic enough and early enough that it doesn't strike me as a natural evolution. concept switch ups are common, but they usually work because the members have established a bit of character for themselves, used their performance abilities and presence to fit into a niche in the group. the idol mould is perfect for showcasing the performers; that's its function. the groups that are the most fun to watch are the ones with stage presence, the ones who know how to perform, who can act all the parts they need to play. and bts? 4/7 actual performers on a good day. in my personal opinion it's 2/7.

i'm gonna expand on what i said about jimin here (this is technically the first part of this series), because it does apply to the rest of the group on the whole:

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is.

bts has been very insistent on the image of the group as a single unit. despite having the size of fanbase and the revenue that would make any official solo debut a massive success, none of them have done any substantial solo work. this isn't artistically a problem, and i think it's very admirable of them to be so dedicated to the image and the legacy of the group, when that can be an uncommon trait in the industry. i do however, think it starts to become an issue when we want to discuss what the artistic visions and images of groups are. shinee taemin and solo taemin have two distinct artistic representations, and taemin himself will attest to that. it's the same with all the shinee members that have solo careers, and the same with other groups. jackson, bambam, yugyeom, and jaebeom's solo work is all very different from got7. yixing's solo work is very different from exo's. even the subunits within exo all have their own character (cbx and sc). kpop groups all ostensibly are trained under the same system, so why the disparity with bts? mostly, it's their brand of "authenticity." it's impossible to perform authentically, by the nature of performance as a medium it is unnatural, and tragically, not everyone is naturally interesting, or suited to performing: that's why the performing arts even exist in the first place. it required painstaking training to be good at performing; it is a complex set of skills and those skills are not learnt by "being authentic." being an idol is not just the singing, dancing, rapping; that's only half the work. you need to be able to act to be a compelling performer. pulling your true self and emotions out on stage every night is a fast track to burnout and psychological issues, there's plenty of evidence. the only member of bts of whom i can say for some certainty has a persona and a stage presence is jhope/hoseok, a) because he's kept up a very specific brand in the solo work that he has done, and b) he has actual dance training, not just kpop dance training. the rest of them may have the kpop dance and the kpop vocal training, but what they do not have is the ability to market themselves as compelling performers on stage. taehyung is the only other member i would hesitantly give a semblance of persona and ability to, but i think he stumbled onto that mostly by accident. and if all the pieces don't each have a distinctive colour, how can the whole machine be visually interesting?

bts may never have been able to establish an aesthetic brand, but what they did establish is an intellectual one. if you talk to a fan, the schtick they give is that "it's about the lyrics." as noble as having an intellectual or cerebral message is, what does that look like? how do you portray intellectual on stage, on film? what about intellectual is interesting to watch? cerebral, by it's literal nature as a descriptor, is very difficult to communicate in visual language because it is internal. to successfully communicate cerebrality and intellect in a short form medium like music videos requires a deft hand with metaphor that can elude even an experienced designer. and honestly? i don't know whether to applaud hybe's visual team for being the most successful subtle contemporary designers i've every seen, or to decry them as worst kpop designers i've ever seen. maybe both. regardless, i don't think they're able to cross the gap.

there are exactly four mvs where i actually remember the content of the mv and not the frame it sits in, and those are dna, idol, the singularity comeback trailer with taehyung, and war of hormone. and of an eight year career......that's not very many. these four mvs have at least an inkling of interesting spectacle and character, but even then, it's still a stretch. there is absolutely nothing to write home about in the styling for dna, other than it's well colour matched. I don't even know if I should include singularity because it involves none of the other members. idol is probably their most interesting mv because it actually has alternative styling and varies (at least a little bit) from the standard hybe boom crane shot-that-shows-off-how-we-can-afford-big-studio-spaces-and-locations. the company and the group would be loathe to admit it, but war of hormone is a well designed and interesting mv for the time it was made, with a well crafted gimmick and some actual showing of character from the members. it was the start of a potential that they squashed quite quickly because it wasn't picking up in the hiphop-group-saturated market of 2014. but the rest of their mvs? remarkably uninspired styling. like it's truly impressive how boring the styling is. and like i've said, that is the triumph in their aesthetics: they all look like normal dudes (if you had professional skin + makeup techs looking after them for the last 8 years).

all of this is a carefully crafted image that's tailored to hooking an audience, especially an international one. the mvs are boring in the relative scale of kpop, but they're just different enough from a western pop mv to catch attention. and once you do sink a hook, there's a direct clickfunnel of content that bills itself on these men being "authentic" and "self-producing," which is a huge draw to international fans, because people are racist and believe that the kpop industry is a factory that produces idols like clones, where none of them know how to do anything other than sing and dance and all the music is just handed to them by companies. and they have SO much content that there's no way a new fan can get to it all in a timely manner, so they'll never have to engage with any other kpop artists' work if they don't actively seek it out. but that's another essay for another time.

that brings us to current day, in which at least the last five bts releases have been in the same aesthetic vein of positive, sanitized, and pristine. i said it in one of my txt responses and i will say it again here: money scrubs the humanity from the aesthetic of living. minimalism is for rich white people. hybe and bts may have pivoted their style and brand directly into the lane of mass appeal, but when you pair that with the amount of money funding them, there's a cognitive dissonance between the message and the aesthetics in which it's portrayed. some people do like the clean cut looks, and i won't say that they don't work, but as you've likely gleaned from this response, it isn't my style and if you've been around and reading my writing for longer you'll know that my tastes runs much closer to the messy and the weird, so very little about any of bts' visuals have appeal to me. i do find the contradiction of applying the appeal of radical relatability with the aesthetics of expansive (and expensive) minimalism interesting; it's an extremely fine line that hybe is walking and eventually they are going to tip over, the porcelain mask will not hold forever. maintaining the all ages aesthetic is going to be difficult now that all of them are grown ass men. with other groups of this member age and generation there's very obviously been a shift to a more adult tone, and not necessarily explicitly. got7, mx, nu'est, btob, shinee, 2pm, and groups that have older members like a.c.e and sf9 have all made slow shifts in tone that are undeniably aimed at a maturing audience: they know their core fanbases are aging with them and they (the fans) are not as interested in the 'boy' in boy group. and most of them have telltale visual styles, enough so that i can distinguish a specific group's mv. the last year and change of mx mvs have a very distinctive character; got7 too, since easily as far back as if you do. i can always tell an a.c.e mv by its impeccable fashion and formic styling, and although shinee has always had a more experimental aesthetic edge, their sound and voices are unmistakable.

honestly, i can't predict what bts is going to do in the future, but i personally don't believe they can keep up their clean aesthetic indefinitely without some fallout. part of the fun of following bands is watching them grow musically, and the last couple of years of bts haven't felt like growth. there are fans that have already started realizing it, and there's likely to be more soon.

---

the third part is here, which is a short followup about some of bts' industry influence.

#this is long one dear readers #a very long one #strap in #i've sat on this for probably a week now in the hopes my brain can make some interesting connections but honestly?#not a lot about bts is interesting in comparision to the rest of the kpop industry #personally i am of the opinion that lyrics do not matter in idol music and i am not interested in them in the slightest #and bts videos ARE extremely bland visually #unless you like looking at expensive production. whatever floats your boat i guess #they make a lot of sense as an entry kpop group but once you get actually into the industry there is SO much happening #which i talk about in the third part a little bit #this is way too long i am so sorry anon and everyone else who has been asking about this topic #im not entirely sure it's coherent at this point but whatever. its out there now #i wanted this to be under 1k and that emphatically did not happen #it is double that. why am i like this #875 #kpop questions #kpop analysis #group analysis #text #answers

41 notes · View notes

thedivinedemom · 3 years

Text

An AU of DC with a mass crossover of PS4 properties.

Provisional name: Players Searching for Detectable Changes (Get the pun?)

The setup:

This is the future of DC, a world where the old guard has slowly withdrawn and the newer generations have risen to the occasion. The original Titans in particular, most of which have formed the new Justice League while many other, very similar teams had started to form across the world. One of which was a resurgence of the Teen Titans, led by an older and purified Raven. She wanted to make the Teen Titans something akin as it was for her, a place to belong and learn to use one's powers.

The first 'class' of such individuals include:

Stargirl (of the now-disbanded JSA and still getting used to the Starrod)

Blue Beetle III (Freshly attached to his alien symbiote and freaking out a bit)

Robin V (to work on his anger issues, mostly at the new Batman's request)

Kaldur (a half Atlantean half metahuman who is struggling with his identity and the surface world, Aquaman feels a kinship for the boy seeing their similarities)

Static Shock (a promising new hero but little experience working outside his city or in groups)

Mary Marvel (she's... she's going through alot. Fresh from a coma, her brother is distant as he acts as the new Wizard, and she may be, sorta kinda, being corrupted by Black Adam's gifted power)

The team was rough and there was plenty of head butting (Mostly between Stargirl and Robin/Damian as one is almost the unanimous leader while the other thinks he should be) but they were getting there. They were more of a clean up crew for the Justice League, they did more than the "kiddie missions" that the Outsiders didn't do, and they meant more than the PR grab that was the International team. Though they didn't seem to amount to more than that. They still did their best, pushing past the silent ridicule, as they went about their missions.

This may be why tempers were so high that day.

One day, outside a little city by the name of Weller's Point, the prisoner transport for the villain Plasmus had an "accident". Released and awakened the creature went on a rampage, heading ever closer to the populated area. Luckily, the mentor of the New Teen Titans could teleport. The new team did fairly well in the fight, though they did struggle a bit as Plasmus was not a being where simple brute force would work. It made the fight tricky and more than a bit... messy.

Messy enough that juvenile and emotionally compromised Mary Marvel lashed out against the downed villain but was stopped by her teammates... things escalated from there. Restraint turned blows and the whole team struggled to stop their powerhouse without hurting her. The ones who do the best are Raven, Stargirl, Blue Beetle, and oddly Static.

While both of the former could use their abilities to restrain her to a very effective degree Static was actively draining her of strength, or at least of the electic aura she was radiating and blasting with. Frustrated, done with the situation, and a bit petty Mary launched her largest attack yet by saying her magical word.

SHAZAM.

Virgil did what he did best, he handled that lightning as it came crashing down towards Mary and the Titans restraining her. Well, he tried. The bolt was just too powerful, too unlike anything he had ever encountered. He could not handle it and it was dissipating, if anything it clung to him or tried to jump towards the girl. He had to get rid of it and he had to get rid of it quickly, safely too if he could help it.

He shoved it into the ground, into the power lines. He did it as carefully as he could, trying to prevent overload or flashover as guided the charge into the power grid.

What happened next was a combination of a few things. 1. The Mystic and transformative properties of the Lightning, 2. It is effectively being filtered through a bang baby, 3. The kryptonite power plant owned by, provided by, and operated by Lexcorp.

This interaction, this new charge, cycling through the power grid interacted strangely with a number of devices but none more so than PlayStation 4s and the devices connected to them. This new electricity changed things, literally. It brought fantasy into reality.

Whatever game was loaded into became a part of our reality in a small way. Sometimes TVs, Controllers, and even the system changed to reflect items from the game but the bigger change came with the Players. If a person was playing their console during the surge then they would become a metahuman with abilities based on the playable character they were playing.

The city, the county even, was now flooded by an abundance of metahumans and items of varying power of devastation. Static felt horrible.

He couldn't help but compare what has happened here to what happened in Dakota City but on a wider scale. And this time it was his fault. His sense of responsibility wouldn't, couldn't, let that stand. He had to fix his mistake and his team was dragged along for the ride.

The story to follow is a mix of Final Crisis and Kingdom Come with a bit of the Young Justice cartoon in events and themes, a few twists and likely a bit lighter in tone but to the DC geeks this should give a rough idea… Maybe a bit of Marvel's Civil War but hopefully not the rushed knee-jerk mess that that ended up being.

But it's here that I start having issues with my planning. One part in worry as outside the set up we start to follow the perspective of OCs (something rarely smiled upon) and another part in wondering which OC to focus on.

Now, one thing I love in fiction is progressive powers and the conflict escalating from the different paths people take in said progression. In that vein, I have a pair of protags in mind as well.

The main two/co-protagonists:

The Lawkeeper- a cop before the change and now a member of a task force made up largely of those affected by the surge. A gamer, a man of color, and a believer of the spirit of the law. He doesn't always get along with his fellow officers but he believes in what the blue does. He believes that an organized response is what is best.

His abilities are based on those of Jesse Fades of Control. Meaning he has tremendous psychic potential but he needs 3 things to reach his full potential.

1.Items to bond to so he can generate these psychic abilities. Jesse's used altered items of her universe to get thematic abilities from them (ex: a safe to generate a shield, a carousel horse for a dash ability, ect). Here he can use items generated by the surge.

2. A patron/partner entity to help guide, give insights, and empower. It also let's the user enforce reality, basically becoming an anti reality warper.

3. A bonded morph weapon or a weapon to come to his hand when called.

The knight- a recent college graduate who instantly decided to go the route of the caped hero. She, after figuring out how to get her powers to work, instantly went the route of a caped crusader. Going out to the streets, saving lives, stopping instances of surge item abuse, and (in the humble opinion of the local Police Department) getting in the way of operations. In her opinion they were taking too long to get things done.

Her abilities are based on those of Prince Noctis of Final Fantasy XV. This means she has tremendous physical and magical potential but like the above she has a number of check marks needed to gain access to the character's full power.

1. A gem/crystal to draw power from.

2. 13 magical weapons to boost strength. The generated game weapons will do and I have most picked out in a way that likely would help the plot progress.

3. The blessing of 5-6 gods.

4. A power ring of some king to channel all this power.

I keep debating the two above as I do like the idea of both of them climbing in power and clashing over conflicting ideals of what to do with their power. At the same time, I think that just smooshing aspects of both into one (which is actually where they started, a single character) and play off the different ideologies of how best to help people from within her friend group and precinct along with internal conflict. Maybe have the one be a fellow officer they butt heads with because of the... precarious nature

Another OC I was thinking on, keeping with the theme of what to do when you have power, is a thief who played Persona 5. Like both of the above they would be crippled in their ability to use their abilities without a way to fake the connection to. In this case, without the Mementos App, they would need an item that could affect or enter the hearts of others. Luckily, more unlucky really, there are plenty of items floating around that can do just that. Namely Keyblades.

Most other Players are an odd mix but most are variations of the Shooter build. Peak physical humans who heal quickly and often have bullet time. But there are enough other variations to cause trouble. Demigods of unreal strength, men and women who can easily tap into a patron for powers from the outside, 2 variations of spider powers, cat eyed men and women who can cast magic with simple gestures, and so much more. But the real issue was the first two, the demigods without a parent to protect them and those easily connected to a divine source.

The disembodied New Gods of Apocalypse were very happy with those groups. For how bad this can be please look at what happened to Mary Marvel in canon Final Crisis.

Thoughts and opinions would be appreciated.

#dc community #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fandom #playstation #mass crossover #orginal character #dc fanfiction #dc fanfiction idea #outline

25 notes · View notes

fatehbaz · 3 years

Note

Well a lot people are sitting on vast wells of water under their property with no choice but to hoard it because water is not recognized as the commodity it is. To solve this the government should nationalize all water including rain then give licenses to the private sector to exploit the reserves for profit. It's not fair people with wells and who live in rainy regions to currently be able to hoard water. They also don't have the infrastructure to properly exploit their reserves and with such a vital commodity they shouldn't be able to extort money from corporations for rights to the water they currently hoard.

No.

Assuming this message is in response to my post describing the news (in 2021) about how Wall Street hedge fund managers have announced that privatizing water in the US and especially in the Colorado River basin is now a priority and “a trillion-dollar market opportunity” waiting to be manipulated, while a single hedge fund manager alone invests over $300 million in farmland fed by private accounts of water taken from the Colorado reservoirs, at a time when Lake Powell is less than 39-feet of rapidly-receding water depth away from reaching dead pool limits; and how despite bordering over 70 miles of the Colorado River, about 40% (by some estimates) of Navajo Nation’s homes do not have access to running water, complicating the health effects, cancers, and legacy of reservation-wide uranium poisoning from over 500 abandoned radioactive mines that remain completely uncleaned. Because (in the same nation-state where N*stle privatizes water and pays a single annual fee of 200 USD to extract over 130 million gallons from one single well in the same state where people of Flint are forced by threat of eviction and foreclosure to pay 200 USD each month in water utility bills to get poisoned) the US placed its largest dams atop the Colorado to service massive urban agglomerations in the desert like Vegas, after a government campaign to poison native chub and stock with sport-fish and irrigate settler agricultural plots, obstructing the river to such an extent that the vibrant Colorado River Delta has functionally disappeared from the face of the Earth, eliminating a de facto oasis in the Sonoran Desert and leading to extinction of vaquita and the globally-unique underwater worlds of the Gulf of California.

And given all of that ... you’re suggesting to avert the continued horror: “nationalize” the water ... by granting some licenses/rights to private business? Contradictory, isn’t it? You seem like you might be engaging in good faith, so I’ll try to engage in good faith, too. But what you’re saying (nationalize, then give away the licenses to for-profit entities) is not too different from what the US already did to water in the western part of the continent. Kill and segregate Indigenous peoples, claim the rivers as property of the nation, and then give the land to private sector by granting discounted licenses, property rights, and sweetheart deals to private ranchers and corporations and industrialists to dispense and manage that water. Aside from the horror described above directly linked to private business, for over a century the US government did essentially operate as if it had sole power over the Colorado basin, and it was the nation-state that commanded the drawing of Indigenous reservation borders and the construction of Lake Foul and the H00ver/Glen Canyon dams in the first place.

(Also: Have you met me? Don’t think I’ve given anyone reason to believe that I would ever support “the private sector” or water privatization or “exploiting” stuff for “profit”?)

I understand that water access, especially in arid/dry and so-called “peripheral” places can be difficult. (Which is why channeling the Colorado’s water to sustain Vegas is absurd. In the 1920s, there were less than 5,000 people in Vegas; there was no dire reason to continue to expand the city.) And it’s worth discussing how to improve clean/fresh water access to, say, for example, people living on Polynesian islands, the Kyzylkum of Central Asia, rural arid Australia, Indigenous communities of the Chihuahuan Desert, etc. But in those cases, communities were able to secure water access, for decades or centuries or millennia, and crises developed because of the invasion of nation-states and privatized water schemes like diversion for industrial-scale irrigation and rangeland.

Water is given to everyone, to us all. Unconditionally.

And whether you meant to or not, you’re implying that ... local and marginalized communities like the Dine/Navajo ... are in a position to ... hoard water ... and extort money from corporations.

29 notes · View notes

reignbow · 3 years

Text

These are concepts for Wings Of Fire fantribes for me and my sister's role play. These are all mine. My continent is called Wokitah.

The largest picture is that of the Songfin dragons, the first dragons I made for my side of the roleplay. They are pretty large and dominate a crystal and ice region in the north part of the continent. They dwell in a tribe, and are led by a shaman council. Their names are instrument-themed do to their musical culture. Their leader is head-shaman Cord.

Below my Songfin head and to the left is my Rosefang example. These are mutated dragons from the Ring Of Roses, a jungle made of giant rose plants that form a giant enclosure. The roses are constantly shifting, as plants do, and are so tightly wound that exit is usually impossible, save for a few short days where roses shift apart. Rosefangs have a face made of overlapping 'petals' that have teeth on their undersides. (Think of the demagorgan from Stranger Things, but with a LOT more flaps on the face.) Their eyes are on their tongue, which protrudes from the mouth in this drawing. They have three thin tusks, and thick scales. Scales can be barbed with curved 'thorns,' and the number and placement varies from dragon to dragon. There barbs help with climbing. Rosefangs have yellow blood. They hunt by camoflauging amongst the giant foliage and ambushing equally dangerous prey. Despite their deadly exterior, they as a collective do not know about other dragon tribes and thus are not warriors or conquerors, and few ever escape the Ring of Roses. Due to this, their culture revolves around Romanticism, usually involving the idea of freedom and escape. This carries over into their names, such as Heavensward and Paradise. They can be lead by males or females, and due to this fact being with them throughout their entire history, they do not have separate terms for kings or queens. Instead, a ruler is called a 'Quing.' Their current ruler is Quing Heavensward.

Right below the Rosefangs are the Oculus, a strange race of dragons that are born eyeless. Instead, after hatching, they construct their own single large artificial eye. They are nectar drinkers, and possess advanced technology. Their names usually refer to mechanical parts, at the moment. They also live in a city that is like a blend of cyberpunk and steampunk. The lore for this race isn'r concrete yet, but they do have an experimental division of their kind called 'Doves.' Doves are Oculus bioengineered to be incapable of doing anything wrong. Of course, EXPERIMENTAL is a keyword here. With much of real life involving decisions that fall into the gray area, these Doves have to be heavily sheltered from such choices, or they will enter a seizure-like-state and die from the inability to do anything. The Oculus leader is Empress Camshaft.

Right of the Oculus are the Ichorbloods. A species of dragons that resemble centaurs, apart from being all dragon. They are semi-aquatic, and live in the mega-swamp region. (Like a swamp, but jungle aspects, and very big.) I don't know much about them except they have no claws, three eyes, liquid tongues, poisonous blood, and they drift through the air by inflating sacs on their 'wings,' which are more like skeletal wings missing most of the 'fingers.'

Above the Ichorbloods are nothing. Just some concept art for dragons with human-shaped faces. Although pretty soon that will get it's own redraw, so be on the lookout for that!

2 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Note

47. “Is this what being poisoned feels like?” (from Larry)

Fall Into You || Accepting

"Yeah, well...not'ing like how it gonna feel when I shove one of dese size fours right up ya okole, Lar!" When Beth snaps back for a moment, glaring at the person behind her who has only just now set her on her feet. Her tone belies the flood of relief that courses through her veins and partially mitigates the pounding remnants of her migraine. Which she imagines is the result of whatever his goon put in her water. And that had to have happened when she'd poured herself into the back of the car at the end of her night or just before. Her normal twelve hour shift had become fourteen when the other nurse coming onto the ward had been two hours late thanks to the trains struggling to keep schedule. With Andy out of town ~Tabby in tow to some secret thing~ and Jay having accompanied her mother Donna to Chicago, Beth's options had been limited. She should have gone with a cab in hindsight. However, she'd been exhausted and hungry and therefore decided to take the rare luxury of the car service. She thought nothing of it when the black SUV pulled up with windows so darkly tinted that nothing short of a trip to the heart of the sun would allow the dimmest passage of light. She'd slipped into the buttery-soft leather seat. asked for a bottle of water. Receiving it and taking a long sip, she'd given the addresses to both her apartment and the O'Tooley's a handful of blocks away from it. She had wanted one of their double Inconceivable burgers with cheese and the largest saltiest greasy side of fries she could get her hands on before going home and hibernating for a month. Beth remembers closing her eyes for just a second.... ...And when she opened them again? She found herself being bridal-carried while inside an elevator by a man the size of a small mountain range. A quick scan of his genetics through shifted perceptions told her that despite the looks and the cheap suit he wore that this man was not a HITmark. A second later she regrets all of her life choices as a shrieking stab of pain lances through her brain. She tries to ward it off with another tug of her own thread in the Tapestry only to feel more agony. This one intense enough to draw a mewl of sound from her. "I wouldn't continue to do that, Miss Riley," the Mountain Range said. "My employer is a very cautious man." Icy fear provoked her into obedience as she tried to imagine who wanted to kidnap her, who had the resources to do so with impunity, and worse, had some way to invalidate her magick. Fortunately, the answer is now staring her in the face, quite literally. He is surrounded by a designer suit, dark woods, and an incredibly sumptuous penthouse that, if not for the current circumstances, would have taken her breath away with its ambient beauty. Instead, it turns fear to outrage. Outrage that transforms into sharp, bitter concern when she gets a good look at Lawrence Lynch. The man was perhaps the single whitest haole she's ever seen in person. If not for the piercing blue eyes that she's only ever seen in Huskies, she might have wondered if he had a touch of albinism. Blond hair this side of angels' wing white, the stereotype Irish pallor. Tall, and broad through the chest ~something she's absolutely sure has more to do with his impeccable posture than sheer muscle mass, she has to admit he's typically stunning. Especially when a hint of cruelty ices his gaze or curves his lips. He doesn't look that way now. His eyes are fever-bright and there's even less colour to him. If Glaciers could sweat she's sure he'd be doing that right now. He isn't. She jerks her shoulder out of the Mountain Range's grasp and makes the small march until she's standing toe-to-leather Oxford-toe with him and she can't help but reach out and press her wrist to his brow. No heat radiates. If anything he's colder than he ought to be. For him she risks another jolt of pain, which comes on the heel of her scanning him the way she had the goon and pairing it with a wince, courting paradox by not doing anything physical to make her exam seem coincidental. For a moment though

there's a flash of colour other than green and honey taking him in. Her brows furrow and she tilts her head to the side, lips pursing in confusion. A stunted little breath that can almost be heard as she exhales. At a loss, she reverts to the Old Ways. The hand so lately inclined to grace his brow is brought around to the back of his neck, fingers cupping him with a surprising amount of strength from one so physically smaller than he is. As she rises up on tip toes like a wave, she pulls him down until she's nose to nose with him, brow to brow. Eyes closed now, Beth breathes him in. His breath. His spirit. His own sacred mana. That is when it happens. Almost before her soft, warm, cinnamon breath can waft over him her eyes shoot open, wide and fearful. Her mouth works silently, open and closing as she lets go and backs very quickly away from him. Her teeth, always a little small and too sharp and in need of a good orthodontist, grow unmistakably pointed. There's more than should comfortably fit in her mouth as she bears something that resembles a snarl. One that appears to be completely accidental as she lifts her hands to cover them. Hands that are a little greyish in hue and don't look as satiny as they often do. The appearance of tiny micro-scales fan out from her knuckles, her wrist bones. Her voice trembles with a mixture of fear and something akin to disgust. "Oh, Larry...wha....what did you do?!"

1 note · View note

death-knight7 · 3 years

Text

I got a little excited with my original post

So before i continue with the rest of the countries i’m going to do a quick lay down of the world under the cut.

Gods noted in the history section will be handled in a different post as that is a different more complicated discussion that i need to layout a bit more before giving a proper discussion about just what ‘gods’ are

The World's History

Year 0, Mark of The Era of Ascension: Dansly exists as a world under a singular empire known as the Vimanti Empire ruled by beings known as the Cathalids. Any opposition against the empire is very quickly quelled and put on display for all those to see, proclaiming that the gods demand it be done.

Year 100, The First Resistance: The first successful rebellion under the banner of an individual named Pellos assembles and fights The Empire, successfully freeing the region of Omra in the 100 years they had been fighting. The rebellion dissolved shortly after the Grand Ascension of Pellos, now known to be the first of The Emerald Pantheon.

Year 122, Rumors of a descendant: Rumored to be the descendant of Pellos, Nore is the Next to take the fight to The Empire, taking after their supposed ancestor.

Year 169, Rebellion crushed: The resistance led by Nore is crushed by the empire without mercy, and Nore is sent into hiding due to the claims of them being Pellos’ descendant.

Year 198, Rebellion renewed: A new resistance appears with the first of The Vimanti Artifacts turned against The Empire in Zais led by Nore.

Year 211, The Second Ascension: Nore Ascends and the region of Zais is Liberated from the Vimanti. The Empire Begins campaigns on the freed regions and the collars on the unliberated nations are tightened to the point of slowly killing them off.

Year 223, Zel and Seltess: Zel appears in Juris, and very quickly liberates both Juris and Remura with the help of another individual named Seltess. The Empire begins to worry that they will lose the war and begin full scale termination.

Year 253, A Disappearance: Zel Disappears, leaving Seltess in charge of the resistance movement. Nierock sends for aid from Seltess in the hopes to free the unnamed mountain range.

Year 319, A second disappearance and a Name given: Nierock frees the frozen mountains with the help of Seltess. Nierock ascends and as such the mountains are named after their savior. Seltess disappears under the same circumstances as Zel.

Year 403, A Bound Together Movement: Zera and Jeza appear in Newan and Pura. Zera quickly gains support for their resistance against The Empire with the help of Jeza, Successfully freeing both Newan and Pura.

Year 415, Unbound: Zera ascends, Jeza moves east with what little of the resistance that will follow them with the resistance's true leader gone.

Year 447, Unification: Jeza arrives in Walra and meets with the leader of a new resistance named Vela. With the two movements combined, the two liberate Walra.

Year 536, Discovery: Jeza and Vela both ascend. Several creations known to have been made by Nore are found in Pase despite him never once visiting the region.

Year 606, Suman, Losnia and independent ascension: Suman gathers Vimanti Artifacts and splits them with Losnia. Both Cleza and Pase are liberated independently with no outside assistance.

Year 613, The end of the Vimanti Empire: Losnia and Suman spend the rest of their time hunting the remains of the Vimanti empire.

Year 689, The Final Ascensions and mark of The Jade Era: Both Losnia and Suman ascend and The Jade Pantheon is established for the newly liberated world of Dansly.

Year 763, The Prison Colony: Walra and Pura establish the prison colony known as Saturday, located on a freely floating island located between the two countries.

Year 813, Omra’s Split: Internalized fighting causes Omra to split into three different countries.

Year 842, Invasion: Omra Invades Newa, taking the upper peninsula of the country for itself and inciting war between the two countries.

Year 894, Independance: The northern peninsula is liberated but establishes itself as an independent country from Newan, naming itself Newa in respect to it’s former host country.

Year 1010, Conflict of Interests: A magical hidden well by the former Empire is discovered on Saturday and sparks a conflict between Walra and Pase. The mining colony of Knives Edge is made, Walra and Pura corner the market on the newly discovered resource.

Year 1140, Zais’ Split: Internalized conflict within Zais causes Civil War., Zais is split between north and south.

Year 1321, Isolation: Nierock isolates itself from the rest of the world, barring all trade outside of it’s neighboring country of Juris. Very few emigrants and tourists are allowed within the country.

Year 1372, New potential: A new potential is found within Lamina and increases the advancement of technology incredibly quickly. Threats of Saturday revolting start to bubble to the surface.

Year 1410, Saturday and Knives Edge: Both Saturday and Knives Edge liberate themselves from Walra and Pura and unite as a single independent nation.

Year 1432, Powerful States: Saturday and Knives Edge become recognized as one of Dansly’s most powerful nations due to the production of Lamina being under them almost entirely, and is the world's single most efficient producer of Lamina in Dansly.

Year 1446, Commercial Interest: Saturday becomes a commercial powerhouse on par with Pura, drawing in both large and small companies as well as mercenaries and other ne'er do wells and misfits to the new and budding country.

Year 1515, Neutrality and Technology: Saturday becomes one of the quickest technologically advancing countries in the world and officially announces itself as Neutral in all matters of world conflicts.

Year 1583, Conflict in the north: Nierock and Remura declare war on another due to blurred borders and incessant intruding into Nierock by Remura. Juris and Nierock are allies in the war and combined both are able to keep Remuras' military might behind their own borders.

Year 1606, New Order of Omra: The New Order of Omra declares war on it’s separatists, fighting with the Aid of Pura. Remura and North Newan aid the Separatists in the conflict.

Year 1626, Ancient knowledge: a long forgotten Vimanti Library is discovered in the mountains near Zel in Newan. Scholars from all over the world flock to the discovery and learn of the Cataclysmic Magics.

Year 1659, Clezan Relations: Saturday and Cleza open trade routes. Saturday Mercenaries flock to Clezan Swamps in order to benefit from the small towns and cities under constant attack from the hostile surroundings.

Year 1701, The Council of Three: After nearly 200 years of a trade based government, Saturday founded The Council of Three. Headed by the three heads of the Courier Companies, Saturday now holds a strong militaristic presence within it’s own borders and offers trade to all and is embargoed by none.

Year 1736, Secrets Unveiling: Studies into the Cataclysmic magics have unveiled and released new magics into the known world. No one knows what these magics may do, or may never do. Organizations form to learn how to identify and control these magics.

1811, Present day: War across the multiple countries, trade between a powerful city state and it’s sister state, and a new and unknown magic once hidden away by the very same people who had once enslaved all of Dansly, and a Pantheon of mysterious heros who rarely show their presence when it is truly unknown whether or not they are truly gods to begin with, even after all this time. The tension within the world can be felt in waves, and is thick enough to cut with a knife.

The Way Magic Works

Magic in this world is entirely biological, not like people are used to in most other fantasy settings. If you’ve played D&D, think of it like everyone with magic is a sorcerer, and those sorcerers have 3 different types; Mind, Body, and Spirit. Along with those 3, there is a 4th and far more...unpredictable type called Cataclysm.

Each of these types of magic are all located within different parts of the body in vein like structures called Circuits, and each type of circuit does different things.

Mind

Oxymancy, Fabrication, Alteration, Enchantment, Mending, Illusion, Invisibility, Clairvoyance

Body

Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis, Aquakinesis, Terrakinesis, Zephrakinesis, Electrokinesis, Skin Hardening, Flight

Spirit

Healing, Necromancy, Commune, Polymorph

Cataclysm

Summoning, Charm, Immortality, Plane Shifting, Chronomancy, Teleportation, Resurrection

The Planes

The Above The home of Light Beings that are considered to be dangerous, vague and enigmatic. And despite them being from The Above, they are not to be considered good. The Above is filled with Dictators and beings that exert their wills on others native to the plane, exacting the Order they perceive as the best. Not every Light Being is this way, but the oldest and most prominent find themselves in the positions of power in The Above.

The In-Between The Realm of Dansly, the meeting point of the other planes and the exit point for anything leaving them. The In-Between is the combination of the three other planes, and exists as the largest focal point in-between the other planes at any given point in time.

The Below The realm of Chaos and home of the Dark Beings that are widely known to be unpredictable and just as if not more dangerous than the Light Beings of Order. The Below is a never ending maze of tunnels and wide open caves of cities, Dark Beings constantly scrambling for some semblance of power and clans and societies forming and dissolving constantly with no sense of ever stopping. Just as their cousins in The Above, not all Dark Beings exist this way besides the Oldest and most Prominent find themselves attributing to and raising more chaos.

The Cataclysm No one knows what resides within the Cataclysm, only that it’s possible the former Vimanti Empire used it at one time to rule over the In-Between and potentially even resided within it. The Cataclysm holds strange and untold magics, as well as creatures that go beyond the realm of comprehension. Those that manage to find a way into the Cataclysm very rarely ever return with their mind intact, if at all.

The Creation of Couriers

The first Couriers, at least the couriers that are most widely known as the highly skilled mercenaries of all of Dansly, were made during the first open battles of the Ascension era against the Vimanti empire. The couriers were just as their name suggested then, being trained in the art of traveling through difficult terrain, all trained in Juris in the city of Port Sin, within the confines of Arnstey Keep. Couriers would become the primary source of communication across the world, sending and obtaining information between warfronts, and because of this, would soon become a primary target for the Vimanti Empire anytime they could spot them on the field.

When it became clear that not training couriers in some form of viable defense was not an option with the Vimanti zeroing in on them as targets of high priority. So then would begin the training of every courier in combat, and the strengthening of each Courier's strengths and the minimization of their weaknesses, and the creation of The Forerunner board. Through the creation of The Forerunner board there would come the Arnstey Routes.

The Arnstey Routes were a number of points of delivery and respite for couriers across the world of Dansly, places hidden away from the eyes of the Vimanti, or at the very least extremely difficult to find in the midst of battle. The Arnstey Routes would become the major highways for any courier to take both when delivering information and attempting to hide from pursuing Vimanti forces. However, while the Arnstey routes were successful in keeping couriers from hiding during deliveries, it did not help Arnstey Keep from continuing to be hidden from the ire of the Vimanti for long. In an attempt to destroy the primary source of the couriers that had been in a thorn in their side for quite some time at that point, launched an attack on Arnstey keep. But due to the training of the Couriers within Arnstey, and the experience compounded with the surviving couriers from conflicts with the Vimanti, as well as the general wily nature of Couriers in general, the Vimanti did not succeed, but did destroy Arnstey Keep in the process.

The destruction of Arnstey keep, however few couriers were lost during the battle to defend it, spurred the creation of a new format for the Couriers. Courier Companies were created by the third generation of Forerunner Board members, leaving behind new board members and the next generation of couriers to rebuild Arnstey Keep while the first six Courier Companies, otherwise known as The Herald Six.

The Herald Six would establish the format that later courier companies would take as their own and update it as the times change. The original six companies would also develop their own ways of doing things, developing their own variety of jobs and couriers that would suit their strengths and make them stronger as a whole, often traveling the world and fighting the Vimanti on the go before eventually becoming too large and having to create a place like Arnstey to base themselves.

The Herald Six would dissolve soon after the fall of the Vimanti empire and through their dissolution, other courier companies made of the couriers from the era of Ascension would be made and would offer their services to the new and budding countries that had begun to spring up after the need to be united had fallen to the wayside and old rivalries sprung to the surface. As time has passed and the Vimanti move further back into peoples minds, Courier companies have become the prime Mercenary companies that governments, companies and rich individuals hire to protect them or their assets, and the Forerunner board have become the beginning stages for every new courier, experienced or no.

5 notes · View notes

bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

White Butterflies pt iii. || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

Words: 2028

Warnings: Mentions of arranged marriage, drowning, (veiled threats?)

Summary: An owl’s cry is bad luck

A/N: Ah, took a couple of days, sorryyyyyy

i | ii | iii | iv | v

This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.

“Princess Y/N” Bjorn greeted you, “Come with me, Ivar’s going to announce the raids.”

“Firstly, we can stop with the titles, I’ve been here almost two months now, we’re friends, no?” you grinned, and he nodded, beckoning you to join him on the path to the hall, “and secondly, since I am no shield-maiden, do I really have to have my afternoon spent watching men argue and shout over their mead?”

He laughed, “All the same, you are a member of the family, and I feel that you should find out, I wanted you to know earlier, but Ivar refused.” you frowned, curious, but followed him into the Great Hall. You picked out your husband and Ubbe in the crowd, greeting them and kissing Hvitserk on the cheek.

Ivar called for the attention of the hall, and the room fell silent. “People of Kattegat,” Ivar started, “I have called you all here to announce the destination of our summer’s raids.” the crowd cheered enthusiastically, spilling ale in the process, “Now, I understand that you all have been asking for the last few weeks, and I’ve come to my decision. We’ve fallen out with plenty of countries, and so I feel we shouldn’t take on more than we can handle, no? That is why, in a moon’s time, we will be travelling to the home of my dear brother’s wife, Y/N.”

Cheers went up around you, but Ivar and Hvitserk kept their eyes on you, watching for a reaction. Standing there, you realised that your mother had done an amazing job on training you to keep your emotions private. You stood there, straight-faced and calm, but internally panicking.

“Brother,” Ubbe said, “By doing this, you breach the terms of the agreement one that you signed, it would be unwise to do such a thing. They have a large army, a strong one, have you considered that it would not be so wise?”

“We have the largest army in the world,” Ivar said, a cheer went up, “And we have an inside woman, no?”

Stares turned to you, and you sighed, stepping forwards. “My king, it would be an honour to help you in this attack. Though I must admit, women were not told battle plans and such where I come from.”

“Well I suppose you’ve just got to tell us all you know, hmm?” he said, as if he expected nothing less.

You walked away, full of panic. You did not care for your family, your country or its people - there wasn’t a single good person in that court - but you were worried. If your father found out he would try to get to you - contact you or hurt you - he would do anything to turn you back to your old country. He would expect it. You had no doubt he would hurt the people you were close to, maybe even kill them, if it meant you helped him. You felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N,” said Hvitserk, “Are you okay?” you turned abruptly to face him.

“My family is many things, but they are not high-minded people.” you said, “I have seen both cultures, and you, as vikings, in the way you fight, you are honourable, and honest, but they will stab you in the back, they will poison you and manipulate you to meet their own ends. Their army is smaller, but they will find out our strategies and plans. To do this, we would have to fight in the least viking way possible.”

Hvitserk stared at you, and you continued, “Ivar is punching above his weight, and I don’t want to watch a futile battle. I’ll help, but don’t expect me to support this. I don’t love them, but I also don’t want this to start a war, and by doing this Ivar is starting a war that I don’t think he’ll win.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and exited the hall, inhaling the cold, fresh air.

“Y/N,” Arthur greeted, and you looked up from your embroidery.

“Arthur,” you forced a smile, “What brings you here?”

“Theodore.” he says, and you frowned lightly.

“What’s Theo done?” you said, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Theodore told a servant girl that you were… courting… a boy from Lord Jackson’s court.” he sat down in front of you, and glared into your eyes. You held the stare, swallowing the fear induced by the glint in his eyes. Like he was mad, like he would kill you. “Now,” he began, drawing his dagger, and holding it to the light, “You are young, too young for betrothal, but in a couple of years, no doubt, once you’ve got your monthly blood, you will undoubtedly marry. And you know, our family is the most important thing.” he lifted the blade so that you could see your face staring back at you, “so we can’t have you marry some unimportant, good-for-nothing Lord in one of our own courts, can we?”

“Mother said-”

He pushed the flat side of the blade against your collar bone, the edge cold metal threatening to twist and slice your skin. “Mother knows that you will marry to form an alliance, and if you stray from the path that your father is building for you, then people will get hurt, and you are too kind to let that happen.” the blade twisted, and drops of blood trickled down your skin.

“Thank you for your counsel, brother.”

You’d known then that everything he’d said was true. You’d spent your whole life preparing for this marriage. You’d learnt Frankish and German and Latin fluently, and could just about get by in at least four other languages, so that you could speak to any foreign suitors and handle visitors to your court. You’d learnt to write, read, sew and embroider so as to have reputable skills to help in your life. You’d learnt manners and etiquette to impress suitors. You’d been taught how to veil threats, hide emotions, and test other’s certitude.

You had been prepared for it, yet when it had happened, you couldn’t have been in more shock. You had been thrown into a world with different Gods, customs and celebrations. You already understood and spoke the language, but were nowhere near fluent, and struggled to keep up with conversation, especially given the refusal to teach any language relating to another religion.

You felt out of your depth.

You stood on the docks of Kattegat, the sea stretched out before you, turbulent and stormy. The waves rising metres into the air, and winds cold and harsh against your skin, biting and clawing at you. The swell of the wave was noticeable from the moment it entered the fjord, rising and surging towards you with purpose. You wanted to run, to get out of the way, but your feet were stuck, you couldn’t move. The wave only seconds away from hitting, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the impact hit you, you were blown away, floating in the undercurrents as water took the town as its own. The wave pulled back, and you were swept away, out of the fjord, and into the endless waters of the sea. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t tell left from right, up from down. The depths gave you no means of escape, and your lungs were collapsing, you were sinking. Forced by the water, your mouth opened, and water filled your lungs.

But you did not die.

You hung there, in the middle of the sea, breathing water. You pulled yourself forwards through the water, your eyes wide open, stinging, but seeing. You pulled yourself through the water, and realised that you suddenly knew how to swim. You felt yourself begin to relax and felt your guard drop. You regained your bearings.

But then the water became a mess of fangs and scales and blood and you were disorientated and hurt again. Panic filled your system and you pushed yourself away, trying to escape the huge writhing body that was thrashing all around you. You found yourself watching the thing from a distance, before you saw its eyes.

Evil, red, hateful, they caught you in their gaze, growing bigger, more vicious, bloodthirsty and hunting. You saw its fangs, pale and sharp and full of venom, its scales smooth and perfect. This - this thing - was a monster, a beast, made for murder and hate and unspeakable deeds. It was hunting.

And you were the prey.

The mouth of the serpent came close so quickly that if you shut your eyes you would have missed it. It was so big that for a split-second you realised it would swallow you whole, and you were as small as a mouse is to a bear.

You were going to die.

Air filled your lungs as you sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, panting. Everything was blurred and all you were aware of was your breathing - shallow, quick and ragged - everything else was unclear.

You felt faintly aware that someone had sat up next to you and you could feel their arm over your shoulders, pulling you into them, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay? Y/N, tell me what happened, talk to me, me heart, talk to me.”

The murmur pierced through your dumb state, and everything came back into focus. You could feel tears streaming down your face. You brought your attention to Hvitserk, whose face taught with concern, eyebrows pulled down to a frown, his eyes, dark and strong, but he too looked scared witless, on the verge of tears.he took your face in his hands, “My Princess, tell me what happened.”

“I, uh, I was at the docks.” your speech, you realised, was broken. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever been in front of someone, “and there was this - this wave. It was coming towards me, so fast, and it seemed… almost, I don’t know, angry. It flooded all of Kattegat - the whole thing - and took me with it back out to sea. And I was trying to hold my breath - obviously - and I don’t know how to swim, so I was panicking. But - but I could breathe.”

He frowned, “Underwater?”

“Yes, it was like I was breathing the water itself.” you sighed, “But then, just as I got my bearings, this huge thing came and it was, like, thrashing, around me. I - I got away, but this, giant, huge… snake, I think, it saw me. And it looked like it wanted to kill me, for no real reason. And it surged towards me, it was so big that it fully, like, I don’t know, it consumed me?” you looked at your lap, and felt tears falling.

“Hey,” he looked into your eyes, “hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. But do you know what this means?”

“No,” you said, “I’ve never had a dream like that before.”

“You could breathe underwater, that means you have Njord’s favour.”

“Njord?” you asked, despite how you were trying to learn about the Gods, you didn’t know them all.

“The God of the Sea, and the Wind, and of Trade.” He explained. “We should tell the others of your dream, it’s important.”

“Important how?” you asked.

“Important because we want to have his favour for our sails to your land.” he kissed your nose, lightly. “It’s daybreak anyway, come to our meeting with me later, help us out.”

“For you,” you kissed him, and then left the bed, calling a thrall to help you dress. Hvitserk left quickly, kissing your cheek and assuring your attendance to the small war council.

You went to the yew tree before the council, and prayed. You prayed for family, but not family that shared your blood. You prayed for the family whose home you lived in and whose success depended on you. You wondered what had become of Theo, and if your family was still healthy, and you questioned if you wondered this out of love or curiosity, and if they thought the same of you. Somewhere, in the distance, an owl called.

tag(s): @soleil-dor @siliethkaijuy

28 notes · View notes

meghanpage · 4 years

Text

To the Stars Ch. 1 - Maiden Voyage

Words: 1832

Also on AO3

---

The dock was packed with bodies, all jostling in their queues, voices raised in wonder at the massive ship waiting for them.

The RMS Titanic stood proudly in her moorings, dwarfing the huge crowd waiting to board. Cranes lifted crates and other cargo onto her deck, while first class passengers were escorted up the gangplanks and third class made their way through health inspection. White Star Line porters raised their voices to direct the crowd, checking luggage and welcoming passengers aboard. And through it all, no one could reign in their thrill over the phenomenon of a ship - the biggest ever built, a marvel of engineering.

The nasally toot of a car horn broke through the din of the crowd, warning people to move aside for the trio of cars trundling down the dock. As they rolled to a stop alongside the ship, the driver of the lead vehicle jumped from his seat and hurried around to the side, opening the door and holding out a hand for the passenger.

She took it and stepped gracefully out of the car, onto the wood of the dock. Tilting back her wide brimmed hat, Valentina took her first look at the ship that was to carry her away.

Before this moment, everything had seemed like a far-off idea, just talk and planning. With her father’s death had come the revelation of his debt, and the family fortune had been whittled away. Her sister Eva had decided there was only one thing to do to secure their futures: have Valentina marry, and marry well.

So Valentina had found herself with a ring on her finger. Her grief for her father had lingered, and she felt bitter that she wasn’t given her time to mourn, Eva pushing her to get over it and go socializing as soon as possible. Even so, it had been easier to just play her part, winning over a respectable man and letting her sister handle all the arrangements.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t truly care for Lucho, that sometimes she could barely stand his presence. She was almost as good at ignoring her own wishes as he was. He was a gentleman of high standing, someone who could secure her and her sister’s futures.

So she had done what she had to, and accepted his proposal. She knew what was to come, but still, it had all felt so distant, more like a rumor of someone else’s life.

But now the Titanic was in front of her, and it was all too real.

Someone exited the car behind her, and Valentina looked over to find her fiancé, Lucho, gazing at the ship with pride, as if it was he that had built it.

In the mood to be a bit petulant, Valentina remarked, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It doesn’t look any bigger than the Mauretania.”

Lucho scoffed. “Don’t be like that, Vale. This is Titanic! It’s over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and much more luxurious.”

Valentina said nothing, letting his adulations of the ship wash over her like so much background noise as she wandered a little ways away. Lucho shook his head, holding out his hand to help the last occupant of the car step out. “Your sister is far too hard to impress, Eva.”

Eva gave him a polite chuckle, her own eyes fixed on the Titanic. “So this is the ship they say is unsinkable,” she said, her voice appraising.

“It is unsinkable,” Lucho stated grandly. “God himself could not sink this ship-”

Valentina was glad when a porter interrupted Lucho about their baggage, letting her take in her surrounding without his grandstanding. She watched as workers loaded luggage onto pallets, as lower class passengers had their heads checked for lice, as people already aboard waved jubilantly from the decks of the ship. All around her in the thronging crowd, voices were raised in excitement at finally boarding the Titanic .

All she wanted to do was scream. Her father was barely cold in the ground, and here she was, being carted back home with a veritable stranger by her side. She didn’t understand how Eva could even think of leaving the place where León was buried. Still, to ensure her family was taken care of, this was likely the best option she had.

Besides, she was a well-bred lady, and knew she was expected to act like one. She pushed her discomfort down and focused on the moment.

“Chivis, my coat?” she asked the family maidservant, receiving a confirmation as Lucho herded the group towards the loading area. Chivis was an older woman who had worked for the Carvajals for as long as Valentina could remember. She was glad she was there, a familiar face to keep her company.

All too soon they were scaling the gangplank, porters just inside the doors to greet each passenger with a proud smile.

With Eva in front, Lucho to her side, and Lucho’s manservant, Montilla following close behind, Valentina couldn’t shake the feeling she was being led onto the ship in chains.

---

Juliana studied her opponents around their small table, searching their faces for any tell, no matter how fleeting. She kept her own face carefully neutral, despite the way her heart was pounding in her chest. Piled in the center of the table was all the money she owned, down to the last cent. It was a risk, a huge one, but she figured that since she had nothing, she had nothing to lose. Besides, the contents of the pot were well worth the gamble. It was all in, everyone having turned out their pockets. A Swiss army knife and a pocket watch joined the jumble of coins, and on top was the piece that had everyone’s palms sweating - a single steerage ticket for the RMS Titanic.

Juliana discarded a card, hiding a tremble in her fingers as she drew another. Her fate depended on this card. With this draw she could be traveling on the greatest ship the world had ever seen, traveling towards home and her mother’s embrace… or she could lose everything.

As she added the card to her hand, she had to fight to keep a smile from her face. A ten. Paired with her other ten and her trio of threes, she had a full house.

She couldn’t celebrate yet though. She still had to see what the other players had.

“All right, moment of truth,” she said. Someone’s life was about to change, right there in that pub.

She watched as the other revealed their cards one by one. The woman to her left threw hers down with a scowl, showing nothing of worth. The man across the table had nothing as well, leaning back in his chair in defeat.

That only left one player. Juliana’s hear picked up speed once more, threatening to beat out of her chest. One last player, but the most daunting one. As the person who had bet the ticket, he had the most motivation of them all to win it back.

He fixed her with a smug look, and Juliana’s stomach swooped as he laid his cards out.

“Two pair,” she remarked, almost breathless. A two pair. She couldn’t believe it.

She had done it.

Shaking her head contritely, she let out a sigh. “You sure do make it hard,” she told the man. A look of triumph passed over his face, but before he could start celebrating, she continued, “Hard for me to wipe you clean. Full house!”

She slapped her threes over tens on the table, jumping to her feet in victory. The table burst into motion; the man across from her leaped to his feet to check her cards, while the man she had bested slapped his hands to his head, his face painted in stupefaction.

Juliana was unable to stop the laughter that poured from her. She snatched the ticket from the table, holding it high. “I’m going to America!”

“No, lass.” The barkeeper’s voice cut through the din of excitement. “Titanic is going to America. In five minutes.” He pointed his thumb over her shoulder to the wall clock, which showed five minutes to noon.

With a curse, Juliana scrambled to scrape her winnings from the table into her canvas bag. Tossing the bag over her shoulder, she dashed out of the pub and towards the ship. As she sprinted full-tilt down the docks, weaving through the crowd and dodging carts and equipment, she couldn’t help but let out another laugh. She had done it, she had won, and soon she would be riding in high style.

She spotted a gangplank just being pulled away from the ship and put on an extra burst of speed, shouting for the porters to wait.

“I’m a passenger! A passenger!” she called as she rushed to the end of the gangplank, waving her ticket at the porter who was hanging out of the open door in the side of the ship.

He shot her a suspicious look. “Have you been through the inspection queue?”

“Of course,” she lied easily. “Anyways, I’m American.”

The porter hesitated for a moment, but then relented. “Right. Come aboard.”

Juliana jumped the space between the gangplank and the door, giving the porter a quick thanks and hurrying off further into the ship before he could question her further. As she darted through the crowded third class corridors, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Bypassing her bunk, she raced straight for the upper decks. She found an open spot at the railing and dropped her bag at her feet, leaning out over the top rung.

Breathing hard, she finally let herself take it all in. She was on the Titanic, the largest and most luxurious ship the world had ever seen. And it was going to take her back home. It had been years since she had seen America - even longer since she had seen her mother. They had kept in touch during Juilana’s travels, but it had been sporadic, and the idea of seeing her ma’s face again made her chest ache. But through an extraordinary stroke of luck, she could now be on her way to do just that, Chino be damned.

She let herself get caught up in the jubilant atmosphere as everyone waved and shouted to those seeing the ship off down at the docks. A wide grin crossed her face, but she didn’t wave - she didn’t know anyone down below, although that wasn’t the point. As the crowd around her called their farewells, she made her own goodbyes to that part of her life. She said goodbye to the rolling British countryside and the twisting streets of Paris, to England, to France, to Spain.

And though she truly would miss her time in Europe, it was time to look out across the sea, to another new chapter in her life.

#amar a muerte #juliantina #valentina carvajal #juliana valdes #fanfiction #my work #titanic au

9 notes · View notes

ingek73 · 3 years

Text

01-22-2112:00 PM

‘Time is running out’: Prince Harry calls for social media reform after U.S. Capitol riot

In a Q&A with Fast Company, The Duke of Sussex responds to social media’s role in the Capitol attack and explains why the next step must be to hold social platforms accountable.

[Photo: Samir Hussein/WireImage/Getty Images]

BY KATHARINE SCHWAB

LONG READ

Over the past year, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, have become increasingly outspoken advocates for healthier social media—a topic that is clearly near to their hearts, given the horrendous vitriol and harassment they have faced online and in the press.

By partnering with organizations that aim to understand technology’s impact on society and vocally critiquing the state of online life in the media, the couple are using their clout to push for change in the current digital ecosystem. In an essay for Fast Company last August, Prince Harry called on business leaders to rethink their role in funding the advertising system that underlies the misinformation and divisive rhetoric that’s often shared on social platforms.

“This remodeling must include industry leaders from all areas drawing a line in the sand against unacceptable online practices as well as being active participants in the process of establishing new standards for our online world,” he wrote.

Now, social media is facing an inflection point, just weeks after a violent mob stormed the Capitol in an attack that was conceived, plotted, and stoked primarily online. Powerful platforms including Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube responded by suspending Donald Trump’s accounts, while Amazon and Apple cut ties with Parler, a social network that was used by the rioters. But experts and regulators believe that more must be done to reform social media.

Against this background, Prince Harry is once again imploring people to pay attention to the problems social media have wrought. In a wide-ranging interview with Fast Company, he explains why social platforms must be held accountable for the Capitol attack and the circumstances that enabled it, and why we must remodel the digital world before it’s too late.

FC: Six months ago, you wrote an essay for Fast Company in which you asked companies to take action to ensure the meaningful reform of our “unchecked and divisive attention economy.” How has your perspective on social media’s role in society changed over the last few weeks since the attack on the U.S. Capitol?

Prince Harry: When I wrote that piece, I was sharing my view that dominant online platforms have contributed to and stoked the conditions for a crisis of hate, a crisis of health, and a crisis of truth.

And I stand by that, along with millions of others who see and feel what this era has done at every level—we are losing loved ones to conspiracy theories, losing a sense of self because of the barrage of mistruths, and at the largest scale, losing our democracies.

The magnitude of this cannot be overstated, as noted even by the defectors who helped build these platforms. It takes courage to stand up, cite where things have gone wrong, and offer proposals and solutions. The need for that is greater than ever before. So I’m encouraged by and grateful for the groundswell of people who work—or have worked—inside these very platforms choosing to speak up against hate, violence, division, and confusion.

FC: Why is this topic so important to you? How was your outlook affected by the well-documented online harassment you and your wife have faced in the U.K.?

PH: I was really surprised to witness how my story had been told one way, my wife’s story had been told one way, and then our union sparked something that made the telling of that story very different.

That false narrative became the mothership for all of the harassment you’re referring to. It wouldn’t have even begun had our story just been told truthfully.

WE ARE LOSING LOVED ONES TO CONSPIRACY THEORIES, LOSING A SENSE OF SELF BECAUSE OF THE BARRAGE OF MISTRUTHS, AND AT THE LARGEST SCALE, LOSING OUR DEMOCRACIES.”

PRINCE HARRY, THE DUKE OF SUSSEX

But the important thing about what we experienced is that it led to us hearing from so many others around the world. We’ve thought a lot about those in much more vulnerable positions than us, and how much of a need there is for real empathy and support.

To their own degree, everyone has been deeply affected by the current consequences of the digital space. It could be as individual as seeing a loved one go down the path of radicalisation or as collective as seeing the science behind the climate crisis denied.

We are all vulnerable to it, which is why I don’t see it as a tech issue, or a political issue—it’s a humanitarian issue.

From an early age, the guiding principle in my life has been about the duty to truth, the pursuit of compassion, and the alleviation of suffering. My life has always been about trying to do my part to help those who need it most, and right now, we need this change—because it touches nearly every single thing we do or are exposed to.

FC: Where do we go from here? What do you think needs to change to create an online atmosphere where truth, equity, and free speech are all prioritized?

PH: I ask the same thing every day and lean on the experts to help give guidance on how to reform the state of our digital world—how we make it better for our kids, of course, but also for ourselves—now.

The avalanche of misinformation we are all inundated with is bending reality and has created this distorted filter that affects our ability to think clearly or even understand the world around us.

What happens online does not stay online—it spreads everywhere, like wildfire: into our homes and workplaces, into the streets, into our minds. The question really becomes about what to do when news and information sharing is no longer a decent, truthful exchange, but rather an exchange of weaponry.

WHAT HAPPENS ONLINE DOES NOT STAY ONLINE—IT SPREADS EVERYWHERE, LIKE WILDFIRE: INTO OUR HOMES AND WORKPLACES, INTO THE STREETS, INTO OUR MINDS.”

PRINCE HARRY, THE DUKE OF SUSSEX

The answer I’ve heard from experts in this space is that the common denominator starts with accountability. There has to be accountability to collective wellbeing, not just financial incentive. It’s hard for me to understand how the platforms themselves can eagerly take profit but shun responsibility.

There also has to be common, shared accountability. We can call for digital reform and debate how that happens and what it looks like, but it’s also on each of us to take a more critical eye to our own relationship with technology and media. To start, it doesn’t have to be that complicated. Consider setting limits on the time you spend on social media, stop yourself from endlessly scrolling, fact-check the source and research the information you see, and commit to taking a more compassionate approach and tone when you post or comment. These might seem like little things, but they add up.

Finally, there’s a responsibility to compassion that we each own. Humans crave connection, social bonds, and a sense of belonging. When we don’t have those, we end up fractured, and in the digital age that can unfortunately be a catalyst for finding connection in mass extremism movements or radicalisation. We need to take better care of each other, especially in these times of isolation and vulnerability.

FC: Since the Capitol riot, big tech companies from Twitter to Amazon have exercised their power by making determinations about who gets to use their products. Do you think companies should have the power to make decisions about who has access to some of the most prominent platforms on the internet?

PH: We have seen time and again what happens when the real-world cost of misinformation is disregarded. There is no way to downplay this. There was a literal attack on democracy in the United States, organised on social media, which is an issue of violent extremism. It is widely acknowledged that social media played a role in the genocide in Myanmar and was used as a vehicle to incite violence against the Rohingya people, which is a human rights issue. And in Brazil, social media provided a conduit for misinformation which ultimately brought destruction to the Amazon, which is an environmental and global health issue.

In a way, taking a predominately hands-off approach to problems for so long is itself an exercise in power.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about Speakers’ Corner, an area in London’s Hyde Park which is home to open-air debate, dialogue, and the exchange of information and ideas. I used to go past it all the time.

This concept of a ‘public square’ isn’t anything new—it can be traced back to the early days of democracies. You get up there and speak your piece. There are ground rules. You can’t incite violence, you can’t obscure who you are, and you can’t pay to monopolise or own the space itself. Ideas are considered or shot down; opinions are formed. At its best, movements are born, lies are laid bare, and attempts to stoke violence are rejected in the moment. At its worst, intolerance, groupthink, hate, and persecution are amplified. And at times, it forces lines to be drawn and rules or laws to emerge or be challenged.

I THINK IT’S A FALSE CHOICE TO SAY YOU HAVE TO PICK BETWEEN FREE SPEECH OR A MORE COMPASSIONATE AND TRUSTWORTHY DIGITAL WORLD.”

PRINCE HARRY, THE DUKE OF SUSSEX

I’m not saying we should abandon technology in favour of Speakers’ Corner. Rather, it’s that we should avoid buying into the idea that social media is the ultimate modern-day public square and that any attempt to ask platforms to be accountable to the landscape they’ve created is an attack or restriction of speech. I think it’s a false choice to say you have to pick between free speech or a more compassionate and trustworthy digital world. They are not mutually exclusive.

With these companies, in this model, we have a very small number of incredibly powerful and consolidated gatekeepers who have deployed hidden algorithms to pick the content billions see every day, and curate the information—or misinformation—everyone consumes. This radically alters how and why we inform opinions. It alters how we speak and what we decide to speak about. It alters how we think and how we react.

Ultimately, it has allowed for completely different versions of reality, with opposing sets of truth, to exist simultaneously. In this, one’s understanding of truth does not have to be based in fact, because there’s always an ability to furnish some form of “proof” to reinforce that version of “truth.” I believe this is the opposite of what we should want from our collective online community. The current model sorts and separates rather than bringing us together; it drowns out or even eliminates healthy dialogue and reasonable debate; it strips away the mutual respect we should have for each other as citizens of the same world.

FC: How do you plan to use your platform to push for change when it comes to hate speech, algorithmic amplification, and misinformation in 2021? Since you’re not a trained expert on these topics, why do you think people should listen to your perspective?

PH: I know enough to know that I certainly don’t know everything, especially when it comes to tech—but when you see this as a humanitarian issue, then you see the spread of misinformation as requiring a humanitarian response.

This is why my wife and I spent much of 2020 consulting the experts and learning directly from academics, advocates, and policymakers. We’ve also been listening with empathy to people who have stories to share—including people who have been deeply affected by misinformation and those who grew up as digital natives.

What we hope to do is continue to be a spotlight for their perspectives, and focus on harnessing their experience and energy to accelerate the pace of change in the digital world.

FC: Your Archewell Foundation has collaborated with several groups and institutions that aim to rethink technology and study its impact on people. As a philanthropist, why are you supporting research efforts within this space?

PH: If we’ve learned anything, it’s that our dominant technologies were built to grow and grow and grow, without serious consideration for the ripple effect of that growth. We have to do more than simply reconsider this model. The stakes are too high, and time is running out.

WE HAVE TO DO MORE THAN SIMPLY RECONSIDER THIS MODEL. THE STAKES ARE TOO HIGH, AND TIME IS RUNNING OUT.”

PRINCE HARRY, THE DUKE OF SUSSEX

There are a lot of incredible people and digital architects thinking about—or already working on—innovative and healthy platforms. We need to support them, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but also because it can make commercial sense. And we have to look at the state of competition and ensure that the landscape doesn’t indiscriminately squeeze out or incentivise against fresh ideas.

I believe we can begin to make our digital world healthier, more compassionate, more inclusive, and trustworthy.

And it’s time to move from rethinking to remodelling.

FC: Given your concerns about divisiveness, misinformation, and hate speech online, how have your views on using social media yourself changed over the last few years? How do you approach it now and are you planning to make any changes?

PH: It’s funny you should ask because ironically, we woke up one morning a couple of weeks ago to hear that a Rupert Murdoch newspaper said we were evidently quitting social media. That was ‘news’ to us, bearing in mind we have no social media to quit, nor have we for the past 10 months.

The truth is, despite its well-documented ills, social media can offer a means of connecting and community, which are vital to us as human beings. We need to hear each other’s stories and be able to share our own. That’s part of the beauty of life. And don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting that a reform of the digital space will create a world that’s all rainbows and sunshine, because that’s not realistic, and that, too, isn’t life.

There can be disagreement, conversation, opposing points of view—as there should be, but never to the extent that violence is created, truth is mystified, and lives are jeopardised.

We will revisit social media when it feels right for us—perhaps when we see more meaningful commitments to change or reform—but right now we’ve thrown much of our energy into learning about this space and how we can help.

FC: Are you optimistic or pessimistic about our ability to build a healthier online ecosystem?

PH: Optimistic, of course, because I believe in us, as human beings, and that we are wired to be compassionate and honest and good. Aspects of the digital space have unfortunately manipulated (or even highlighted) our weaknesses and brought out the worst in some.

We have to believe in optimism because that’s the world and the humanity I want for my son, and all of us.

We look forward to being part of the human experience—not a human experiment.

#royals #prince harry #duke of sussex #fast company

0 notes

eirenical · 4 years

Note

Q, T, U?

OK, last one of these for now, but [If anyone else would like to send letters, feel free!] ^_^

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

ahahaha... oh you’re going to get me into trouble. -.-;;; First of all, I’m not sure I can say that I’ve properly abandoned it, because I do still write for it and I do still love it and I do even reblog things for it, but at this point... Les Mis. And WOW that’s hard to say.

Part of it is that just... too many of my Les Mis friends have drifted away to other things. And when fewer and fewer people are posting for a fandom, it gets harder and harder to sustain an active fannish interest. And that was a lot of my issue. Part is that just... a lot of the currently prevalent headcanons and interpretations were just... not things I was interested in? Like, more and more, I felt like I was talking an entirely different language to the rest of the fandom and it was getting very frustrating. And finally... people were getting worse and worse about reblogging or commenting on things and that just sapped my desire to create anything new for the fandom. And some of that was probably also due to the other two things, but some of it is just a trend.

Compare that to my currently largest fandom of interest... I posted a gifset+meta for Guardian fandom and it got like 100 notes within a couple of days and sparked off a huge and AMAZING debate about magical healing jackets that I STILL have to respond to pieces of, because it’s such a small fandom in comparison that any new content is appreciated and it was so warm and welcoming that, I stg, I almost cried. Like... fandom hasn’t made me feel that good in a while, and I’ve MISSED IT. (I had a similar experience when I got into TUD fandom on a larger (albeit slightly less personalized) scale.)

So, yeah. Have I really abandoned Les Mis? Probably not. If nothing else, I AM going to fucking finish Muet, damn it. And I’m still going to run Feuilly Week in October. But yeah. I don’t think I’ll be as intense as I was about it before, and that still makes me sad. :( I mean... Les Mis was the longest fandom stop I’ve had in a while. 8 years? And I made a lot of friends there. So, I don’t think I’ll ever completely give it up, but I definitely need a break.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

MY ARO/ACE JIANG CHIANG HEADCANON. THAT IS ABSOLUTELY A HILL I WILL DIE ON.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

JUST THREE???? *dies*

OK, let’s start with Guardian...

Shen Wei: I am a sucker, a complete and total sucker, for the immortal(ish) character with the weight of the world on their shoulders, who insists on throwing their own health and mental wellbeing under the bus at any and every given opportunity if it will protect the people they love, BONUS POINTS if they are somehow also just a little naive and don’t quite know how to people or how to friends, because they’ve been alone for so long. ALSO, the “I appear totally shy and harmless and probably wear sweater vests and sleeve garters, but secretly am A TOTAL FUCKING BADASS” thing never, ever gets tiring. ;D And just... FUCK. There is not a SINGLE favorite character box that Shen Wei doesn’t check for me. ...also, he’s very pretty when he breaks. *eg* ^_~

The Untamed...

That’s a hard toss up between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. XD But a lot of the things that draw me to She Wei also draw me to WWX, so I’ll just say “Ditto” on that and do Jiang Cheng. ;D

Jiang Cheng: (Cribbing a bit from another answer...) He is the aro/ace disaster bb of my heart and he just wants his family to be HAPPY and TOGETHER and have ALL THE THINGS THEY WANT but also for them to be safe and to not leave him. And I relate SO HARD to that. I also relate to the fact that no matter what he says, it seems to come out wrong and just get him into further trouble. Because that is also one giant fucking mood. But seriously, he just loves his family SO MUCH and he tries SO HARD and life just keeps kicking him when he’s down, but he STILL TRIES TO BE THERE for the few loved ones he has left and I just... fuck I just love him so fucking much and HE DESERVED BETTER. TT^TT

And a third, a third, a third... hmm... how about Star Wars? ^_^

Obi-Wan Kenobi: So... I feel like a lot of the reasons I like a character boil down to “they’re pretty when they cry... and canon makes them cry a LOT.” XD But more importantly than the fact that canon does the best to break them... they keep GETTING BACK UP. They keep putting a smile on their face, even if sometimes it’s forced, and they KEEP GOING. And just... FUCK I am weak for that. And Obi-Wan is the epitome of that particular trope and I love him for it. TT^TT

#ask meme answers #long post #you will pry aroace!jc from my cold dead hands #^_^#anonymous #conversations through replies

4 notes · View notes

thatboomerkid · 4 years

Text

The Halidom City of Rho

The Halidom City of Rho -- Urban Adventure Location for use with the GammaFinder Setting by Owen K.C. Stephens

It drifts along, some seven & a half miles above the scarred, broken wasteland stretched-out far beneath it, pushing effortlessly against the hellish winds of ash, glass, and the blood-thick dust of Empires.

Through storms of lightning and radiation, poison and caustic vapor, alien screams and unnatural flame ... it drifts.

It makes long, strange circuits over the shattered world below: loops & whorls across the wastes, following designs scarcely comprehensible to the tens of thousands who cling desperately to the titanic chains, ropes and improvised city-structures hanging from its impossible, ancient bulk.

Whatever insane gods constructed the massive, weightless behemoth upon which the Halidom City of Rho now grows & hangs, they are long-since dead.

And yet this triumph of esoteric engineering still edges along the bruise-colored skies beneath a half-shattered moon, sweeping lightly over still forests of soot-smeared rebar and through canyons of shattered asphalt & gore-spattered iron pipes. For those in need, stranded far out in the deep desert as it draws close, the leviathan of Rho is nothing less than a miracle: sunrise at midnight, a crack of bright lightning along the spine of the rainbow.

For those who clutch precariously at the long shackles which drape down from the eerie alien-wrought heavens, eking out a meager living among the clacking pillars of ozone & rust, it is a home: nothing less, and nothing more.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

image from here

FUN FACTS ABOUT RHO

The gently-curved “Crown” at the absolute top of Rho hangs effortlessly in the sky at an altitude of about 12 kilometers (7.45 miles; 52,500 feet) straight up, drifting across the very bottom of the stratosphere. The very lowest levels of the city, conversely, are built to alternately hang a few feet into the air or drag gently along the ground, adjusted individually by the inhabitants of the Gasoline Docks to the specifics of the local terrain as needs arise.

The Crown itself is about 2 kilometers wide and generates a number of unnatural phenomena, the vast majority of which are indirectly beneficial to the maintenance of the city below. For example, every part of the great column beneath the Crown -- 151 cubic kilometers of swaying, densely-packed Urban city-sprawl -- has a breathable atmosphere and functions as a Low Gravity environment. In addition, the Crown seems to repel the worst excesses of wastelands weather by some unknown means: dozens of citizens die each year when Rho passes through truly lethal sections of the wastes, certainly ... but not hundreds or thousands.

The majority of Rho is anchored -- directly or indirectly -- to one of the massive crystalline “crown-chains” that descend from the superstructure above the city; constructed of an unknown, seemingly indestructible translucent material found nowhere else in the known world, these vast crown-chains provide more than simple constructional support: the chains generate soft lighting at night, produce electricity for those with the means to tap them, remain cold to the touch even in temperatures exceeding 140 Fahrenheit, and slowly absorb a variety of dangerous environmental effects -- including poisonous fumes and radiation -- into their milky, hypnotically-glowing depths.

The city generally moves at a speed of about 8 to 24 kilometers an hour (5-15 mph), making infrequent stops for unknown reasons; the longest recorded full stop lasted for just over 137 hours before the city abruptly began moving once again. The city follows something approximating a “route,” although attempts to predict where the city will move to more than a week out have only about a 20% chance of being correct. Some seemingly-arbitrary sites in the wasteland are visited seasonally (passing close-by three to four times a year), while other destinations are utterly unique: approached only once, then forever abandoned.

The city of Rho still passes within walking-distance of the twin corpse-pits where Alpha and Beta once stood, slowing to a crawl as it does so. In the wake of the Omega Invasion, Rho is perhaps the single largest and most prosperous city in the known world; Rho escaped the most direct attentions of Omega by pure good fortune, spending the majority of the invasion sailing across a near-impassable radioactive desert, all-but-inaccessible to the majority of Omega’s forces. Although casualties were still high, as the city more than once came under savage assault by aerial troops sent from distant Omega, Rho survived when far greater cities fell.

Exposure to the weird energies of the Crown and its chains is known to cause any number of particularly abnormal mutations; among the most extreme are those who -- born to human parents -- develop into haan at puberty. Haan who metamorphose in this way are believed to breed true and are viewed with a kind of quasi-religious terror by the more-human denizens of Rho; the majority of these creatures ascend to Crownside at the invitation of their predecessors, dwelling high above the city in what those below imagine to be an incomprehensible alien splendor. Foreign Haan -- those born outside of Rho -- are viewed with grave suspicion.

Rho has enormous sections -- some of them thousands of feet tall and hundreds of feet wide -- of abandoned, crumbling buildings damaged during the assault by Omega: foundries, laboratories, water-treatment facilities, power-plants, greenhouses, libraries, art galleries and stranger locales -- hanging amongst the otherwise densely-packed hovels, speakeasies, windmills, turbines, farms, tenements, gambling-dens and swaying rope-bridges. Superstitious locals avoid these corpse-buildings for a variety of reasons ... some of them purely practical, as bizarre alien predators birthed of Omega’s unnatural weaponry are, on occasion, successfully tracked-down and slain there.

History: No records purport to describe the construction of Rho; it seemingly was, is, and always shall be. As long as people have wandered the ashen-grey wastes in search of food and shelter, the Halidom City of Rho has drifted from horizon to horizon, endlessly spitting-forth shrieking raiders on motorbikes or loosing waves of white-robed flower-children tasked with spreading the gospel of their mysterious apocalypse-faith.

Rho has acted as a kaiju-scale mobile base to any number of cults, war-bands and forbidden esoteric societies over the centuries, and as many wars of conquest have been fought directly beneath the distant, ever-glowing glassy disk of the Crown -- staining the dimly-luminous chains of the city a dripping crimson -- as have been waged against the outside world by ravenous believers seeking to climb into heaven and confront God eye-to-eye.

In recent years, Rho has come under the control of a powerful, charismatic outsider: the mutant Atlas Hagane.

THE HAGANE TWINS

Fifteen years ago, Atlas & Althea Hagane were motorcycle-soldiers of the Kló Slátrunar, reaving across the Labyrinth-Trees Obsidian beneath the marrow-stained banner of Yotun Juss, Clanfather at the Seven Peaks of Xi.

Ten years ago, each of the twins was a blooded Flotaforingi of Clan Juss, commanding a full fleet in the name of their power-mad Yotun.

Five years ago, the smiling twins came to Rho with their Stríðsbandalag forming a vast war-procession behind them.

Today ... well, now Atlas rules the city -- presiding over the Council of Clockwrights with an iron fist -- while his sister operates in the shadows, working her strange flesh-sorcery wherever she pleases.

Atlas finds himself quite popular with the people after instituting reforms to curb corruption, relax taxes on several vices & abolish the slave-trade, and many low-born adore him for allowing certain neighborhoods in good standing beneath Clockside a token representation on the High Council. The people are less enthusiastic about Althea Hagane, admittedly ... although she is highly regarded in certain circles for her sponsorship in ordering the construction of several new hospitals in Rho.

That she uses these hospitals are her private feeding-grounds is a closely kept secret in Clockside.

Atlas is a technological genius with a mutant gift for manipulating large carbon polymers; this may be treated as a Super-Strength Tiered Mutation with a range of 30 feet (rather than touch) that only affects plastics. He is a lean & hungry man with sharp features, small round glasses, and a cold, brusque demeanor, known to smile only when he has outwitted an enemy.

Althea has some more-mysterious ability to manipulate biochemistry with a touch, although her gifts of healing & poison are little understood by anyone other than herself and her brother. Well-built, attractive and outgoing, Althea gladly plays the role of the blushing socialite for anyone stupid enough to fall for the act. In truth, she is far more dangerous than her “little brother”.

The two keep a close-knit gang of former motorcycle raiders -- blooded clansmen of Kló Slátrunar -- as their personal entourage, and rarely make appearances below Clockside without them.

Atlas dreams of finally unlocking the incomprehensible codes to pilot the Crown of Rho directly. Althea dreams of living forever, a goddess over the wastes, indulging her obscene appetites eternally.

Althea is far closer to achieving her dream than her brother is to realizing his own.

Economy: A city adrift, endlessly wandering, Rho is a massive trade-hub that gobbles-up & sheds cargo across the wastes. Exotic and high-tech goods are more common here than nearly anywhere else in the world, as the city makes brisk trade in oddities from every corner of the wasteland ... yet the Nomad City is ever-hungry for the most basic of goods, including potable water, medicine, building supplies, livestock, leather, weapons, steel, fuel and food.

Those who are willing to barter & bargain-hunt in the clanking, claustrophobic markets of Rho soon find that the towering Halidom City more than lives up to its reputation: priceless relics and unusual treasures available nowhere else in the world can -- on occasion -- be bought or sold for little more than a loaf of moldy bread or a warm half-sixer of sugary, caffeinated Blood-Fast Juice.

A clever trader can make a tidy fortune here.

Of course, there’s a reason why one of Rho’s primary exports is stripped-naked corpses, littering the parched desert earth behind it in waves.

Government: Three distinct tiers of government rule over three distinct tiers of citizenry dwelling on Rho, although -- in theory -- all citizens living beneath the glorious heights of Crownside are obedient to the Council of Clockwrights and to their master, High Clockwright Atlas Hagane.

The unquestioned masters of Rho are the haan, who dwell above the disk and the city ... and who may or may not possess some means of guiding the Crown, steering Rho and her people safely through the wasteland to new destinations. There’s no actual proof that the haan have the technology or the know-how to even attempt such a feat, but that doesn’t stop citizens -- desperate for something to believe in -- from offering-up sacrifices & sacraments to the haan whenever they make their infrequent journeys below the gleaming heavens.

The haan communicate rarely, if at all, stepping along the petal-shrouded walkways before them to take whatever they desire from the city or her citizens in exchange for their eerie glowing-glass coins with little ceremony. Haan within the city are subject to no laws but their own: if a haan violates a Code under the Clockwrights, that haan is exiled to Crownside and -- in theory -- never seen again.

No one has ever gotten a straight answer as to what, precisely, the haan are doing up there.

Of greater interest to visitors is the legal code of the Council of Clockwrights. This parliament is elected democratically from among the citizens of Clockside (in theory, the finest minds in the known world) and their decisions are (again, in theory) reached via negotiation and compromise, implemented according to majority rule ... but it should be noted that their dictums are not subject to the legal restraint of a constitution or even of precedent.

In other words, if the Council decides that it wants you -- you, personally -- dead, they can simply vote to have you executed. Or, more likely, to place a sizable bounty on your head and be done with it.

LAW & ORDER

It’s worth noting that Rho doesn't have a standing police-force. Doesn’t need one, either. Instead, it uses a system of bounties.

Basically anyone can become a bounty-hunter, but you do have to register first; the Council of Clockwrights levies a small fee to register, and they can revoke your license if you piss them off. Anyone can place a bounty on anyone, but frivolous or malicious bounties may be nullified by a simple yes/no vote from the Council of Clockwrights; if they catch you abusing the system, you pay the full price of the bounty to the city’s coffers and half the price to the wronged target of your bounty ... or to their next of kin, if the Council didn’t get around to nullifying a lethal bounty-contract before a hunter could collect.

Most bounties are not lethal.

Most simply require the target to be brought before a judge ... sometimes by violence, of course.

97% of criminals in Rho are not hauled all the way up to the Council of Clockwrights to stand trial. The Council is busy, and they don’t care about you. Instead, the accused are subject to the whims of a traveling bounty-judge, who rules in the stead of the Council. Again, pretty much anyone can become a bounty-judge, but you have to register first. This is significantly more expensive than becoming a bounty-hunter, and you have to prove citizenship in Rho going back at least three years.

Note that you do NOT need to prove anything approximating “competence in adjudicating legal disputes”.

Both parties in a suit must agree to the use of the same bounty-judge; for this reason, bounty-judges carefully cultivate their reputations as fair, wise and impartial -- or at the very least easy to bribe -- so that they can ensure plenty of business.

The ruling of a bounty-judge is final.

People who don’t like a bounty-judge -- or the particular ruling of a bounty-judge -- usually make their displeasure known by murdering the bounty-judge. Popular bounty-judges are, of course, significantly more difficult to murder than unpopular ones, so bounty-judges have a distinct incentive to rule in a way that matches the expectations of the mob.

It’s a surprisingly efficient self-regulating system, if you care significantly more about maintaining a semblance of public order among desperate survivors & career criminals than some abstract concept of “justice”.

Rho has no prisons; punishments are usually levied in the form of involuntary indentured servitude, monetary fines, or as particularly amusing, poetic & ironic penalties: a man who steals fish from a widow might first be beaten with fish, then placed in a stockade dressed as a fish, then forced to spend a year -- dressed as a fish -- working in a hatchery of the Creaking Farms, with a portion of his wage garnished to support the victim & her family.

Bounty-judges with a sense of humor are more popular, so judges often compete to establish a name for themselves as “quirky”.

Theoretically, the Council is guided by an impartial High Clockwright: the wisest and most honorable citizen of Clockside, a population selected from the rabble below for their genius. In practice, of course, the High Clockwright is invariably the most calculating & charismatic strongman of their generation, ruling over a cowed chamber of hereditary senators through threat of violence.

Far beneath the glorious heights of Crownside, of course, rival gangs and cults extend their own rule just as far as their knives will allow, creating their own courts & punishments as they see fit. By the time a dictum from the Council of Clockwrights has trickled-down to the scavengers, scrappers, tradesmen, pirates, grease-monkeys and gamblers of the Gasoline Docks, it’s usually viewed as a little more than pomp & puffery.

SLICING THROUGH CHAINS

In the chain-forest of Rho, any weapon that can (quickly) carve through metal is strictly forbidden. The punishment for carrying or brandishing any weapon that could detach a chunk of the city -- and everything beneath it! -- in the heat of a brawl is swift, merciless execution.

For that reason, laser & plasma-weapons are the most valuable form of contraband in Rho, and make a tempting commodity for those who dare to try their luck smuggling such tech into the Halidom City.

Places of Interest:

Crownside: Above the clouds, above the great & shining disk, it is said that the haan -- the high aristocracy of Rho -- live much as the very wealthiest ancients of the Unburned Times once did: walking wide, well-swept cobblestone boulevards which curl & weave through sparkling forests between massive mansions, tending to their palatial gardens among riverbeds & waterfalls, doted upon by legions of well-bred servants. In their copious free time, it is supposed, they must somehow guide or otherwise serve the disk. Of course, no one goes Crownside except the haan and those they select to accompany them; what’s they are up to up there, precisely, only they know.

Clockside: Just beneath the disk, among towering buildings lit only by the glow of the Crown directly above, the Council of Clockwrights and their extended families inhabit a dense spider-web of laboratories & libraries, observatories & orreries, colleges & cathedrals brought up from the aching earth below at inconceivable cost. The Halidom City of Rho imagines itself the most glorious of meritocracies (technically, a geniocracy), wherein any mechanical genius -- no matter the station of their birth -- capable of puzzling-out the mysterious engines of the ancients may earn themselves a name & rank among the clerks and courts that eternally bet-upon the city’s next move.

The Creaking-Farms: Just beneath the illuminated marvels of on-high are cubic miles-upon-miles of hatcheries, hydroponic gardens and hanging plantations thick with cash-crops. Rho is, after all, fed not just by what can be stripped from the wastes below but also by industrial-scale agricultural engineering carried-out with brutal space-saving efficiency. Tenements of farm-workers are crowded upon one another in endless hive-stacks, mingling in filth with the insects & fungus they tend. The wet life-web of the Farms absorbs airborne pollutants from the Reaches below, while providing fresh delicacies for those above.

The Rusted Reaches: Beneath the farms, the smoldering and lightning-wreathed factories of Rho bustle with workers, churning out goods for trade, use & sale by the ton. Several of the massive, half-broken 3D-printing facilities plucked from the wasteland & caught-up in the iron webs of the Rusted Reaches are capable of producing objects otherwise unknown to the world: these ancient buildings strain, spark & creak, vomiting-forth weird, tilted treasures often less valuable than the raw materials used in their creation ... and, on rare occasion, devices more valuable than any cache of earthly riches.

Lower Depths: The detritus of six miles of industry & experimentation above is collected here, where gutter-rats scrape by filtering-out whatever valuables can be collected from the rain of poison, madness and shattered, ill-understood tech cascading endlessly down from the heights. This is the last stop for waste: anything that can’t be used here goes unceremoniously off the edge of Rho to topple a few thousand feet into that unforgiving desert which trails endlessly behind the city.

The Gasoline Docks: Rho lives or dies by what can be scrounged by hand -- often at gunpoint -- from the cracked, dust-choked & sun-baked earth below. The very bottom of the city thus represents a thriving, boisterous melting-pot of cultures, as the Nomad City pulls-in whatever it deems potentially valuable & discards the rest. This is the face of Rho to outsiders, as the great majority of visitors to the Halidom City never make it more than a half-mile above the surface of the planet before returning to earth ... one way or another.

Adventures in Rho

An Undiscovered Route: When word comes down from Clockside that the city has adjusted course and will soon be heading over nearly-impassible territory toward a new, unexplored destination, the excitement is furious. News travels fast in the waste, and soon raiders from nearby settlements have made the pilgrimage to Rho, hoping to ride the well-stoked, unstoppable leviathan to a treasure-trove of long-shuttered vaults of elder technology ripe for the taking. The locals are not necessarily taking this influx of new “citizens” to the Gasoline Docks well.

Neutral Ground: When two or more powerful war-bands of the waste must negotiate, the city of Rho often plays host to such parlay. If the PCs need to arrange a meeting with a dangerous & well-armed enemy, Rho can serve as the perfect odd & flavorful backdrop for an audience: the Gasoline Docks are made up of dozens of curious neighborhoods and districts, and the PCs should get a chance to explore the scum & villainy to their heart’s content ,,, and maybe get embroiled in local politics.

Theft from the Ancients: An up-&-coming gang out of the Gasoline Docks has an ambitious scheme: when the Halidom City next comes within a day’s motorcycle-ride of a building-sized technological oasis which serves as a crossroads between several small settlements, the gang means to steal it. Yes, the building. Armed with hover-skiffs, ropes, trucks, anti-grav plates, axes, welding equipment and explosives, the gang intends to lift the whole damn structure out of the ground and deliver it to back to Rho. They’ll need plenty of extra hands on-deck for a heist like this, for those with a mercenary bend.

Hired Help: The current High Clockwright and his twin sister are looking for something in the deep desert. Something old. Something valuable. Something they don’t want anyone in Clockside to know about. They have a few hints as to where this mysterious object might be found, somewhere out there in the wastes, but they can’t afford to send any of their private Kló Slátrunar clansmen to go poking around the radioactive dunes. That’s where the PCs, as outsiders to Rho, come in.

The Pillar of God’s Hunger: What the city of Rho wants, the city of Rho takes. A tiny farming-community built around a potent Halidom listening-device of the ancients calls for aide: the Nomad City is on the horizon, drawing nearer by the hour. When it sweeps close enough, Rho will very simply devour every last bit of the village: claiming food, livestock, water, building-material, human lives, stray technology, even the rich soil of the fields. The city cannot be stopped. Can the PCs evacuate the village & its mysterious treasures in time?

#Starfinder #GammaFinder #campaign #GM Advice #essay #npc

9 notes · View notes

moretreasurewithinarchive · 4 years

Text

The Valley of the Roses

This was a fairy tale I wrote 4 years ago, while part of a Narnia rp group. It was a writing prompt based on this picture.

The picture is by AquaSixio on Deviant Art, and can be found here. The original prompt can be found here. And my original story can be found here. The one below the cut is edited for clarity and hopefully better grammar.

Once upon a time, in a quaint and provincial little town at the base of a tall and treacherous mountain, there lived a young man. This young man was a knight who served his kingdom with bravery and wisdom. He was very much a favorite of the good king and queen, who always took his guidance to heart. This valiant young knight seemed to have the world at his feet. Yet, his heart was heavy and full of melancholy.

For it was while he was away, defending his kingdom from a wicked neighboring land, he received an urgent message that he must return home with haste. Upon arriving back, he found the girl he loved more than his own life had fallen very ill. Determined to do whatever it took to save her, the knight sought out the help of all the best doctors and magic workers in the kingdom. When they failed to heal the girl, he traveled the realm over hoping to find someone who could take the sickness away. None had been able to succeed, and he fell into despair. Every night, he would sit by her bedside with her hand clasped in his. And every night he would promise that all would be well; that he’d heard of yet another doctor or wizard who could work the miracle they so desperately needed. But the girl grew worse with every passing day. Both she and her knight knew that she was dying, but still he refused to give up his search for a cure.

Several months later, the king and queen noticed that their once lighthearted and vibrant friend had changed. No longer did he linger at the palace to talk. No longer did his stories fill the halls with laughter and awe. “We must find the cause for this change, and remedy it at once.” The king and queen decided, and called the knight to them.

Standing in the throne room before them, the knight’s head and shoulders hung heavy with their awful burden. Seeing for themselves the grave turn he’d taken, the king and queen implored him, “Please, o friend, won’t thou tell us the cause of thy suffering so that we may set it right again?”

By this time, however, even the knight was beginning to lose hope that he would ever be able to make his beloved well again. Yet, he was still a noble and good man; with no desire to trouble the king and queen with his woes. It was for this reason he’d never told them before. However, after much pressing and promises that they would do whatever it took to make the problem right, the knight broke down. The trust and loyalty he had so long shown the king and queen, they now gave back to him in abundance.

Tears pouring from his eyes, he confided at last in the king and queen. “The girl I love more than anything is very ill, majesties. I have searched so very long for a cure for her. I’ve brought all the best doctors and magicians in the realm to her, but none can ease her agony. Every day she grows worse and worse, and I fear she will soon die without a cure.”

Moved by his plight, and feeling their own hearts fill with sadness, the good king and queen at last understood. For they knew the girl well, and loved her as dearly as the knight himself. Stunned that he had not come to them sooner, the king and queen told him they might know what would save her life. Renewed by the discovery, the knight pleaded desperately for what they knew. “All know our kingdom is placed at the foot of the mountain,” They told him. “It is said that on the other side of the mountain, there is a valley of great magic, where sky and earth seem separated not. Where the stars shine so bright and so close, that if one were to reach out, they could pluck one right from the heavens. In this marvelous valley, it is said that for every person born in the realm, there grows a rose. The roses are said to be magic and kept safe under domes of sparkling diamond and the clearest glass. To heal her, thou must scale the mountain and go to the valley. Find her rose and remove the dome. Pluck out that which is sick and return with the healthy petals that grow in its place, and if she eats them, she will be saved.”

Hope filling his soul once more, the knight thanked the king and queen and ran out right away to prepare for the journey. He gathered his armor, sword, and shield, for the mountain was fraught with dangers beyond the wildest dreams. Stopping only to tell the girl he would return soon with a cure, he set off on his journey. When passing the castle, the king and queen met him at the gate with a small pouch. “It will help thee on thy way.” They told him. Wishing the knight luck, the king and queen watched him race toward the mountain.

As he reached the base, the knight looked up. How very tall it seemed now! How could he ever reach the top to get to the valley? But he knew he had to try. If he failed, the girl would die, and that was a fate he could not face. Tying the little pouch to the belt on which his sword hung at his waist, the knight began to climb. Slowly and carefully, he made his way up and up toward the top of the mountain. By the time he climbed a quarter of the way up, night had fallen, and knight knew he had to stop until dawn. Thankfully, the ground had leveled some, and he was able to search for a shelter for the night. Moments later, the knight found a cave and was able to build himself a fire.

Just as the knight grew weary and felt his eyes begin to close, a voice called out in anger, “Who is this that invades my cave?” Jumping to his feet with his hand upon his sword, the knight looked around. Much to his surprise, a gnarled little gnome appeared.

“Forgive me, little Gnome.” The knight implored, “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only to rest for the night.”

The gnome was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to imagine the sumptuous feast the knight would make; for none who dared enter his cave made it out alive. “Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than thy own meat, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the gnome, the knight was ready to fight the creature. But then he remembered the pouch. Opening it, the knight found right on the top a piece of meat with a note. ‘This meat has been enchanted by the court wizard so that it will never diminish in its bounty. Use it well.’ Pulling the morsel out, the knight offered it to the gnome. The glutinous creature took the meal and began to eat. Even after several minutes, when he did not run out of meat, the gnome was content and slunk back to his hole in the cavern wall. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to sleep, and he woke as the dawn rose for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By midday, he found himself half way up the mountain. Allowing himself a moment to rest against a boulder, the knight found himself quite famished. Knowing he had to find food to keep his strength up, he soon found a hallow tree that was full of honey. Helping himself to a few bites, the knight soon felt full. Yet, the moment he stepped away from the tree, a fierce growl rent the air as the earth thundered and quaked. Before the knight was able to run or draw his sword, he found himself facing a terrible black bear; the largest and meanest bear he’d ever set eyes on. “Who is this that steals my gold?” The bear demanded.

“Forgive me, great Bear,” The knight implored. “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only a morsel to satisfy my hunger.”

The bear was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to think of his precious golden honey and imagine how long it would take it replace that which the knight had eaten; for none who dared help themselves to his honey made it out alive. “Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than that gold thou have robbed me of, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the bear, he turned again to his pouch. Opening it, the knight found right on top a plate of ambrosia and a note. ‘This ambrosia came to our kingdom with a merchant from a far off land. It is said that none who catch it’s scent can deny themselves a sample. Use it well.’ Pulling the plate out, and holding his breath, the knight offered it to the bear. The greedy creature took a single sniff, and the moment the smell hit his nose, the bear began to scarf it down. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to slip away unnoticed and catch a moment’s rest for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By sunset, he found himself three quarters of the way up the mountain. Wiping the sweat from his brow, the knight took notice of how parched he was. Knowing he had to find water lest he faint, he soon found a small river with the clearest running water he’d ever beheld. Cupping his hands, the knight took a sip or two and soon felt his thirst quenched. Yet, the moment he rose, a terrible hissing and splashing rent the air as the river seemed to race with rage. Before the knight could act, he found himself facing an ugly and awful crocodile; the longest and strongest he’d ever set eyes on. “Who is this that drinks of my river?” The crocodile demanded.

“Forgive me, mighty Crocodile,” The Knight implored. “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only a small bit to quench my thirst.”

The crocodile was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to lament how there was now even less of the water for himself; for none who dared drink of his river made it out alive. "Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than my precious water, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the crocodile, he went to the pouch for the third time. Opening it, right on top the knight found a vial of nectar and a note. ‘This nectar is from the best of the castle gardens. Its roses are the sweetest smelling and make the most delicious juices. Use it well.’ Pulling the vial out, the knight offered it to the crocodile. Upon tasting the delectable sugars of the nectar, the crocodile sunk back to the depths of the river, never to be content with mere water again. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to cross the river and prepare for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the Knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By dark, he found himself at last at the peak. Overjoyed to see the valley below, the knight began to race forward, paying no mind to where his feet did trod. Yet, the moment he reached the edge, a soft and melodious voice filled the air. “Who is this that runs so carelessly and destroys my garden?” The voice demanded.

Turning, the knight found himself face to face with a young woman; the most beautiful he’d ever set eyes on. “Forgive me, my lady,” The knight implored, “I am on my way to the valley of the roses just below to bring a cure to my beloved, and only needed to hurry.”

The lady was hardly moved by his plea, but she was the clever witch who ruled the mountain; the most wicked of all the monsters the knight had met. She had decided to trick the knight into staying with her forever; for none who fell under her spell made it out alive. Pretending at once to pity the knight, the witch invited him inside her house for a glorious feast.

"Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But thou can hardly press on without first staying the night with me. Unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than thy company and beauty, the valley of the roses shall wait.” She answered, giving him a charming smile that would surely make him forget his quest.

But the knight was true to his word and could not forget his beloved back home. “Thy offer is most kind, Lady.” He said, and turned to his pouch for the last time. “I pray thou will take this gift with my thanks.” Opening it, the Knight found right on top a hand mirror and a note. ‘This mirror was from the queen’s collection. It is enchanted to make the gazer see whatever they wish to see. Use it well.’ Pulling the mirror out, the knight offered it to the witch. Upon seeing her own reflection in the mirror, the witch was put under her own spell and never wanted to behold anything but her lovely face again. With monster at bay, the knight was finally able to descend the mountain and reach the valley of the roses.

When at last the knight reached the valley, he froze in awe. It was just as the king and queen had said. The sky, colored vibrantly with purples, blues, and pinks, seemed to know no bounds. The grass and clouds appeared to touch, and the stars were just a reach away. And as as far as the eye could see, roses lay scattered about under clear domes of glass and diamond. Without a moment to lose, the knight began to search for the rose that was bound to his beloved. Dome after dome he checked. Some roses were just buds not yet in bloom. Others had already begun to wilt. How could he ever find the right one?

After searching for many many hours, at last he knelt before a rose that looked quite odd. Pink and fresh as the rest of the roses in their prime it was, but it seemed to wilt and turn black with death. This had to be it! Before the dome, the knight lifted it, ready to cut away the diseased parts and save his dear girl from certain death. Lifting his sword, he took a deep breath. But then, something began to change. All the parts of the rose that were pink began to turn black with the air! Horrified, he reached out to stop it. The moment his fingers touched the flower, it turned to ash and crumbled. “No! No!” The knight yelled in agony. “My child, I have failed you.”

Knowing that he had not made it in time to save his daughter’s life, the knight laid himself down next to the pile of ash and the dome. Unable to bear the pain of losing his whole world, he never moved again.

#Outofjourneys {Ooc}#Just Took A Hand {Headcanons}#Wild Rose That's Waiting For Me {Sadhbh}#Great Powers {Diarmaid & Lasairíona}#Sweeps Down To The Sea {Réaltán & Newry}#The Dark Mournes {Mourne Mountains}#All That I Found There {Valley Of The Roses}#Working By Day & By Night {Gnome}#Diggin For Gold {Bear}#Rest Of The Force {Crocodile}#Lovely Complexion {Witch}#Wonderful Sight {Likes}

5 notes · View notes

jeremystrele · 4 years

Text

10 Unmissable Art Exhibitions Of 2020

Art

by Sally Tabart

Henri Matisse – ‘The sorrow of the king (La tristesse du roi)’ , 1952. gouache on paper, cut and pasted, mounted on canvas. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Henri Matisse – ‘Blue nude II (Nu bleu II)’ 1952. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Henri Matisse – ‘Decorative figure on an ornamental ground (Figure décorative sur fond ornemental)’, 1925. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Matisse: Life & Spirit November 2020 – March 2021 Art Gallery of New South Wales, NSW

It’s no surprise that one of the most prestigious galleries in the country, Art Gallery of New South Wales (AGNSW) will show a dynamic exhibition from one of the most famous and influential artists of all time, Henri Matisse.

Exclusive to AGNSW, Matisse: life & spirit, masterpieces from the Centre Pompidou will show over 100 works spanning six decades from the French master.

Developed alongside the Centre Pompidou in Paris, known for its unmatched collection of Matisse works, Matisse: life & spirit will be the greatest single exhibition of Matisse masterworks ever to be seen in Sydney. Yep – you’ll be able to see his famed cut-outs, but also his adventures in paintings, sculptures, and drawings, tracking the vast and varied exploration of his artistic career. This is TRULY unmissable!

Left to right: Dhuwarrwarr Marika Makassan, swords and long knives, Carlene Thompson, Kipara and Kalaya. Photo – courtesy of MAGNT.

Telstra National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards (NATSIAA) August 8th 2020 – January 31st 2021 Museum and Art Gallery Northern Territory, NT

Now in its 36th year, the Telstra National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards (NATSIAA) is a major highlight for the Museum and Art Gallery of Northern Territory (MAGNT) in Darwin. This fantastic exhibition spotlights emerging and established Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists across a varying range of mediums, and attracts more than 85,000 visitors.

This exhibition is so important for visitors to gain an insight into First Nations People’s perspective in both contemporary interpretations, as well as those steeped in generations of tradition. It also offers some prize money of up to $50,000 for winning artists, courtesy of longtime sponsor Telstra. All finalists’ work will be displayed in the world-class exhibition, opening in August.

Left: Mikala Dwyer: a shape of thought featuring The Angel; Possession; Sigil for Heaven and Earth by Mikala Dwyer, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney, 2017. Photo – Mim Stirling. Right: Julia Robinson, Australia, 1981, Beatrice, 2019–20.

Adelaide Biennial of Australian Art February 29th – June 8th 2020 Art Gallery South Australia, SA

This year the Art Gallery of South Australia welcomes the hugely popular Adelaide Biennial of Australian Art back for its 30th year. Known for its risk-taking and expansive vision, the Biennial welcomes the wild, wacky, weird and wonderful.

The theme of the 2020 iteration is Monster Theatres, inviting artists to bring to life the ‘monsters’ of today. As described by curator Leigh Robb, ‘Monsters ask us to interrogate our relationships with each other, the environment and technology. They force us to question our empathy towards differences across race, gender, sexuality and spirituality.’

Artists involved in the Biennial include Abdul Abdullah, Polly Borland, Yhonnie Scarce + many more!

Olafur Eliasson, Riverbed 2014. Photo – Natasha Harth, QAGOMA.

Water December 7th 2019 – April 26th 2020 Gallery of Modern Art, QLD

Brisbane’s Gallery of Modern Art never fails to disappoint with its innovative, world-class programming – and Water is no exception! Exploring the theme of, you guessed it, Water, this exhibition explores this vital element from the perspective of artists around the world.

Here is some of what you can expect, according to GOMA:

‘Walk across a vast, rocky riverbed created by Olafur Eliasson. See animals from around the world gather together to drink from Cai Guo-Qiang’s brilliant blue waterhole. Gaze at Peter Fischli and David Weiss’s snowman frozen in Brisbane’s summer heat. Traverse a cloud of suspended gymnastic rings in a participatory artwork by William Forsythe. View the tidal currents rise and fall around Angela Tiatia. Reflect on the cultural traditions of bodies of water with Judy Watson, and on the long history of our reliance on water through Megan Cope’s re-created midden.’

Left to Right: Photo by Beth Wilkinson for Lindsay. Stanislava Pinchuk, ‘Topography : Topsoil Storage II, Fukushima Nuclear Exclusion Zone.’ Pin-holes on paper, 2017. Image courtesy of the artist. Photo – Matthew R. Stanton. Stanislava Pinchuk, ‘Topography : The Road to the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Plant’. Pin-holes on paper, 2017. Photo – Matthew R. Stanton.

Stanislava Pinchuk June 27th – October 4th 2020 Heide Museum of Modern Art, VIC

Stanislava Pinchuk (also known by her pseudonym, Miso) has emerged as one of Australia’s intriguing contemporary artists in the last decade. The Ukranian-born, Melbourne-based artist captures the changing topographies of war and conflict zones through data mapping, making tiny, individual pin pricks to realise these patterns – an incredibly labour-intensive and mentally and physically draining process that appears effortless, and beautiful.

This major exhibition at Heide Museum of Modern Art in Melbourne will feature a survey of Stanislava’s most powerful pinprick projects from the past five years, accompanied by terrazzo-like sculptures comprised of pieces of debris left behind in conflict zones.

Know My Name: Australian Women Artists 1900 to Now May 30th – September 13th 2020 National Gallery of Australia, ACT

The National Gallery of Australia (NGA) celebrates its ongoing initiative to increase representation of artists who identify as women with Know My Name: Australian Women Artists 1900 to Now.

Drawing on works from the National Gallery’s own collection, as well as others from across Australia, Know My Name showcases the work of lesser-known artists alongside Australian greats from different times, places and cultures.

As part of the broader Know My Name initiative, a new commission by the Tjanpi Desert Weavers will be on display at the National Gallery. Patricia Piccinini’s iconic Skywhale (2013) will also see its new counterpart, Skywhalepapa (2020) ascend over Canberra on its maiden voyage, travelling alongside Skywhale eight times during the exhibition period.

Left: Pierre Bonnard – French 1867–1947 The dining room in the country, 1913. Right: India Mahdavi (designer). Jardin d’intérieur – collection for La Manufacture de Cogolin. Images courtesy of the NGV.

Pierre Bonnard designed by India Mahdavi June 5th – October 4th 2020 National Gallery of Victoria

While Sydney-siders enjoy the masterful works of Henri Matisse, Melbournites won’t miss out on the opportunity to experience an incredible exhibition of another beloved French painter! The exquisite works of Pierre Bonnard will be on show at the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) for their major winter showcase, a kaleidoscopic exhibition of 150 works from the painter with a fondness for domestic scenes and rural life. Pierre Bonnard has been developed in partnership with Musee d’Orsay in Paris.

Described by Matisse, a close friend of Bonnard’s, as ‘a great painter, for today and definitely also for the future’, this groundbreaking exhibition spans paintings, drawings, photographs, folding screens and early cinema, depicting scenes of modern 20th century France in bright, vivid colours.

Aside from the opportunity to see one of the works of this beloved painter, what makes this exhibition absolutely unmissable is the design of the show itself. Iranian Paris-based designer India Mahdavi (the interiors genius behind the iconic pink Gallery at Sketch restaurant in London) has been commissioned by the NGV to bring Bonnard’s extraordinary works to life, elegantly balancing historical references with contemporary culture in an immersive experience.

22nd Biennale of Sydney, NIRIN November 8th 2020 – 16th February 2021 Various locations, NSW

First held in 1973 as part of the opening celebrations of the Sydney Opera House, the Biennale of Sydney is now in its 22nd year and is one of Australia’s blockbuster contemporary art events.

Taking place across six major sites – Art Gallery of New South Wales, Artspace, Campbelltown Arts Centre, Cockatoo Island, Museum of Contemporary Art Australia and the National Art School – the Biennale of Sydney will see 94 artists from 47 countries

Under the guidance of multidisciplinary artist and this year’s Biennale Artistic Director Brook Andrew, the 12-week exhibition is titled NIRIN, meaning ‘edge’ in Brook’s mother’s Nation – the Wiradjuri people of western New South Wales. He says, ‘Optimism from chaos drives artists in NIRIN to resolve the often hidden or ignored urgency surrounding contemporary life.’

Carriageworks Commissions Rebecca Baumann: Radiant Flux, January 8th – June 14th Reko Rennie: REMEMBER ME, January 2020 – January 2021 Kate Mitchell: All Auras Touch, January 8th – March 1st Daniel Boyd: Video Works, January 8th – March 1st

Australia’s largest multi-arts centre, Carriageworks, has been home to some pretty major large-scale installation commissions in its time (who could forget German artist Katherina Grosse’s otherworldly technicoloured universe in 2018?). This summer, four new site-specific commissions from leading Australian artists Rebecca Baumann, Daniel Boyd, Kate Mitchell and Reko Rennie have taken residence in the epic historical space.

Spanning over 100-metres, Rebecca Baumann’s Radiant Flux sees every glass surface of the building’s exterior covered in a film that changes colour at every angle, flooding the space with kaleidoscopic light that will never be the same twice.

A study in human energy, All Aurus Touch by Kate Mitchell captures an aura portrait for each of the 1,023 census-recognised occupations.

Video Works by Kudjala/Gangalu artist Daniel Boyd features three major video installations, where gallery walls will be mapped with the artist’s otherworldly, infinite cosmos.

Interdisciplinary Kamilaroi artist Reko Rennie references the massacre of First Nations people in Remember Me, a massive illuminated sign that will remain on display for the whole of 2020, the year marking the 250th anniversary of Captain Cook’s first landfall.

Installation view of the Archibald, Wynne and Sulman Prizes 2019 exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney. Photo: AGNSW.

Archibald, Wynne & Sulman Prizes May 9th – September 6th 2020 Art Gallery of New South Wales, NSW

The Archibald, Wynne & Sulman Prizes are some of the most prestigious and highly anticipated art events in the country. Since its inception in 1921, The Archibald Prize the most well-known of the three awards celebrates paintings of notable figures that reflect Australian culture across areas including art, media, entertainment, politics, sports and more. The works are always a great capsule to represent Australian culture of the moment.

Finalists for the Archibald (portrait), Wynne (landscape/scenery) and Sulman (genre/subject) are shown in an exhibition that starts at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and tours at select galleries around Australia for the remainder of the year.

1 note · View note