Random blog

I'm just a Wyvern cruising her way through Tumblr, nothin' really to see. Apart from random bits of art.

[thecollectibles]

Art by Lestoidea 蟌

[epiales06]

The only reason why transphobes always ask “what is a woman” instead of “what is a man” is because we all know that a man is a featherless biped.

[epiales06]

It’s 2023, women can have as many legs and feathers as they want- get with the times.

[hux-loves-him]

Behold! A woman!

[doncdesole]

for the folks in my inbox, I have food for you. There is more on the way...

enjoy ~

[ikimaru]

accidental double date!

[marinella-ela]

[erisivy]

They really allowed this

[thistlerock]

They so truly need to fuck abt it

Brennan has decided that Torse is really locked in on Maxwell and it just reads as him being madly in love with the guy, sad dog style. Honestly Maxwell might not be aware of this at all he does have comparatively low wisdom but Torse is DEVOTED.

[madddscience]

An interesting sci-fi short story from 4chan.

[Imgur]

[the-real-seebs]

That is some fine writing.

[space-australians]

The Imgur link is broken so:

[Series of posts on 09/16/11]

About twelve years ago, a man died in high orbit over Tau Ceti V.

His name was Drake McDougal, and aside from a few snapshots and vague anecdotes from his drinking buddies, that’s probably all we’ll ever know about him. Another colony-born man with little records and little documentation, working whatever asteroid field the Dracs deigned to allow them. Every now and then a Drac gunship would strut on through the system, Pax Draconia and all that. But that was it.

One fine day, one of those gunships had a misjump. A bad one. It arrived only ninety clicks above atmo, with all its impellers blown out by the gravatic feedback of Tau Ceti V’s gravity well. The Dracs scraped enough power together for a good system-wide broadbeam and were already beginning the Death Chant when they hit atmo.

People laughed at the recording of sixty Dracs going from mysterious chanting to “’what-the-fuck’ing” for years after they forgot the name Drake McDougal. The deafening “CLANG” and split second of stunned silence afterwards never failed to entertain. Drake had performed a hasty re-entry seconds after the gunship and partially slagged his heatshield diving after it. Experts later calculated he suffered 11Gs when he leaned on the retro to match velocities with the Dracs long enough to engage the mag-grapples on his little mining tug.

Even the massively overpowered drive of a tug has its limits, and Drake’s little ship hit hers about one and a half minutes later. Pushed too far, the tug’s fusion plant lost containment just as he finished slingshotting the gunship into low orbit. (It was unharmed, of course; the Drac opinion of fusion power best translated as “quaint,” kind of how we view butter churns.)

It was on the local news within hours, on newsnets across human space within days. It was discussed, memorialized, marveled upon, chewed over by daytime talk-show hosts, and I think somebody even bought a plaque or some shit like that. Then there was a freighter accident, and a mass-shooting on Orbital 5, and of course, the first Vandal attacks in the periphery.

The galaxy moved on.

Twelve years is a long time, especially during war, so twelve years later, as the Vandal’s main fleet was jumping in near Jupiter and we were strapping into the crash couches of what wee enthusiastically called “warships,” I guaran-fucking-tee you not one man in the entire Defense Force could remember who Drake McDougal was.

Well, the Dracs sure as hell did.

Dracs do not fuck around. Dozens of two-kilometer long Drac supercaps jumped in barely 90K klicks away, and then we just stood around staring at our displays like the slack-jawed apes we were as we watched what a real can of galactic whoop-ass looked like. You could actually see the atmosphere of Jupiter roil occasionally when a Vandal ship happened to cross between it and the Drac fleet. There’s still lightning storms on Jupiter now, something about residual heavy ions and massive static charges or something.

Fifty-eight hours later, with every Vandal ship reduced to slagged debris and nine wounded Drac ships spinning about as they vented atmosphere, they started with the broad-band chanting again. And then the communiqué that confused the hell out of us all.

“Do you hold out debt fulfilled?”

After the sixth or seventh comms officer told them “we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about” as politely as possible, the Drac fleet commander got on the horn and asked to speak to a human Admiral in roughly the same tone as a telemarketer telling a kid to give the phone to Daddy. When the Admiral didn’t know either, the Drac went silent for a minute, and when he came back on his translator was using much smaller words, and talking slower.

“Is our blood debt to Drake McDougal’s clan now satisfied?”

The Admiral said “Who?”

What the Drac commander said next would’ve caused a major diplomatic incident had he remembered to revert to the more complex translation protocols. He thought the Admiral must be an idiot, a coward, or both. Eventually, the diplomats were called out, and we were asked why the human race has largely forgotten the sacrifice of Drake McDougal.

Humans, we explained, sacrifice themselves all the time.

We trotted out every news clip from the space-wide Nets from the last twelve years. Some freighter cook that fell on a grenade during a pirate raid on Outreach. A ship engineer who locked himself into the reactor room and kept containment until the crew evacuated. Firefighter who died shielding a child from falling debris with his body, during an earthquake. Stuff like that.

That Dracs were utterly stunned. Their diplomats wandered out of the conference room in a daze. We’d just told them that the rarest, most selfless and honorable of acts - acts that incurred generations-long blood-debts and moved entire fleets - was so routine for our species that they were bumped off the news by the latest celebrity scandal.

Everything changed for humanity after that. And it was all thanks to a single tug pilot who taught the galaxy what truly defines Man.

[fattyatomicmutant-deactivated20]

This makes me cry

[stephendann]

It had been so many cycles since the Drac incident, and even more since the Drake McDougal event, and the the galaxy had sort of come to the conclusion that humans were, well, human about things, and that they regarded their lives in completely incomprehensible ways.

Yet for all of the witnessed sacrifices, few warriors had ever been taught to recognise the most terrifying of human deeds. In a forgettable corner of the galaxy, in an unremarked planet with a previously less than recorded history, a party of six human security escorts bringing their rescued survivors to a hive ship became a party of five, 

A lone human, holding one of their handheld ‘melee’ weapons wordlessly tilted their head to their commander, and stopped, standing in plain sight in the middle of a field. 

Waiting.

When asked, the lower ranked humans simply said “She knows what’s she’s doing”.  The human captain’s inexplicable statement “She’s buying us some time” made it as if their companion had stepped into some form of marketplace. 

Katherine of Rescue Group’s fate was never confirmed, but no pursuit came that night. On the next dawn, when the hive ship was able to leave, the humans insisted we departed immediately, and did not go back for their companion.

We do not know for sure what became of Katherine of Rescue Group. All we know is that when pressed, the human captain explained to our own that the one who stayed had communicated an ancient human tradition, the rite of self sacrifice.  In words, the captain explained, the look and the nod would mean “Go on. I’ll hold them off.  It was not, as we thought, that this one warrior had sought victory over many enemies, but that they had calculated a trade off of the minutes or hours it could take to defeat a human, against the time needed by their companions.

Humans, as humans say, do not go gentle into that good night.  

Worse, they do not go gentle into bad nights, worse days, or terrifying sunsets. Dawn seems to fill them with potency and rage, as if to call upon the solar gods and tell the deities to come down here and say that to their human faces. We do not know how long she bought us, but we, the hive now called K’thrn, understand what it means to have someone expend their existence for the survival of others.

We find it terrifying.

[jazzybot4]

I love this one. Reblogging for something new. 

[bramblethekobold]

Humans had been part of the intergalactic alliance now for longer than most could remember. New member systems were typically bemused by the Dracs semi-reverence of these fragile, hairless beings, and the Hives’ blend of respect and fear. 

Until the moment when their ambassadors were shown The Film. 

That’s all it was called, because the contents weren’t comprehensible.

Over time, the Vandals had reorganized and rebuilt; they’d formed alliances, created new weapons technologies, and were completely ready to take on the Drac galactic navy.

They were utterly unprepared for the humans. 

The command ship of the Vandal fleet was unassailable. Ion weapons were turned aside, the most powerful laser arrays were useless. Physical projectiles did work, but the mass of even a missile next to the ship was insignificant.

When the human destroyer Athena began to accelerate towards it, all shields to front, full power to thrusters, the Dracs made contact immediately, demanding to know what they intended to do.

The comm channel came back with a medley of humans singing, chanting, praying, and the captain simply said, “Ending this damn war.”

And disconnected.

The Drac central command watched the remote readouts of the human ship as it soared past the Vandal fighter vanguard. The Athena wasn’t firing, and the Vandal command didn’t have a protocol to deal with this, so they directed no resources towards the destroyer.

The reactor on board the destroyer began to systematically overload. Command patched through directly to the engineering room, and were met with the chief engineer saying with a smile, “No time to explain, I’ve got to say my last words to my creator.”

And he disconnected.

The Athena was traveling at an unsafe speed when it collided with the Vandal command ship, tearing through the armor.

When the Athena’s reactors then went critical and destroyed the entire Vandal command, the human admiral aboard the Drac command vessel bowed his head and said, “May their memories be a blessing,” and proceeded to help plan the final assault on the remaining, disorganized Vandal fleet. The remaining human ships were heard chanting “For the Athena!” as they went into battle with little regard for their own safety, and less for the Vandals.

Ambassadors were always pale by the end of The Film, but none of them questioned humanity’s place in the alliance again.

[enki2]

Don't get married; just dress like this to go grocery shopping

[terminusverge]

I mean I would dress like this just to walk my dog honestly.

[orion-archives]

"I want to be a dragon."

[firawren]

People who are hard on yourselves: may I humbly offer you the 100 floors of frights philosophy?

In the SNL David S. Pumpkins sketch, a couple is on a ride called "100 Floors of Frights," where they see a different scare on each floor, and at one point they complain about many of those floors being lame. And then Kenan Thompson delivers this line of deep philosophical wisdom: "Hey look—it's 100 floors of frights, they not all gonna be winners."

My husband and I use this line all the time to give ourselves grace. For instance, I'm a good cook, but when I make a dinner that doesn't turn out well, I will literally say out loud, "It's 100 floors of frights—they're not all gonna be winners," or just "Look it's 100 floors of frights."

It just means when you do a thing a whole lot, there's bound to be some instances that are bad. You don't have to be good at the thing 100% of the time. You can't be good 100% of the time. Some of the 100 floors are gonna suck. It doesn't negate your skill at creating the rest of the 100 floors.

You can use this for anything: art you make, performances, school assignments, days at work, outfits, sex sessions, literally anything that you are too hard on yourself about when it doesn't go great. Listen to Kenan Thompson and remember that it's impossible for them all to be winners, and that's okay.

[claudiagray]

My husband and I use the phrase this way ALL THE TIME. It's helpful!

[pukicho]

Doctor: $140,000 a year

Furry artist on Patreon: $160,000 a year

i think you’re lowballing the furry art amount tbh

[pukicho]

I’m sorry for the inaccuracies, Doctor Yiff

no matter how I respond to this I don’t look good, well played. i walked right into that

Well, furry artists are typically more competent and courteous than your average doctor, so I can see that.

[pukicho]

Did you just legitimately tell me that a person who draws wolf ass is more competent than a dude who spent 8+ years in a university to give you your lung transplant?

doctors are bullshit and furry artists perform an infinitely more valuable service to society compared to them

[pukicho]

You will die in 7 days

[hokuto-ju-no-ken]

It took doctor’s like 10 years to diagnose what was wrong with me, some insisting I was faking for attention while a furry artist I knew just went “that sounds like crohn’s” after hearing me complain once and ended up being right

Also I can’t go to a doctor and ask them to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall with tits to match, now can I

[kolbye]

You could if you weren’t a fucking coward

[worldheritagepostorganization]

World Heritage Post

[raevenlywrites]

Art by coolfrogdude together at last

[unyieldingsilence]

‎

[beyond-the-light-deactivated202]

Star-crossed Lovers.

"I'll always find you....no matter how many lifetimes it takes."

Was almost going to scrap this piece. I just couldn't get it to be somewhere I liked it. Well....I eventually found it and so it finds its way to you! But here's my main OC Dani, sharing a moment with the man, the myth, the legend. Cayde-6.

heh heh heh. 👉👈

[sokkalore]

[sokkalore]

to be clear: this is not a joke. the governor of utah read “if you’re reading this you’re gay” on live TV during his press conference.

[dazeylily]

Inscriptions found on bullet casings of Charlie Kirk's suspected killer

Utah Governor Spencer Cox confirmed that inscriptions were found on the bullet casings belonging to Tyler Robinson, the suspected accused of

[headspace-hotel]

IT'S NOT A JOKE WATCH THE VIDEO

Second source

[limesareyellow]

G1 Ratchet: skirt no panties. Agree? Yes. Subscribe

[limesareyellow]

Like this.

Turns out it boosts team morale so they just don't tell him.

[coelasquid]

Sometimes we’re unsatisfied with a thing we made because when it only existed in our head, we saw all the things it could have been and when it’s done we know all the things that it isn’t, but we can’t see the way it expands into a million new things when someone else unpacks it in their head.

[elodieunderglass]

Oh wow

[ramshornsnailstorm]

Foreign fauna ☘️🌿

A Slowburn, multi chaptered, Tighnarixgn!reader fic.

No established relationship, coworkers to lovers, mentions of displacement/estrangement (getting lost) later on in the story, sharp objects, suffocation, light angst later on, and clueless dimwits who can’t talk about simple things like feelings…

By: Severn :)

Word count: ~1.4K

Last chapter <- read this first!

————————————————Chapter 1———————————————

Something was off. Wrong. You and Tighnari travelled through the waypoint, but even though you were teleporting as usual, it was taking… way longer—As if travelling farther. You and him were stuck in an empty void. Only It wasn’t so empty upon closer inspection. Stars and cosmos and meteors flew by. You were lucky none of them close enough to hit you. Without gravity, your bag started slipping off your shoulders. There was a constant sense of movement. A permanent vacuum of air in which you couldn’t breathe.

Panicked, you shot a glance at Tighnari, equally as concerned, his brows furrowed and eyes examining every inch of the area, trying to find a way out. But there was none. Only miles of stars and debris. Far as you could see.

The seconds ticked by slower than ever.

6…

7…

8…

9…

You couldn’t hold your breath any longer.

10…

Your vision started blurring.

11…

Your body urged you to take a breath.

12…

…and just when you thought you couldn’t hold onto your consciousness any longer, you and Tighnari popped out the other side of the leyline as normal.

Thrown into a patch of tall grass, you gasped and coughed for air. As if mocking you for your helplessness, the ground seemed to double onto your state by knocking the air out of your lungs once more. Oxygen couldn’t reach inside your lungs fast enough. You gasped and wheezed for minutes before finally settling.

And when it finally did calm, you melted into the grass. Closing your eyes. Breathing deep. That was all you needed for now.

“What.. what happened?” You said once the world stopped spinning. You couldn’t imagine what went wrong on your own. Not for this.

“..I’m… not sure.” Tighnari whispered back. He sounded.. unsteady. Something you’d never heard before.

You sat up, looking at him and the area you were both stuck in. His ears were pressed flat in alarm. Eyes narrowed and darting over what you were now in the middle of. A clearing in a forest. Tall grass, trees higher than the cloud line. Vines thick enough to be pillars. And the atmosphere was a chilling humid fog. A far cry from the unbearable heat you’d been submerged in just seconds ago. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Are we.. in the avidiya forest? I’ve never seen trees this tall there.” You said, standing and running your fingers over the bark. Then, you glanced back at the waypoint. Cracked. Missing entire pieces of stone. Vines overtaking it just like the one back home. They were digging into the stone, growing through fractures and causing problems. That.. must’ve been what had happened to the waypoint back in Sumeru. You couldn’t see any fractures because the vines covered everything—oh, you knew something was off!

“No.. I believe not. This is somewhere else entirely. I-I’m not even sure we’re still in Teyvat.” Tighnari answered, examining the plants around the area we were in.

“Don’t wander into the forest—you’ll get lost and not even I will be able to find you.” He shot you a knowing glance before examining the veins on a nearby flower for a clue of their whereabouts.

“Look here.. this… isn't native to sumeru at all. Nor any other nation…”

“...fascinating.” Tighnari said, his eyes a little brighter now. He snapped open the clasp on his bag, pulling out a leather journal and writing about every detail on the flower.

“I-if we brought this back to sumeru, imagine what discoveries could be made.. so many undiscovered species of plants...” He said, tail flicking in interest.

“…Forest Watcher Tighnari?” You interrupt quietly. He flinches and turns to you.

“R-right. Yes.” He straightens himself, putting his journal back into his satchel.

“We should prioritize water and shelter first. But…we can’t wander far, otherwise we’ll lose the waypoint and get lost…” He clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers on his thigh. His eyes scanned the clearing for supplies. You followed suit.

Around you, there was grass around 45inches tall, the flowers Tighnari had been looking at. The thick vines… fallen trees.. sunlight streaming through the canopy and faint bird calls in the distance. His eyes fixed on a vine particularly close to the ground.

Wait.

The vines…

If you could manage to cut off a thin strap…

Yes! That would make finely for a rope. In which you could tie to the waypoint and trace back your steps once you’ve finished!

“Tighnari!” You looked at him. He nodded curtly.

“Boost me.” He took an arrow out of his quiver, holding it like a knife. His eyes trained on the winding, sturdy material.

You got one knee, putting your hands together and interlacing your fingers, creating a stable platform for Tighnari to step on. His boot ragged with grip so he wouldn’t trip on the slick mud in the rainforest dug into your palm, but nonetheless you, absorbed his weight as he jumped up. He stabbed the arrow into the vine as he fell, then dragged the arrow down and cut open a large strip of the vine.

Working out the tip, he jumped once more and cut another strip. Then when you were both free and the arrow was pulled out, you both grabbed and pulled a piece of the cut vine, furthering the amount of rope. Soon you had around 5 meters of vine cut out. Tentatively, Tighnari wrapped the strip of vine around the waypoint.

“This should do fine for some exploring.” He nodded, securing the rope around his waist. “You hold onto the vine. Make sure it stays taught in case it cuts on something along the way.”

You hummed in agreement before gathering up the excess rope and handing it to Tighnari for him to drop as they went. Finally prepared, you could now venture into the forest to look for supplies. But you both had to be quick.

The night was bound to approach soon.

—————————————————————————

Tighnari’s official patrol log—Day 2

Time: Around noon. (We need to make a sundial later.)

After me and Ranger Y/N were thrown out of the waypoint, we arrived inside a forest boasting thousands of trees that are almost as tall as the Divine Tree in Sumeru, a tree so large that an entire village was built under it for shade—More on what that could mean for this eco-system later. I've come across a flower resembling something very close to Nymphaea Caerulea, or nilotpala lotuses—flowers that only bloom at night. Though this flower is cream coloured and boasts large, thick bowl shaped petals. Similar to flowers pollinated by beetles. It emits a strong smell. I wonder what I could learn from

(The text cuts off there. Seems the watcher was interrupted.)

————————————————————————

Tag list: @metamorphspectra

[ladysantos]

your loot or your life for @scubaby!!