Hello to anyone who sees this, thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. I’ve already made one of these posts before, but now that I’ve got a better handle on this “Tumblr” thing, I figured I would give it another more “official” try
I’m not a super interesting person, but here’s the main highlights: I’m a Christian, I’m a dude, I live in Texas, and my age as of this writing is older than 18 but younger than 21, that’s all I'd rather say right now(04/09/26).
I am horrendously awkward and really bad at social interactions, so please be patient with me, sorry if I ever come across as weird or annoying (Though to be fair, I am very strange).
I’m interested in a whole bunch of stuff, but here’s a general idea:
-The Chosen
-Sonic
-Mario
-Zelda
-Wingfeather Saga
-Star Wars
-Kung Fu Panda
-Hollow Knight
-Klonoa
-Kirby
-Epic:The Musical
-Ducktales
-Wall-E
Other misc. hobbies are reading, hiking, running, looking up random animal facts, and writing (Currently working on an okayish book series)
I usually try to steer away from politics and things of that nature, but I am happy to discuss Christianity if anyone is interested (Though I respectfully ask that you keep discussion civil if that is the case). If you like the random things I have to say here great, if not, no worries.
Not sure if anyone needs to know this or not, but I'm probably not going to be around on here for a bit, I'm going to work at a camp for the rest of the summer, and to make sure I don't get too unfocused or anything of that nature, I'll probably be staying away from Tumblr for a bit and screens in general. Again, not sure if this is really relevant or not, but just for anyone who would be curious, for the next month or two I won't be around, at least as often.
I recently realized that just by overly specifying whatever you say, you can automatically make it ten times creepier, despite being objectively truthful
For example:"Would you like to meet my two alive human brothers who are most assuredly not rats in disguise?" or "Care for a glass of legally acquired water that is 100% not poisoned?"
Again, both of those statements are objectively truthful in the context they're used in, but their normalcy is increasingly stifled with each additional detail.
I thought it’d be fun if I wrote a small story following a common bug (In this case one that eventually became a Leaping Husk) in last days of Hallownest just before the Infection first hit.
Warning in advance, this is only the beginning of the story, so it’s probably gonna be pretty boring for the most part, and I’ve had to type the entirety of this on my phone between car rides, so please let me know if there’s any issues with the writing.
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Orland didn’t awake with a start so much as he was slowly roused to consciousness by the scuttling and rustling of the beasts and pests beyond the confines of his meagre housing. He’d gotten into the habit of getting up alongside them to get an earlier start on the day. The cost of the employment of such a tactic, however, was frequent exhaustion, an effect which he was currently suffering the wrath of.
This state of fatigue was in no way soothed by the arrangement from which he had woken, that being with his back resting against the uncomfortable texture of a shellwood chair, and his head rested against an equally rough desk, cushioned only by a handful of stone tablets onto which his reports had been wearily scrawled.
“Last time I fall asleep filing” he sleepily muttered to no one in particular, knowing in the back of his mind that it most definitely would not be.
He groggily raised his head so that the less blurry of his two eyes was fixed squarely on the time piece fixed to the wall. 5:30 it read. A mere 3 hours since he had fallen into unconsciousness. And in spite of the time he had dedicated to accomplishing his paperwork, he still had a good deal left to go. Guess I’ll just finish it during my break he thought to himself, already dreading the experience. Not even within an hour of opening yet and he was already feeling the enormity of the work ahead of him.
Orland ran his claws across his horns, stopping short of his temples as he leaned his elbows onto the desk, holding his head as a dull ache permeated about the whole of his carapace. Gonna be another one of those days I guess. He lingered in that position for a short while longer, for how much time specifically he could not say, his entire understanding of time in complete shambles by the hand of his lack of sleep, but eventually he roused himself from the desk and gave his sore limbs a stretch, hearing an unsettling number of pops and cracks in his shell as he did so.
He haphazardly staggered his way over to the other side of the building where another table placed just under the window sat in waiting, upon it lying a series of containers, though the whole of his focus was fixed solely upon one located near the front, a position indicative of its frequent use. As he reached it, he popped open the lid with practiced ease, inhaling deeply as the strong, almost invigorating aroma wafted to his face. Within the container was a liquid commonly used by those accustomed to long hours within the kingdom, a cocktail of various herbal extracts, the names of which he could hardly remember, a recipe pioneered by some researchers from the Archive.
Though it wasn’t the most flavourful of beverages, it got the job done, he thought as he poured the liquid from the jar into a smaller cup, downing the whole of the drink in one short gulp. And get the job done it did, not even a few seconds past its consumption and he was already feeling the buzz of it coursing through his veins.
And with that, he set about making preparations for the day ahead of him; organising writing utensils, filing report copies and preparing new order sheets for the day ahead. As tedious as some would find the task, there was a dull sense of pleasure he derived in the routine actions of organising his work station.
The same could not be said for the work that would soon take place in it, however. That wasn’t to say his job as a Tallybug wasn’t fulfilling or successful enough for his liking, in truth he found it quite stimulating:learning of all the various goods going to and fro within the kingdom as he jotted them down, seeing trends arise but in the last week or two especially, the typically manageable workload had been more heavy on him than what he imagined the feel of crossroads guard’s club to be. This time of year was always busy, seeing as how a good number of the farms on the outer edges of the kingdom and the borders they shared with the Mosskin were reaching their harvest season, but this one felt…especially packed to say the least.
Still, he shook off any misgivings he had about the day to come better to get a move on, the sooner it starts the sooner it finishes, thought Orland.
And with that, he exited from the humble abode that doubled as his primary workstation and into the greater whole of the storage area. It was a fairly spacious cave, well kept and lit as well considering the sheer amount of foot traffic it endured. The primary loading area was fixed squarely between two stagways, smaller than those one would typically see in a station, but large enough to allow the transit of the eponymous stags for which they were named. Said platform, coated in an organized mix of carved stone and metal railing, was burdened with the load of dozens upon dozens of packages both large and small from all corners of the kingdom.
He surveyed this all from the deck of his home, a secondary, more public, work place fitted with several desks of similar make to the ones inside, all lined with numerous notes, writing utensils and containers of various functions. It was from here that he performed his primary job as Tallybug, that being monitoring the nature, origin, size, quality and eventual home of every item that passed the threshold of this facility. A job that, with the recent swell of goods that they were experiencing, was proving more than a bit stressful.
He made his way over to a small container in which mail was placed, and while there wasn’t usually much there to be found, today there was a slab, a schedule from the looks of it, stamped with the seal of the capital. The workload for this week he observed. A courier bug had dropped it off last night whilst Orland had been in the throes of paperwork, during which he had mentally noted to examine whatever it said in regard to the weekly schedule in the morning. As he now stood here doing that very task, however, he was thoroughly less than pleased, and he imagined the rest of his coworkers would feel the same.
After a minute or two had passed following his assessment, he heard footsteps near the entrance to the warehouse. “Summon the troupe and they shall appear” he muttered quietly to himself as his small staff meandered their way inside.
A few paces away from the larger body of workers was the primary guard of their operation, Darrow, he believed his name was, they had little in the way of interaction so he couldn’t be certain. Darrow was a stocky sort of bug, well built and a claws length shorter than Orland himself, though there was little doubt in his mind that he was many times his superior in strength. Then again, that isn’t really saying much Orland thought to himself in a bout of deprecating humor. Fitting of his position, Darrow was equipped with a shell and nail of decent quality, more than enough to contend with whatever attempted to intrude their business, though in Orland’s experience such an incident rarely occurred.
They offered each other a professional nod of acknowledgment before Darrow to his place near the base of the short staircase that bridged the overview to the rest of the platform, allowing the guard a full view of the area.
Next in coming were the primary claws of the operation, that being the load lifters. They were a series of bugs, some smaller some larger, all with dense carapaces and sturdy claws that aided them greatly in their work. With them, Orland was on far better terms, not to the degree that he would consider the majority of them anything other than “work-friends”, but they served and treated him well, an act of respect that he did best to reciprocate by being as good of an employer as he could.
“Morning” some of the bugs near the front of the pack greeted as Orland descended the steps with a stack of their daily schedules in his claws, a gesture he attempted to mirror with one of his own with a polite, if slightly sleep-slurred “Morning”
He began to hand them their lists of loads which they would be assigned today with as much formality as he could muster in the face of his exhaustion. As he had predicted mere minutes ago, with each tablet he gave out, he was met again and again with the same incredulous stare levelled both at him and the list. As he issued a tablet to the last of the bugs in line, a burlier fellow named Corban, he voiced the concern that Orland had seen on the expressions of many of his fellows “Double shift again, really boss? I thought you said it was just till’ weeks end”
Orland gave a sigh at that, resting one claw at his hip and placing the other on his forehead, now scrunched in frustration at the nature of his predicament “With luck, I said, with luck it’d only last until the end of last week, it wasn’t a guarantee. And for what it’s worth the schedule the courier dropped off last night says that it’s only two more days.”
The small crowd of workers grumbled at that. Again, Orland let out a sigh as he addressed the staff, lifting his hands in a calming motion “Look I’m no happier about this than any of you are, but what the Capital says goes. Best just to do what they say until things die down” After this failed to do much to soothe the bitterness of the workers, he decided to pull out the trump card he’d been saving “Plus, I heard that to compensate for the longer hours, their tripling overtime pay, so…” That certainly got their attention, and within moments they were all off to their stations to prep for the day with such vigour, that if Orland didn’t know any better, he’d say they were some of those workers from the Hive he’d heard about.
As the lifters set about stacking crates and sealing them shut in anticipation of the first stag’s arrival, Orland weaved in and out of their activities, marking the content, value and destination of each package, jotting down notes to compare and add to the larger tablet he had on one of the outdoor desks.
He was just finishing filling out a data table for a couple of lumafly lanterns en route to Fog Canyon when he heard the all-too familiar sound of hooves on stone down the echoing chambers of the stagways on either side.
First to appear was a fresh faced young stag with a glossy blue shell, appearing to his left in a clumsy skid, earning a light chuckle from the workers.
Within the same heartbeat to the right of the loading platform, an older, rougher stag appeared, her darker hued shell dotted with far more signs of age than her younger compatriot.
“Morning Sir!” Piped the young stag to Orland, which he met in turn with a far less enthusiastic, but no less kind “good day, where you coming from?” “The Wastes sir!” Orland nodded, jotting it down on his notes “And where to?” The stag paused in thought for a moment, clearly still getting used to the various routes he traversed “Uh, resting grounds, sir” he eventually answered. Orland nodded in understanding as he listed it on the “going” column of his chart. “Very good, that’ll be 2 crates of candles and 1 of incense. I’ll have the workers bring it around” The Young stag responded with a nod of its own, readying himself for the weight that would soon be placed upon his saddle.
Afterwards, Orland briskly made his way over to the older stag, whom he was far more familiar with.
“Morning Frieda” he calmly greeted, “Morning Orland,” she replied in a gravelly, yet kind voice, “Crystal peak and Kingdoms edge” she preemptively stated, an act which Orland greatly appreciated given the long day ahead of them both “Ah, regular Monday shift I see” To that, Frieda gave a tired nod, giving her shoulders a roll as she did so “Pretty much, ‘cept with the lovely addition of a couple thousand more deliveries” Orland sighed at that “Yeah, last few weeks have been tough on everyone. Any word on why that is on your end?”
Frieda shook her head “‘fraid not, the folks round the Capital have been quieter than a flock of Alubas. If there’s something going on, they haven’t told me.” Orland wrinkled his brow at that. He’d expected as much, but there was still some small part of him that had hoping for something more concrete to pass down the line to his staff, as well as to calm his own nerves. “I see. Well, thanks anyway Frieda, wishing you luck today” “Same friend, looks like we’ll both need it.”
As he stepped back from the side of the platform to allow the stags, now laden with cargo, to depart, he leaned against a crate marked for later departure, the softer exoskeleton around his eyes wrinkling as he closed his eyes. That’s two loads down, only…a couple hundred or so left to go, assuming everything goes smoothly, which he knew it wouldn’t there was always some kind of delay or complication.
“You alright there boss?” A voice from behind him roused him from his overwhelmed state. He turned around slightly to meet the gaze of a shorter member of the load lifting bugs, Efram if he remembered correctly. “Oh, yes, yes I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well is all” to that, Efram raised an eye. “You weren’t sleeping well last week either, you sure?”Orland hung his head for a fraction of a second before letting out a deep sigh, waving his hand dismissively “Well, you know how it is, busy season and all that” he said, taking a moment to tap the stack of tablets he held in his hand against a raised knee. “Wyrm willing not for much longer though.” He concluded, earning a humourless chuckle from Efram “Guess we’ll see”
As he left to continue his tasks. In truth, it was far more than the endurance of the current surplus of work that was weighing him down. He’d worked in this facility for a good number of years now, having weathered many difficult times and heavy loads, but throughout all of them there were patterns to be observed, rules by which they played. This? A sudden uptake in good traffic as the busy season was already nearing its end, the whole of the kingdom abuzz with the transit of seemingly unrelated goods with no clear indicator as to why, it felt more like an expression of panic than some mere shipping trend. And to an analytical mind like Orlands, such an unexplained and unexpected occurrence didn’t sit right, clouding his already tired mind.
But, just as quickly as he began to descend, the noise of more incoming stags brought him back to the present, and he repeated his own advice to the workers in his head It’ll be fine, just buckle down, I’m sure that whatever’s causing all the panic down in the capital will resolve itself, and things will be back to normal in no time. Though the act of self-comfort assuaged his worry at least in part for the time being, in the back of his mind, that same sense of worry that had plagued him in that short interaction still lingered, as silent as a Belfly awaiting intruders. The only thing that would prove its legitimacy however would be time…and maybe a good nights sleep.
I like your Jackal squad just ditched Infinite theory, you might also want to hear that official word from Sega is Infinite was never friends with the Jackal squad.
Thanks friend!
I remember hearing about that somewhere, specifically in that while they were loyal to him, he saw them only as a means to an end.
