Need some motiv-ocean to leap into the weekend? You got this!
Leaping blennies are amazing amphibious fish. They can launch themselves off rocks and into the air sometimes up to 50 times their body length. Not only do they flash their red dorsal fins to communicate, but they can also live on land temporarily in tidepools and rocky coasts.Â
These extraordinary terrestrial fish shore do know how to make a splash, both in and outside the water!
Headcanon: Many populations in AramĂĄn have some variant of a legend of "The Tooth Fairy" who magically visits every child who lost a tooth that day, no matter how many or how farflung they are. And many of their children faithfully put their lost teeth under their pillows and wake up to find it replaced by a coin, stealthily swapped out by the adults who know that is just an old story/bit of whimsy and quite impossible in reality.
Except... tooth fairies (a type of fae, not a singular entity) do exist in AramĂĄn, and they do collect teeth and leave various small valuables in return. It's just that they're as limited in speed of travel as any other beings (especially since the Shapers War and difficulties with magical travel), so you're only likely to be visited by one if you lose your tooth close to where tooth fairies live. Those areas were scarce enough before the gates to Faerie closed, and now the few remaining pockets shrink ever further away from the dangers of close contact with the other species of AramĂĄn.
...With the notable exception of the Golden Orchard.
Which will set up the Seekers for a very unexpected conversation someday when one of them gets a tooth knocked out in a fight, and they find that Sir Julien Davinos is determined to find the stray tooth once the fight is over because how else are you going to trade it to the tooth fairy? Of course it has to be traded to a tooth fairy. That is what one does with lost teeth. It does no one any good to just leave them to rot in the dirt. (He did formally waive collection for one of his when he was thirteen and tipped the fairy a silver in recompense for the trouble, but that was to keep it for a specific purpose, not just wasting it.)
Thaisha and Hal kept up the Tooth Fairy ruse when their kids were young, and Occtis has only ever been aware of it as a lie told to other children, since his family disdained the whole concept. (This is the first Vaelus has heard of the idea, period.) Both of them are desperately trying figure out, without provoking a fight, whether Julien knows something they don't, if he somehow made it well into adulthood without catching on, or if this whole thing is just an elaborate prank on his part.
âš What are they actually stealing and WHY. money is boring unless there's a specific reason they need that exact amount. magical artifact? information? person? the declaration of independence? make it interesting and personal
âš Who planned this thing. because the planner is usually not the leader and that creates tension. is the plan genius or are they just winging it and pretending they know what they're doing
âš What's everyone's role. you need: the mastermind, the muscle, the hacker/magic user, the conman, the thief, the driver/getaway person, the inside person, the wildcard who's chaos incarnate. everyone has a job and also a reason they can't just be replaced
âš How did this crew even form. old friends? recruited specifically for this job? forced together by circumstances? some of them hate each other but need each other's skills?
âš What's the target. museum? casino? palace? dragon's hoard? corporation? secure facility that's supposed to be impossible to break into (it's not but it's close)
âš What's the security like. guards, cameras, magic wards, traps, locks that require specific keys, biometrics, creatures guarding it, all of the above. make it seem genuinely difficult
âš What's the timeline. do they have weeks to prepare or is this a "we have 48 hours" situation. rushed heists are messier and more fun
âš What's everyone's motivation. money obviously but also: revenge, saving someone, clearing their name, thrill seeking, blackmail, ideological reasons, debt. mixed motivations create the best conflict
âš Is there a traitor. there's usually a traitor. or at least someone with a secret agenda that contradicts the group's goals. trust issues everywhere
âš What's the escape plan. because getting in is only half of it. how do they get out without getting caught or killed. what if the escape plan fails (it will)
âš What can go wrong. everything. something WILL go wrong. alarm gets tripped early, guard that wasn't supposed to be there, someone gets injured, the thing they're stealing isn't where it should be, betrayal. plan B time
âš What are the consequences if they fail. prison? death? worse? are there people threatening their families? debts they can't pay? this raises the stakes
âš How much prep/planning do you show. the planning montage is iconic but don't make it boring. show the research, the practice runs, the moments they realize how screwed they might be
âš Is this crew's first job together or have they done this before. experienced crews have history and inside jokes and old grudges. new crews don't trust each other yet
âš What's the moral line. are they robin hood types stealing from the evil rich? morally gray criminals? fully selfish? do they have rules about collateral damage?
âš How do they split the take. equally? based on contribution? does the mastermind get more? is someone getting shortchanged? money ruins friendships
I've wanted to do something with this general shape for awhile, and finally figured out how I wanted to approach it - intertwined rainbow gradients. Blackwork embroidery on 14-count Aida cloth.
Getting a drink of water is one of those things Iâd like to say I could do in my sleep, but ironically that was not the case tonight. The water bottle on the bedside table was usually trustworthy. Sometimes you just fumble the basics, though, and this time I fumbled it right onto the bed. Soaked the blanket and my favorite pajamas too.Â
I grumbled and complained about it, hurrying to grab the bottle and pull the blanket off before it seeped further. The sheets were dry, thankfully. I piled everything wet on the floor, turned on my dim reading lamp, and got new pajamas.Â
I complained thoroughly and creatively, but Telly wasnât there to flick an ear about it. She didnât even peek her head in through the little door in the cat ramp near the ceiling, so she must have been elsewhere on the ship. Probably just as well. I would have felt bad if Iâd spilled water on her too.Â
Though, to be fair, she was the reason my spare blanket was waiting to be washed instead of ready to throw on the bed and go back to sleep. The dang thing stank of seafood, because my darling feline had apparently managed to steal more of Blip and Blopâs favorite shrimp sticks and eat them on the bed.
Great, choice, cat, I thought as I gathered up both blankets and my wet clothes. Spectacular choices all around. I should probably talk to the twins about where they were keeping those, since she had been really chowing down in the last couple days.
Iâd ask in the morning, though. For now, I grabbed the empty water bottle and bundled my armload of cloth out into the quiet spaceship hallway, padding along on bare feet while reflecting that it was good the cleaning station was quiet. I didnât want to wake anybody up.Â
Nighttime on this ship was a vague concept, since the various species onboard all needed slightly different amounts of sleep, and the individuals involved were adults who sometimes made the choice to stay up stupid late watching entertainment media in their quarters. What with some of us up late and others waking early, there was really a short span of time when everyone was asleep at once.
Everyone except the pilot on duty, of course. Kavlae had explained at one point that there was a medical scanning field in the cockpit to make sure there was at least one person awake in one of the two seats. If the only person there fell asleep, they would be subject to an unpleasant alarm and the attentions of both the captain and the medic, who would also be woken up.
According to Kavlae, that had only happened once on this ship. Her smug tone told me that it had been Wio in trouble, not her.
No alarms sounded now as I walked down the hallway. The only sounds were the faint engine hum and the hush of cycling air, along with faint noises through the walls from someoneâs quarters. Probably a few of us were awake, though you wouldnât know it from the hall.
The medbay was dark and the door closed. The cleaning alcove next to it was as well. I opened it and stuffed my armload into the cleaner, thinking not for the first time that I was glad I didnât have to go through the medbay to reach it. I would have felt like apologizing to Eggskin for getting in the way with my stinky human clothes all the time.
The only clothes that Eggskin and the other Heatseekers wore were the occasional coat or vest just for the pockets, and maybe a heat shawl when leaving the ship. Coldblooded people have no use for things that reflect back the body heat they donât have. Which meant I was in the minority about the amount of laundry I had to do.
The Frillians wore regular clothes too (well, mostly regular given Blip and Blopâs fashion sense; Kavlaeâs was fine), but still. Doing laundry in the middle of the night was actually a nice change from feeling like I had to justify myself for dragging my laundry bin through the halls. Other people washed towels and whatnot, though it really wasnât the same.
I set the cleaning cycle and headed for the kitchen to refill the water bottle. Maybe Iâd look for shrimp stick packaging in much-too-accessible places while I was at it.
To my mild surprise, green tentacles clung to the edges of an open cabinet while rummaging noises sounded from inside.
âNeed any help?â I asked as I moved to fill my water bottle.
âWhat?â asked Mimiâs gruff voice from deep in the cabinet. A moment later, his round face popped out to blink at me. âOh, hi. I donât suppose youâve seen the new tub of protein poppers? I could have sworn it was back here.â
âThe eel scented ones? I think theyâre up higher.â I pointed to a different cabinet, and he immediately climbed up to peer inside.
âYup, there they are. Obnoxious place to put them.â He pulled out a plastic tub full of lumpy reddish things that sparkled like theyâd been dusted with powdered fish scales. âThese should be easier to reach.â
âMaybe Blip and Blop moved them so Telly wouldnât be tempted,â I said as I finished filling my bottle. âI doubt sheâd be able to gnaw that open, but thatâs not to say she wouldnât try.â
Mimi shut the cabinet door with a snap of gravity-failure-proof magnets. âCan she get these open?â he asked with a flip of a tentacle. âI would think that even floor level would be safe.â
I wiped stray water drops off the bottle. âI havenât seen her do it, but I wouldnât rule it out entirely.â
âGreat. Well, Iâll be sure to keep the door to the engine room shut,â Mimi said. âHave a nice night.â He tentacle-walked out of the kitchen, back toward the engine room where heâd probably be either doing random maintenance in the middle of the night, or watching more of the comedy show heâd been laughing so hard about last time Eggskin sent me to bring him lunch.
âGoodnight,â I said. I thought about getting a midnight snack too, but decided against it and went back to check the cleanerâs progress. Not too much time left.
For lack of anything better to do, I followed faint sounds down the hallway to see who else was awake.
The sounds were coming from the cockpit, which wasnât a surprise. The sounds in question were a series of regular thumps, which was.
I stopped in the doorway to see Wio in her chair, blue-ringed tentacles doing her usual fidgets while she stared off to the side of all the screens.
To my right, something thumped. I was startled to see Telly make another run up the wall, chasing a familiar little red dot. Yes, that was a laser pointer held in one of Wioâs tentacles.
âHello,â I said automatically.
âOh hey there!â Wio said with a smile. âSheâs really good at this. Itâs like she has her own little gravity pack, with how high she can go.â
âYep, cats are masters of reaching places you wouldnât expect. Especially if thereâs something to chase.â The red dot was still moving, with Telly still chasing it for another mad dash up the wall, and now I spotted the little narrow thing stuck to the wall up high. âWhatâs that?â
âShrimp stick,â Wio said, highlighting it with the dot. âStuck it up there with mollusk paste, which Eggskin says is fine for her. Enrichment!â
My mouth fell open. âYouâre why my bed smells like fish!â
âWhat?â
Before I could explain or ask her to stop, the red dot landed on the shrimp stick and Telly snatched it off the wall like the triumphant predator she was.
Wio said, âOh, great jump! What do you mean, though?â
Telly landed with another thump and dodged my attempts to grab her as she flashed out of the room, stinky treasure held in her jaws.
âSheâs eating those on my bed!â I exclaimed, dashing out after her. If Telly got it all over the sheets, Iâd just have to do more laundry.
âSorry!â Wio called after me, laughter in her voice.
Instead of heading toward my room, Telly had gone the other way â oh right, to the nearest entrance to the cat tube. I dithered a moment. Maybe sheâd eat in the kitchen instead. Probably not. The laundry dinged.
Telly galloped by overhead, in the clear tube that would lead her right into my room. I took off on my bare feet, hoping to beat her there.
Behind me, I heard Wio start up a documentary about cats that I knew to be wildly inaccurate. Iâd find a better one to recommend for her, but later. That was several things down the to-do list for tonight.
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! Thereâs even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadnât thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but theyâre too much fun to leave out of the second).
This is one of the scariest things Iâve ever done! Putting myself out there and asking for things is HARD, and I genuinely donât know if thereâs enough interest in this for it to be viable.
BUT shy bairns get nowt and all that, and if there is enough support and this does work out, then itâs a chance to do something really exciting. Very few people have had a properly fitted suit of historical plate to test with, and even fewer of them have an audience of this size to share their findings with. And while I may not be the best person for the job, Iâm the only person that I am.
SO, if you want to see how far I can push movement in plate armour, or how many fantasy tropes I can recreate; if you want to see the process of making and fitting a full suit, and learn more about historical craftsmanship; OR if you want to watch a goofy goober pole dancing and attempting gymnastics in a clanky tin suit, with lots of failure along the way, please support this project.
Thereâs no way I can do it on my own, but if enough people chip in, thereâs a chance!
And if you canât or donât want to contribute, donât worry about it! Iâll still be here making my usual content either way!
The provisional cast on lets you cast on stitches that you can undo later to reveal live stitches:
𧜠Using a crochet hook and scrap yarn, make a couple of chains and then start casting stitches on the knitting needle as shown. Make an extra chain or two at the end.
𧜠Start #knitting with your proper yarn
𧜠Undo the cast on and transfer the stitches onto a knitting needle
Long-tail cast-on and basics My go-to cast-on method is the long-tail cast-on. I prefer to start without a slipknot. Do not make the stitche
Thaisha, finally back in Dol-Makjar: Look at this. Amazing. No sparrow swords. No getting chased by sky ghouls in an eagle carriage. No corpses devoured by spectral nightingales. No half-dying through a trauma parade in Bird Hell. No one is birds here. It's all behind us.
Soldiers: What's up, we're calling ourselves the Fanged Falcons :)
Thaisha: no
Schemers: What a coincidence, our network is a Mischief of Magpies. A Tiding of Magpies to friends :)
I held the box while Paint greeted the client. âGood morning! I must say, you have lovely weather here.â Her orange scales shone in the sun, and if we hadnât been busy making a delivery, she probably would have been searching out a nice flat rock to lie on.
The client standing in the doorway just looked tired. âThanks,â he said. âWeâve worked hard to make it nice. Many years of terraforming.â He took the payment tablet that Paint offered with his own blue-furred hands, moving with all the enthusiasm of an exotic alien beaver who hadnât had coffee yet.
âWell youâve done a great job,â Paint said firmly, looking around at the lush greenery that surrounded the building. âI hope you can enjoy these waterspheres with a sense of accomplishment.â She took the tablet back and turned towards me.
I held out the box, which was reasonably heavy on account of all the water. âWhere would you like it?â
âJust stick it on the table,â the client said, pointing out at something near my knees that could charitably be called a table. It had tools strewn across it and a cabinet above. He added, âI want to put some in there before stocking the rest.â A glance back at him showed me that he was pointing at the cabinet.
âRighto.â I stepped aside and set it down, glad to be done carrying its slightly wobbly weight. âCareful opening it. Itâs pretty heavy; I think they filled it all the way to the top.â
âGood to know,â he said. Without further ado, he waddled over and peeled back the label to unfasten a catch that made the lid pop free, which he set aside with the ease of someone who had gotten many things mailed in. The box was full of bags, not individual waterspheres (thankfully), but it was definitely very full. Lots and lots of little grape-sized balls of hard water with regular water inside.
âThat ought to last you a while,â I said.
âTheyâre not for me,â he muttered with a look back into the building.
âNo?â I asked.
âCoworkerâs been sick,â he said, staring down at the waterspheres. âAnd heâs bad at it. Old codger whoâs been working out here since it was a lifeless floodplain, caring for everything but himself. Idiotâs going to pass out from dehydration again.â
Paint asked, âAgain?â with her scaly hands clasped in concern.
âYes, again. I told him I can get both our workloads done; Iâm handling it; and heâd get better faster if heâd drink his fluids and rest, but of course not.â The Rivershaper ran frustrated fingers through his arm fur in much the way a human might tug their own hair. âIf he doesnât find these interesting enough to eat-drink on purpose, Iâm going to have to call in a visit from the company medic, and neither of us will enjoy that.â
Aiming for optimism, I said, âWaterspheres are pretty fun. Did you get plain ones, or flavored?â
âPlain. The tailbiter would probably just complain about the flavors on principle. The only thing he actually admits to liking are my fish twists.â He opened the cabinet and scowled when he found it empty. âHe took these ones too! That dirt-breathing dryfur!â
Paint said, âOh dear,â which wasnât exactly helpful, but certainly felt appropriate.
I asked, âIs it the flavor he likes? Iâm pretty sure you can get fishy water; it just costs more.â
But the Rivershaper shook his head. âNo, at this point heâs just being a splinter and taking my stuff because Iâve been on his case so much. As if I like doing double work while he drags this out.â He ground his gnawing teeth in irritation.
Paint asked, âCan you sit him down and have an honest conversation about it?â
At the same time, I asked, âWhat if you let him steal these on purpose?â
The client ignored Paint and looked at me. âHow do you mean? Theyâre just water.â
âWhat if he thought they were fancy water?â I suggested. âAn exotic treat that you got for yourself and didnât plan on sharing? Not that Iâm saying you should lie to your coworker, of course, but if he got the impression that these have some delicate flavor that people who are sick generally canât even appreciateâŚâ
The Rivershaperâs sour expression turned into a smirk. âThink youâre onto something there. Heâs stubborn enough to keep trying them until he can taste it, too.â
âOoh!â Paint said. âThen you can order some of the flavored ones!â
He huffed a tired laugh. âI might just do that. Itâs a better plan than I had. All right.â He pulled out three small bags of spheres and placed them in the cabinet, making sure to shut it with a loud snap. Then he hefted the rest of the box. âWell, off to put these away conspicuously. Maybe Iâll get called away on urgent matters before I can finish. Who knows what might happen?â
I made space for him to walk back inside. âBest of luck!â
Paint added, âAnd you know where to find us if you need more!â
âThat I do; thanks.â He bid us goodbye and closed the door, looking a little less tired already.
Paint was beaming on the way back to the ship, smiling in conspicuous silence so she didnât talk about it and give things away, just in case a certain local curmudgeon was in earshot.
Just before we walked through our own doorway, on the landing pad down at the end of the driveway, I looked back and caught a glimpse of an arm reaching from the front door.
It had paler blue fur, and was the kind of scrawny that fit my mental image of a crotchety old man whoâd been working the land for decades. It opened the cabinet, grabbed one of the bags, then disappeared in a flash.
I smiled quietly, and didnât tell Paint about it until the door was closed behind us.
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! Thereâs even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadnât thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but theyâre too much fun to leave out of the second).
Look I know the whole âJulien was twelve at a time before the door to faery closedâ was almost certainly an improv error but in my heart I want it to be true because what does that mean about the Falconerâs Rebellion.
Azuneâs speech about how he remembers what really happened the day Thjazi was captured is because Azune watched a feral ten-year-old raised with the likes of Thimble stab Thjazi in the kneecaps and everyone on both sides collectively decided to make the battle sound more impressive because damn. It makes all of them look bad.
sometimes depression is so scary because you stop being able to achieve any sense of fulfilment. a huge part of being human is looking forward to things and having treats, goals, rewards, outcomes that you strive towards. if you donât have those things it can be really, really hard to find any sense of purpose. having depression is asking yourself what do i want to eat, what do i want to watch, what do i want to play, what do i want to listen to, what do i want to do, what am i looking forward to, whatâs driving me to keep going, and having the answer be a resounding ânothingâ
Iâm kinda surprised that nalbinding isnât as popular as crochet and knitting tbh because it has an even lower barrier of entry tools wise and unlike crochet and knitting it makes fabric that you can cut.
I guess itâs because itâs slower or something.
I feel like part of it might be casual people are generally aware of the existence of crochet and knitting, even if they donât know very much about either, but have never heard of nalbinding
Yeah I hadnât heard of it until recently and I ordered a big bone needle for myself to try it out and that should be arriving soon.
I was surprised that Iâd never heard of it though. Itâs older than knitting and crocheting and even though itâs been done all over the world itâs super relevant to Nordic culture and my grandmother and I are both into keeping in touch with our roots a bit so Iâm surprised Iâve never heard of it.
It seems like the sort of thing that would be popular even if not as popular as crocheting and knitting, considering the low barrier of entry.
You also donât need a bunch of different sized needles for nalbinding or whatever. The size of the stitch is controlled either completely freehand or by pulling it against one of your fingers. Most people who have a lot of nalbinding needles seem to either have tried out wood, bone, and metal ones to see which kind they liked or they enjoy carving wood or bone and like making their own needles as an extra hobby.
Itâs also a lot easier to freehand and adjust as you go than crochet or knitting and you mostly go by inches instead of rows and number of stitches so a large number of accessories like stitch markers or whatever isnât really necessary.
Maybe the lack of accessories also makes it unpopular idk. People do like collecting things in their nests.
I've been wanting to do so, I cannot find anyone who can teach me, and any books I can find on it are Ass in the Visual Learning department. Otherwise I'd be making the hell outta some nalbinded fabric
I thought this would be kind of a niche post to make but I was quickly reminded that Iâm on tumblr, the website full of gay people with one billion hobbies.
So my bone needle actually came this evening (yay!) and Iâve started trying this for real. It clicks in my brain way easier than crochet does. Iâve gotta work up the muscle memory but I think I can do this.
The downside as a beginner is that undoing mistakes is more time consuming than with knitting or crochet. Youâve gotta like sew your mistakes out backwards. Disadvantages of making a really sturdy fabric I guess.
I like the feel of this bone needle though and donât think Iâll be trying the wooden or metal ones.
Also I think Iâm gonna have to get good at doing Russian joining if I decide to get good at nalbinding because I donât have wool yarn and the ends wonât felt together if itâs not at least 50% wool. A small price to pay for using big bone needle though.
I really like that Azune is the one to ask Bolaire whether heâs a thing, or a person, and that his follow-up to âthingâ isnât insisting that Bolaire is a person, but rather asking if he canât be both. Â
I think largely, everyone else is defaulting to their own base opinions on this without directly talking to Bolaire about it, with Hal and Murray considering him first as a person, treating him as such (though with justified suspicion in Halâs part) and at first struggling to even understand Bolaire is saying heâs a mask. Meanwhile, if Bolaireâs word can be believed, Thjazi jumps to considering him a thing, and treats him unjustly based on it (thereâs a whole essay somewhere in there about how Thjazi and Bolaire both define themselves as a story but this isnât it).Â
I donât think Bolaire being a person or treating him as one is wrong, exactly (despite his own denial of his personhood), but it does ignore aspects of his lived experience and sense of self.Â
Azune, though, has experience with being both a thing, and a person. A mercenary, a soldier, and a spy are all roles of utility; of being a weapon. They mean pushing down the âpersonâ parts of you that are saying âIâm scared, Iâm hurt, I donât want toâ and saying âNo- Iâm a soldier.â Basically, you force yourself into the narrative of what you need to do. You are the role- the tool- over the person.Â
I donât think Thjazi or the Torn Banner actively tried to dehumanize Azune- though I definitely think the environment wasnât *great* for that; in war, youâre often going to be looking at people as their utility.Â
But beyond even the war itself, we see a lot of Azune treating himself as a tool. âIâll do whatever it takesâ is a shade off from âIâll be whatever it takesâ. Later in life, we see Azune doing undercover work as an Arcane Marshall. Itâs something he clearly feels a disconnection from (a la Luis explaining that he had never thought too much about his subordinates and his role there, since it was an acted part for Thjaziâs sake). Most of his life then is spent in a metaphorical mask.Â
So Azune is set up to understand the disparity of being both a tool and a person, but struggles a bit perhaps with Bolaireâs choice of âthingâ and rejection of âbothâ (âMaybeâ isnât exactly a ringing endorsement). He gets âbothâ. He doesnât get the story being better than being the person. His âbeing a storyâ isnât positive. It isnât a narrative he likes. Itâs being a tool for a cause and getting brief breaks to be a person again.Â
âIs being a story better than being a person?â is a question that means *very* different things to these two characters.Â
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