estrogenandspite: (Default)
 Part of me is seriously tempted to learn how to mod games entirely so I can mod games where I play as a dwarf into basically any other fantasy species.
 
I don't like fantasy dwarves in most media. So often they're an antisemitic caricature wrapped in a Scottish/Irish caricature who are almost always culturally conservative *and* I can't even get comfortable playing one gender-wise because they almost always only have male models with beards. 
 
And I don't think this is deliberate on the part of people who make these games! But the modern fantasy dwarf is greedy and bearded with a large nose and talks in some flavor of vaguely Scottish accent (with some mixed in Welsh/Irish accent) while being a burly drunk and is hairy, and it just...ruins it for me. (I don't like how Elves and Orcs are usually handled either, but you less often see games where your only option is to play as an Elf or an Orc so it comes up less.)
 
So when I see a game that looks exactly up my alley, except the premise is "You are a dwarf who" etc etc (Current example is Orebound, which looks like everything I love but you play as a dwarf) I get frustrated because I know what to expect.
 
I'm a fantasy author. I *get* that we have to walk a delicate balance. Readers/Gamers/Viewers *like* elves/dwarves/orcs, so using them is a good way to get people in the door. I just... well, the reason I started this post off with "I want to learn to mod so I can" is because I don't expect devs to cater things to my tastes. 
 
But...if you *are* making something with dwarves (or any other classic fantasy species) please at least do something interesting with them culture-wise so they're not just a grab bag of stereotypes. (Also give us an option to play women with or without beards kthx)
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This post started as a reply on a mostly unrelated thread on cohost that I ended up spinning into an entire one-shot Pokémon AU. If I had the time and energy to write things purely for fun, I think I'd expand on this. As is... I like it a lot. 
 
I’ve always had a headcanon that Giovanni (in the games, not the anime) is a former Pokemon champion that got bored. He has everything he needs, he’s not in it for the money. He’s in it for the thrills. That’s why he makes himself the hardest gym on the continent, that’s why he was interested in those fossils, that’s why he had his scientists make Mewtwo: he was desperate for a real challenge.
And that was why he was so calm about this 12 year old tears his empire apart. Because he’s actually thrilled. Here we have a real challenge, someone who can give him a proper fight.
 
This is also why we find Red on top of a mountain in Gold and Silver, and why he just wearily fights us without a word. After becoming the champion and defeating Mewtwo…Red realized he understood how Giovanni became Giovanni, how after spending your formative years in Pokémon battles you can lose sight of the Pokémon and just become obsessed with the battles.
 
I like to think beating Red on that mountain gave him perspective as he walked down, all his Pokémon fainted, realizing Giovanni was wrong and that he was in danger of being the same kind of wrong. That focusing on the challenge meant you lost sight of the bonds with your Pokémon. That he apologized to them after they were healed, gave them all hugs, and promised them they could rest after one more fight.
 
Then he went back to Giovanni and explained this all in the only language the older man would understand: a final battle. Did Giovanni learn his lesson? Would he keep working on his criminal empire?
 
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it wasn’t Red’s problem anymore.
 
Red took his championship winnings right now and runs the largest Pokémon ranch on the planet, where all his captured Pokémon are now free to live their lives if they choose and if they leave, he only asks that they say gooodbye so he doesn’t worry. Ever so often, some kid comes by to challenge the one time champion, and he’ll do so with whatever mons are willing to fight. Some of those kids comment how easy the new Viridian city gym leader is.
 
Giovanni comes by for those fights. Once a year. He loses every time. There’s been no sign of team rocket. Every time Giovanni thanks Red. Never explains why, but Red gets it.
 
Sometimes you need to be kept humble.
 
In this timeline, which is all about healing, Blue and Oak finally had a proper talk. Blue admitted he felt like Oak was consantly overlooking him and that’s why he lashed out at people around him. Oak apologized and realized that was a good start, but real healing would require therapy.
 
During that therapy, Oak finally just told Blue that he was asking everyone if they were a boy or a girl not because he’d gone senile, but because he hoped asking would make Blue more comfortable asking that question in the mirror. Oak had seen the signs, but everything said not to pressure a person into coming out, but he wanted to help with puberty blockers since that would be relevant very soon.
 
Transition is easier in a world of potions and now going by Azure, she’s much happier these days.
 
Part of Azure’s healing process was apologizing to Red for the endless bullying, but after dealing with an actual mafia Red was like “yeah we’re cool. I mean, I did tell everyone on the continent your name was Asshole, so I’m not blameless. Also, she/her from now on? Awesome.”
 
They weren’t close friends right away because just because someone apologized doesn’t mean you let them back into your life right away, but they are in the short list of “former champions”. Azure went on to work at and eventually become the director of the Safari Zone and reshape it into something better, so it’s an actual nature preserve as opposed to a legalized hunting ground. Pokémon that are particularly traumatized or not able to fit in to the zones’s habitat needed somewhere to go, and Azure couldn’t think of anyone better than Red.
 
He was and is happy to help, especially because helping Pokémon like that would be great therapy for Mewtwo. This brought the two into contact more often and, over time, a spark lit between them. Pikachu and Venasaur encouraged it, but Charizard and Blastoise took longer - but they did come around after talking to Azure’s Pokémon and hearing how she’s changed.
 
Giovanni showed up at the wedding. He didn’t speak to anyone, save to briefly greet Azure by her chosen name. Other than that, there was a clear understanding between these three former champions.
 
Giovanni never stopped those yearly visits. And when there were some issues with Azure and Red adopting due to archaic laws, Azure vented when Giovanni could hear, and three months later every gym leader was calling for inclusive laws, because honestly it’s the year of Archeus 20XX we should be past that, and privately they were ashamed it required Giovanni, of all people, to bring this to their attention.
 
Mewtwo and Giovanni spoke once. Mewtwo said if Giovanni ever went too far, Mewtwo would leave Red’s ranch. 
 
Nothing else needed to be said. 
 
There was no reconciliation here. Some wrongs can’t be forgiven. Mewtwo was fine staying here while Azure and Red lived. When they passed, Mewtwo figured they could go looking for what came next.
 
Azure and Red adopted Green a year later, and when that little bundle of chaos grabbed Mewtwo’s ears and looked them dead in the eyes before saying “Kitty,” Mewtwo (now sometimes Kitty) decided immortality meant they could stay perhaps a bit longer.
 
And ever so often, waking up next to the man she never expected to love, Azure will give him a gentle kiss as she leaves for work and look over her shoulder before Zapdos gives her a lift to the Safari zone, and she gives him an impish grin, and Red smiles and says “don’t you dare” but he doesn’t actually mean it, he thinks this is cute, and she’s already speaking.
 
“Smell ya later, babe.”
 

estrogenandspite: (Default)

(Originally posted as a response to @lorenziniforce on cohost posting a timeline of effects of HRT that makes you into a dragon. This is the #1 story on the list for Project: Regenesis if I go that route. Also I'm changing the name to something I can spell consistently. Maybe just Project Rewrite.)

 ”Face it,” Lily said to herself. “This is just like last time. You knew then what you needed to do. This is no different just because it’s newer.”

Congratulations on starting your transition! Now that the options for nonhuman, otherworldly, and xenoborne transitions exist, we here at Occlusion are proud to be the number one nonprofit assisting all those looking to transition into bodies that better match your internal life.

As a quick note, Occlusion only assists with hylic and sarkic transitions - those seeking robotic, digital, or cybernetic transitions should contact our sister organization, Mechify! If you are looking for both, we can assist you in finding a doctor that will help you understand which is the ideal starting point for your transition goals.

Those seeking otherworldly powers but no permanent physical alterations or should seek non-transition methods of developing arcane abilities or petition for sponsorship with one of the NuGods - for the former, click here for a directory of mage’s guilds in your area, and for the latter click here for Pantheon Now for assistance navigating the divine sponsorship programs.

If you need assistance because you are Sarkic or Hylic and facing discrimination for your transition, a directory of affirming lawyers in your area can be found here.

Now then, which of these terms best describes your proper form? If you already know, head directly to the correct page for more information.

  • Draconic (Includes all other scaled forms with paranormal abilities. Note that these transitions do include draconic energies - those looking for a draconic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial therapies specializing in scale, tail, and/or wing formation.)
  • Bestial (Includes all transitions into a humanoid body with animalistic features. Bestial transitions can include the infusion of Occultogen to facilitate the development of paranormal abilities.)
  • Esoteric (Includes all transitions that do not map fully to the laws of the natural world. Note that Esoteric transitions are forms that cannot be fully expressed purely by biology or physics, and as such must include the energetic transition.)
  • Demonic (Includes all fiendish transitions. Note that these transitions do include demonic energies - those looking for the demonic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial and Draconic transitions.)
  • Angelic (Includes all celestial transitions. Note that these transitions do include angelic energies - those looking for the angelic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial and Mythic transitions.)

Occlusion is here to assist you as well if you are looking for support groups specialized in your particular morphotype in your area, finding therapy or therapy resources if you are uncertain if transition is right for you, and financial assistance with your transition if needed.

Click

The page loads quickly. The Ethernet wasn’t exactly the same as the Internet it replaced, being partially a digital plane of existence, but it was still built on the same general principles and adapted to work with old world computers. Lily had studied both computer science and sigilcraft in college, she knew the underlying tech like the back of her hand. The 2032 era tablet was using was one of the last models produced that wasn’t designed for the Ethernet specifically, but it had been designed for Ethernet support - the clicking sound had been a bit of legacy code to help the older generations feel more comfortable with the psychic controls.

You’ve selected Esoteric transition!

The text was over three photos. In the center was a girlthing that made Lily’s breath catch in her throat. The figure was feminine, and had a baseline human anatomy still - so one head, two arms, and two legs. Pronouns were listed beneath the image, Xi/Zer. Xi also had large, iridescent compound eyes, feathery antennae rising like trees from zer bright pink pixie cut hair, and four graceful tentacles ending in suckers emerging from zer back. Zer forearms and shins were covered in a glittering black carapace with spikes, and the parts of zer skin that were still skin were the rainbow of colors only possible via chromatophores. Some of the patches on zer shoulders and stomach - revealed by the crop top xi wore - were not just the result of zer shifting skin, but sigils that would help zer control the living shadow that currently formed the carapace on zer limbs.

Xi was perfect. Not exactly what Lily wanted, but so close to Lily’s dream that it was almost painful to see. She was no stranger to gender envy, and the only thing that kept the sensation from being too bad was the knowledge that this was within Lily’s grasp.

Her parents had barely tolerated her starting estrogen, but they were millennials so they had put up a good front for the sake of their progressive friends. “Oh, of course she’s our daughter now,” as if Lily couldn’t hear the feminine terms curdling on their tongues.

They’d gone ballistic when she came out as sarkic. 2052 barely tolerated human gendered transitions, but this? Lily had expected it to go badly, but the memory still hurt.

Lily pushed the thoughts aside. Today was a happy day. Today was the first day of the next stage of her life. When she’d realized she was trans, the term that was used was an egg cracking for that discovery. Realizing she was sarkic?

That was called her chrysalis breaking.

“We’ve already had second puberty,” Lily muttered under her breath with a grin. She glanced out the window, looking up at Earth’s new second moon, the deep purple orb that was the source of everything that made this possible. “What about third puberty?”

There was only one way to find out. Lily scrolled down.

estrogenandspite: (Default)

 (This was originally a response to the "Mech Pilot Who-" prompt "Mech Pilot who loves deploying in Swamps." It is a prime candidate for Project: Regensis, the fancy name I'm giving to "cohost stories I'd like to clean up and expand a little *or* make into full blown novels/Novellas.)

People often made fun of Hydra 1759-d for being a real world example of a “single biome planet,” a 20th century science fiction trope. 

Hannah couldn’t stand those people.

Hydra 1759-d, also known as Antheia for the Greek god of swamps, was not a “Swamp World.” There were marshes, bogs, fens, mires, vernal pools, and a few types not even seen on Earth. 

The marebog was the closest thing Antheia had to oceans, massive fields of what appeared to be relatively shallow water covered by tree-like organisms. However, those fields were actually hundreds of meters deep, just covered in a complex web of root structures that meant ten meters down, you were basically standing on a wicker basket woven across a planet. They absorbed salt to use as reinforcement in their structures, meaning the entire planet was nothing but freshwater. 

And that was just one example. 

There were dozens of others. The zeuspools were areas where perpetual storms driven by static build up from fungal like structures brought endless lightning. The hellmire was where single celled organisms analogous to amoeba produced gases that ignited in the sweltering heat, creating oven temperature regions filled with their own types of multicellular extremophiles 

Hannah loved this world, and that’s why she became a ranger.

Antheia had three different life forms that served as possible Future Intelligences, and as such Antheia was off limit to the majority of humans. None of the local life was advanced enough for communication to take place, but those three creatures were on par with crows and elephants and octopuses back home.

Which meant these worlds sometimes got used by people who didn’t want to be found.

People often through people like Hannah were hunting down drug smugglers or local ma-and-pa crime lords. Those kinds of people didn’t have resources to slip onto Class 3 Limited Access worlds. The people who set up shop in these kind of worlds were corporations looking to skirt pollution regulations, or far right militias looking to train for some uprising or another. 

That last one was what Hannah was up against right now. The Khorwights were looking to…Hannah had to check her log. Ah, right. They believed that the galaxy belonged to Humanity as the first starfaring races, and all alien life must be killed. Also, trans people were a conspiracy created in the 23rd century by alien parasites and a dozen other old-Earth bigotries that hadn’t been fully left behind when Earth had been put under a six century quarantine to give the entire planet time to heal. 

The Khorwights had assembled six Stahmkreiz mecha. Impressive, really. On an airless moon, Hannah would have been in trouble going one on six against even incompetent pilots in a Stahmkreiz. 

But they weren’t on an airless moon. They were on Anthiea.

To call it a chase was an overstatement. Hannah had to keep pretending to slow down, or have engine trouble, or get tangled to give them time to catch up. The Stahmkreiz could barely move in the thick waters of Anthiea. 

“Surrender!” one of them shouted over their mecha’s speakers. “We have you six to one!”

“I can count!” Hannah shouted back. “If you have me, take me!” 

Just a bit further…

There. 

She leapt out of the water onto the first bit of solid land she’d seen in a while. Her mecha was a piece of custom work, built to handle being waist deep in water at all times. She could propel herself like a boat floating on her shins, she could balance on waterlogged ground, she could fire a half dozen cluster bombs right now and probably take out three of them at once.

Except she wasn’t going to. Because doing so might damage this world.

She extended her blade and crouched into a fighting pose. Even in her custom green-grey mech, she couldn’t fight in melee while drenched in water. But if she had to, she could easily do so.

She wouldn’t need to.

“We have you now!” one of the Stahmkreiz shouted.

Hannah didn’t answer. She’d turned off her speakers when she got close for a reason. 

The one who had thrown out the taunt was the first to go. What had looked like just another rivulet of water rose up from the ground, wrapping around his mech like a tentacle. He screamed and opened fire wildly as it pulled him into the water, constricting him on the way down. His companions started to shout too.

Hannah waited until they were all entangled and sheathed her blade. The psuedopods weren’t strong enough to crush hardened steel. But they were strong enough to overload servos as they tried to move. She hopped out of her mecha and gently touched down on the island she had stood on.

Then she patted the ground. “Good boy” she said. There was a rumble in the air, but no reaction from the psueodopods. Hannah walked over towards one of the mechs. “You really didn’t do your homework before coming here,” she said.

“Let me out!” the pilot shouted.

“Lower your volume,” Hannah said. “The reapmarsh doesn’t like it when you’re too loud. That’s how you got grabbed.”

There was a few moments, and the pilot spoke again, this time his volume at a much more reasonable level. “Let me out, trahnic.”

“Word of advice? Don’t throw slurs at someone you’re asking for help.” Hannah pulled out a can from her suit and opened it. There was a nice crisp sound in the air. She took a drink. “But don’t worry. Once the reapmarsh lets you go, I’ll open your suit up.”

“You mean the organisms in the reapmarsh, you swine,” the pilot said.

“Nope. See, the reapmarsh is something we don’t have back home. A creature that is an ecosystem in and of itself.” Hannah took another drink and waited. The pilot finally caught on.

“You’re not wearing a suit,” he said.

“Bingo. Bioforming is much better than terraforming, in my opinion. Change our body to suit the world, not the world to suit our body, am I right?” She grinned. 

“You’re unnatural.”

“You’re a primate with delusions of grandeur.” Hannah shrugged. “I’m technically classified as  a semi-local lifeform now. Me and about thirty others. Our children will watch over this world for a thousand years. Their children will watch for a thousand more. By the time the local life is ready to join the galactic community, we’ll have watched this world long enough for your suit to have rusted into nothing. Your body will go with it.”

That brought a pause. “When…when does the reapmarsh let go?” he asked. 

“It takes about thirty years usually. I’ll just crack open your cockpit to let the water in once it does.” Hannah shrugged. “You can open it now if you want.”

“I can’t breathe in this air.”

“Correct.” Hannah went back to her mech. “You’re already dead. I’m going to your base. You’ve got the Beastmorph mecha there, right?”

“Yes. It will kill-”

“Shut up, no one cares. Look. I can do a single strafing run. Should shatter that terraforming dome your people have built here. Your false atmosphere will rush out, local atmosphere will rush in. Your people will die. Give me override codes for the Beastmorph, and I’ll give them a chance to surrender peacefully - and if they do, I’ll come back and set you free before your life support fails. Deal?”

He’d go for it. They always did. And Hannah would keep her promise. The look in this fascist’s eyes when she cracked open his cockpit and let local atmosphere rush in was always worth the wait. 

Hannah barely noticed something scamper off into the bushes and grinned. The Grex were low slung amphibious bipeds with a build somewhere between ape and dinosaur with the eyes of slugs. Personally, she hoped they would be the first to achieve communication with Earth. They were the kind of ugly that looped back around to being cute. 

Little did she know that she’d get that hope. The Grex had just begun playing with the concept of religion. This one would croak to his cluster of what he had witnessed. Those tales would spread to other Grex. They would spread across the world, and the story would come with them. One day, they would tell tales of the steel giants that waged war on their world. 

And they would remember the first of the Steel Wardens who had kept their world safe.

estrogenandspite: (Default)

 (This was originally a response to the "Mech Pilot Who-" prompt "Mech Pilot who loves deploying in Swamps." It is a prime candidate for Project: Regensis, the fancy name I'm giving to "cohost stories I'd like to clean up and expand a little *or* make into full blown novels/Novellas.)

People often made fun of Hydra 1759-d for being a real world example of a “single biome planet,” a 20th century science fiction trope. 

Hannah couldn’t stand those people.

Hydra 1759-d, also known as Antheia for the Greek god of swamps, was not a “Swamp World.” There were marshes, bogs, fens, mires, vernal pools, and a few types not even seen on Earth. 

The marebog was the closest thing Antheia had to oceans, massive fields of what appeared to be relatively shallow water covered by tree-like organisms. However, those fields were actually hundreds of meters deep, just covered in a complex web of root structures that meant ten meters down, you were basically standing on a wicker basket woven across a planet. They absorbed salt to use as reinforcement in their structures, meaning the entire planet was nothing but freshwater. 

And that was just one example. 

There were dozens of others. The zeuspools were areas where perpetual storms driven by static build up from fungal like structures brought endless lightning. The hellmire was where single celled organisms analogous to amoeba produced gases that ignited in the sweltering heat, creating oven temperature regions filled with their own types of multicellular extremophiles 

Hannah loved this world, and that’s why she became a ranger.

Antheia had three different life forms that served as possible Future Intelligences, and as such Antheia was off limit to the majority of humans. None of the local life was advanced enough for communication to take place, but those three creatures were on par with crows and elephants and octopuses back home.

Which meant these worlds sometimes got used by people who didn’t want to be found.

People often through people like Hannah were hunting down drug smugglers or local ma-and-pa crime lords. Those kinds of people didn’t have resources to slip onto Class 3 Limited Access worlds. The people who set up shop in these kind of worlds were corporations looking to skirt pollution regulations, or far right militias looking to train for some uprising or another. 

That last one was what Hannah was up against right now. The Khorwights were looking to…Hannah had to check her log. Ah, right. They believed that the galaxy belonged to Humanity as the first starfaring races, and all alien life must be killed. Also, trans people were a conspiracy created in the 23rd century by alien parasites and a dozen other old-Earth bigotries that hadn’t been fully left behind when Earth had been put under a six century quarantine to give the entire planet time to heal. 

The Khorwights had assembled six Stahmkreiz mecha. Impressive, really. On an airless moon, Hannah would have been in trouble going one on six against even incompetent pilots in a Stahmkreiz. 

But they weren’t on an airless moon. They were on Anthiea.

To call it a chase was an overstatement. Hannah had to keep pretending to slow down, or have engine trouble, or get tangled to give them time to catch up. The Stahmkreiz could barely move in the thick waters of Anthiea. 

“Surrender!” one of them shouted over their mecha’s speakers. “We have you six to one!”

“I can count!” Hannah shouted back. “If you have me, take me!” 

Just a bit further…

There. 

She leapt out of the water onto the first bit of solid land she’d seen in a while. Her mecha was a piece of custom work, built to handle being waist deep in water at all times. She could propel herself like a boat floating on her shins, she could balance on waterlogged ground, she could fire a half dozen cluster bombs right now and probably take out three of them at once.

Except she wasn’t going to. Because doing so might damage this world.

She extended her blade and crouched into a fighting pose. Even in her custom green-grey mech, she couldn’t fight in melee while drenched in water. But if she had to, she could easily do so.

She wouldn’t need to.

“We have you now!” one of the Stahmkreiz shouted.

Hannah didn’t answer. She’d turned off her speakers when she got close for a reason. 

The one who had thrown out the taunt was the first to go. What had looked like just another rivulet of water rose up from the ground, wrapping around his mech like a tentacle. He screamed and opened fire wildly as it pulled him into the water, constricting him on the way down. His companions started to shout too.

Hannah waited until they were all entangled and sheathed her blade. The psuedopods weren’t strong enough to crush hardened steel. But they were strong enough to overload servos as they tried to move. She hopped out of her mecha and gently touched down on the island she had stood on.

Then she patted the ground. “Good boy” she said. There was a rumble in the air, but no reaction from the psueodopods. Hannah walked over towards one of the mechs. “You really didn’t do your homework before coming here,” she said.

“Let me out!” the pilot shouted.

“Lower your volume,” Hannah said. “The reapmarsh doesn’t like it when you’re too loud. That’s how you got grabbed.”

There was a few moments, and the pilot spoke again, this time his volume at a much more reasonable level. “Let me out, trahnic.”

“Word of advice? Don’t throw slurs at someone you’re asking for help.” Hannah pulled out a can from her suit and opened it. There was a nice crisp sound in the air. She took a drink. “But don’t worry. Once the reapmarsh lets you go, I’ll open your suit up.”

“You mean the organisms in the reapmarsh, you swine,” the pilot said.

“Nope. See, the reapmarsh is something we don’t have back home. A creature that is an ecosystem in and of itself.” Hannah took another drink and waited. The pilot finally caught on.

“You’re not wearing a suit,” he said.

“Bingo. Bioforming is much better than terraforming, in my opinion. Change our body to suit the world, not the world to suit our body, am I right?” She grinned. 

“You’re unnatural.”

“You’re a primate with delusions of grandeur.” Hannah shrugged. “I’m technically classified as  a semi-local lifeform now. Me and about thirty others. Our children will watch over this world for a thousand years. Their children will watch for a thousand more. By the time the local life is ready to join the galactic community, we’ll have watched this world long enough for your suit to have rusted into nothing. Your body will go with it.”

That brought a pause. “When…when does the reapmarsh let go?” he asked. 

“It takes about thirty years usually. I’ll just crack open your cockpit to let the water in once it does.” Hannah shrugged. “You can open it now if you want.”

“I can’t breathe in this air.”

“Correct.” Hannah went back to her mech. “You’re already dead. I’m going to your base. You’ve got the Beastmorph mecha there, right?”

“Yes. It will kill-”

“Shut up, no one cares. Look. I can do a single strafing run. Should shatter that terraforming dome your people have built here. Your false atmosphere will rush out, local atmosphere will rush in. Your people will die. Give me override codes for the Beastmorph, and I’ll give them a chance to surrender peacefully - and if they do, I’ll come back and set you free before your life support fails. Deal?”

He’d go for it. They always did. And Hannah would keep her promise. The look in this fascist’s eyes when she cracked open his cockpit and let local atmosphere rush in was always worth the wait. 

Hannah barely noticed something scamper off into the bushes and grinned. The Grex were low slung amphibious bipeds with a build somewhere between ape and dinosaur with the eyes of slugs. Personally, she hoped they would be the first to achieve communication with Earth. They were the kind of ugly that looped back around to being cute. 

Little did she know that she’d get that hope. The Grex had just begun playing with the concept of religion. This one would croak to his cluster of what he had witnessed. Those tales would spread to other Grex. They would spread across the world, and the story would come with them. One day, they would tell tales of the steel giants that waged war on their world. 

And they would remember the first of the Steel Wardens who had kept their world safe.

estrogenandspite: (Default)
Someone once told me a personal website is like a model train set, in that it's never really done and you work on it constantly in the hopes that someone will see it.

I now am starting to understand what they mean.

I haven't changed much on the front of end of my neocities yet, but I've been working on transporting old chosts over to the site just because there is a ticking clock on it. Short stories that weren't on Cohost and blog posts from my old blog will get moved over eventually as well, and I'll be posting them here as well (although trickling them out with each post so I don't just overwhelm y'all.) 

Anyway. I'm having fun with HTML and CSS in spite of barely understanding what I'm doing, and I'm now wishing I'd started this stuff sooner in life - but the second best time to plant a tree etc. etc. 
estrogenandspite: (Default)

So I think I went too far with my original plan to recreate Windows XP with in a website on a narrow timeframe. I'm working on that still as a long term project, but I'm also trying to set myself some more reasonable goals. I've used a template to redesign it, and will be working on both versions for a bit.

Also, the site needs "stuff." I'll be starting to actually port more of my old favorite chosts over to the site and to here and a few other places over the next few days. Think I'm going to divide it up stories, poetry, journal, ttrpgs, and special interests (which will include worldbuilding, speculative evolution/history nerding out, as well as just random infodumps about space and animals and magic) - feels like that covers the five main things I post about.

Question for those who *are* here - of those categories, what interests y'all the most? 

estrogenandspite: (Default)
One thing I've learned from Cohost is how much I hate Doomscrolling, and how vulnerable I am to it when I'm not on sites that allow it. To achieve this, I've decided to set a couple of rules for myself: 

A) Social media is for the Big Screen. No more on my phone mindless scroll. If I wanna be on social media? I have to sit up, at my desk.

B) I'm setting a 10 minute timer while on social media. If after 10 minutes I have not actually interacted with humans (likes don't count, it has to be I said something to another person or I made a new post for people to maybe respond to) I have to do something else.

C) The following is going to be my guideline for what to do (when I'm not hanging out with people and having fun):

1: Write.
If no energy for write
2: Edit
If no energy for edit
3: Code/Draw/Work on TTRPG/New Fun Skill
If no energy for Code/Draw/Work on TTRPG/New Fun Skill
4: Game
If no energy for game
5: Read
If no energy for read
6: TV show
If no energy for TV show
7: Youtube video essays/other passive 'watch and learn a thing' videos.
If no energy for video essays
8: Walk, drink water, eat food, shower to make sure addressing body needs
If no energy for self-care
9: I'm probably in a spiral, reach out to partners or friends for emotional support.
If no energy for reaching out
10: Nap. If nothing else is working, it's nap time.

So far I feel like I'm doing pretty good with it. I made a basic-ass website today and got it to look a bit like Windows XP!

Also yes, that feed box does automatically pull from the RSS feed integrated natively into Dreamwidth and should auto-update (It may take an hour or two to update, gonna use this blog post to keep an eye on it.)

a screenshot of a website showing a basic windows XP style layout.
estrogenandspite: (Default)

So initially I was not thrilled that Dreamwidth lacked some kind of like feature, but the more I think about it, the more I enjoy it.

Liking for me can become very mindless. "Yes, I saw this thing, and generally wish to show support in a vague way." It was borderline meaningless.

But here you have to comment, and I think that's good, actually. I got a comment from someone the other day that was just a heart emoji, and that felt more meaningful to me than the vast majority of likes I've ever gotten, even though it shares the same underlying meaning.

It's about the slight bit of effort put in. 

This might change over time if it starts to feel like I'm screaming into the void and no one's here to listen, but as long as comments are a thing I think I'll like this way of not having likes. 
estrogenandspite: (Default)
I have two pen names, one for action fantasy, one where I write smut for cis men that makes my money. The second project is, and will remain, purely mercenary. This is what pays the bills.

The other one also pays the bills, but that's mainly through my co-author projects there. My solo projects there have been...not updated in a long time.

And I'm going to. And when I do, I'm going to remember this: I have to write books where I have fun. I will be weird. I will write stories where dinosaurs fight dragons, or necromancers fight with meat mechs, or trans women punch gods. I will not think, "Is this to market?" I will think, "Does this make my inner child go 'fuck yeah!'?"

I will have fun with my action fantasy pen. I will be pulpy. I will be over the top. I will not be held back by my own fears anymore. I'll be authentic to who I am.

I will write books for me, and if I'm lucky, the readers who originally followed me because that's what I was doing will continue to do so.
estrogenandspite: (Default)
So I refuse to be ashamed that I started crying when my partner was kind to me, because I earned the right to be soft and because she makes me feel safe enough to let the tears flow.

I fought hard to be soft.

So I refuse to be ashamed I’m tearing up because my cat got scared and curled in my lap for comfort, because I know that means I’m safe and that means I kept my promise to never cause pain like I felt.

I fought hard to be soft.

So I refuse to be ashamed that at 37 I sleep curled up with a stuffed shark because I was told my whole life that was weakness but taking care of the basic need for comfort isn’t weakness it is just human.

I fought hard to be soft.

So I refuse to be ashamed that sometimes my relatively easy life can still be too much because I suffered so much the first 30 years of my life and healing takes time so sometimes it’s okay to cry over spilt milk.

I fought hard to be soft.

So I refuse to be ashamed of who I am, to be a hopeless romantic over the first woman to make me feel safe, to be a dork who sings even though she’s bad at it, to spoil my cats rotten because they deserve the best life I can give them.

I refuse to let a fear of being weak stop me from being soft.

I refuse to become hard and callous again.

I fought hard to be soft, and now that I feel like the wounds of years are closing, I’m finally allowing myself to actually be the person I fought to become.
estrogenandspite: (Default)
I'm here as someone without a my typical site to visit now that Cohost has closed down, like so many others. I'm going to do a lot of my initial posts by porting over my best posts from Cohost *and* from my old blog I ran from 2017-2021. (I'll probably eventually revive that WordPress account too, I've missed blogging.) Beyond that... I am going to do a game jam for TTRPG design, so I'll probably talk about that here, and I'm going to talk about my writing some as well.

I really want to use social media with more purpose than I have been. I want to avoid mindlessly scrolling for hours. I want to hold onto the healthy habits I've picked up. So posting somewhere that is a legacy of the old internet like this? Exactly the kind of place I need - although I will be posting elsewhere too. After cohost, I'm going to try not to get too invested in any one place.
estrogenandspite: (Default)
I'm picking up food for someone. I go to the address. It's a bland building in a strip mall with a logo printed on 8.5x11 and and taped to the window. There's three cars in the parking lot. There's no menu. Just a desk. I'm here to pick up the order for John. I'm given a bag that smells like it's full of deep fried ambrosia. I only briefly see the arm of the person handing it to me. No words are spoken.

I'm picking up food for someone. The restaurant is called Bait and Tackle. I pull up to a Hooters. Was the address wrong? No, the app tells me. It's in the Hooters. There's a restaurant hiding in the restaurant. I get a second order, for chicken, from a different restaurant. It's in the Hooters. I get a third order, for a beating heart, from a different restaurant. It's in the Hooters. I'm in the Hooters. I go deliver to an apartment. I drive for a half hour. I get to the apartment. It's in the Hooters.

I'm picking up food for someone. I go to the address. It's a grocery store. The delivery isn't for groceries. I go and ask the cashier where Tony's is. The cashier says "Let me help you" while their eyes say "run." I'm lead to the back. There's three tables here. The chairs are on the tables. They're locked in place. There's a window behind the tables. I hear sizzling. A voice asks who I'm picking up for. I give a name. The name is theirs now. I am given a brown bag by something I tell myself is a hand. It was not a hand. I tell myself it is. The bag is covered in grease stains. I tell myself the stains are grease. It was not grease.

I'm picking up food for someone. I go to the address. It's a home. Just a house. There's a sign in front. I wonder if this is safe or legal. I go to the front door. Do I go in? Do I knock? The mailslot opens. A voice asks me who I'm picking up for. It's the same voice. They've all had the same voice. I show them the name. There is a growl. Is that a dog? It is a house. It must be a dog. I'm given a brown bag through the mail slot. It's the same brown bag I left at the last house. My fingerprints are on it.

I'm picking up food for someone. The restaurant is called Burger Den. I pull up to a Denny's. Was the address wrong? No. It's in the Denny's. I go into the Denny's. It's another Hooters. I get a second order. It's for a sandwich from a place called Melt Down. It's in the Denny's. I get a third order. It's for a 𒂍𒀀𒉌𒀭𒈠𒋮 from a place called 𒂄𒄀. It's in the Denny's. I cancel the order. I'm ready to go home.

There's a brown bag on my doorstep. My name's on it. My fingerprints are on it. I gave a name. Did I give the customer's name or my own? I open the bag. My name's in it. I left it. They gave it back. I sigh in relief, and turn around.

I'm in the Denny's.

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