Agatha. Sleepy, queer, and potentialy cursed. I'm gonna level with you, I don't tag for shit or curate anymore because I'm pretty much only on mobile and this is more just a place for me to toss my own stuff or funnies I spot. If you want things I spent more than half a second on, you have to go to my artblog @agathaarts. Also you cannot @ me I turned notifications off the year I joined Tumblr and I will not turn them back on ever. You have to directly message me things if you want me to see them and hope I actually check messages more than once a week bye
Although yellow in color, the suntenna has features associated with black plants, particularly the hairlike microphyll leaves that interlock the way feathers do. The suntenna looks like a retrofuturistic spire crossed with a horsetail. Rings of descending size radiate from the stalk with the shadows cast by the top rings never overlapping the leafed portion of the lower rings. The plant seems to go out of its way to avoid casting a shadow on itself, while other plants utilize wind motion and darker pigment to make use of shaded foliage.
The leaves of black plants are filamentous and served by a single loop of vasculature. These are called microphyll leaves and are found on Earth in lycophytes, some ferns, and some gymnosperms, though their veins do not loop. Black plant leaves have barbules like those on a feather that can interlock with neighboring leaves and even neighboring fronds. They can assemble into structures resembling a complex leaf or hang independently like plume feathers. They can even form down for insulation in cold enviroments or for sun protection in exposed regions.
Suntennas usually angle themselves toward the sun and this is especially apparent in areas far from the substellar point. Plants growing near Ilion's terminator angle themselves to an extreme and have specialized structures for growing sideways.
Feather interlocking requires constant maintenence. Plants reproduce with haploid mobile offspring but these offspring can also be created as a worker caste. The mobiles of black plants are especially polymorphic. Males are adapted for flight or ballooning (in the case of suntennas and their relatives, by parachutes made of parental feathers), while females stay on the parent plant and are dispersed by animals. The workers of suntennas are about the size of grain mites and have claws specialized for parasite removal and feather preening.
The suntenna is my favorite alien plant. I wanted to call it “plantenna” but Alex refused to use that name in the official report so I offered this name instead. The suntenna can grow to twice the height of a person or one and a half times the height of Alex. When I get home I will use my interest money to buy a real house and commission a sculptor to make me a suntenna garden out of shaped metal. I will hang birdfeeders off their limbs so they can enjoy the company of creatures that have golden feathers just like theirs.
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I want to do more extensive bits and also get back to the smut eventually but. For now. Yvgeny spends a little time with his companions over those two weeks, makes some observations, and is observed in turn. Consider these some warm-ups as I try to remember how to actually write things long-form again.
Get Back Up
They get thirty seconds into sparring before Bethael “gently” deflects a blow for the first time, sending the chainsword flying as Yvgeny is knocked fully off his feet and halfway across the cage. When he hits the ground rolling it’s pure instinct that keeps his arms up over his head and lets momentum carry him another few meters before he comes to a stop, going still and catching his breath and biting back a whimper because he’s not sure if he’s popped a stitch or if it just hurts that much to have the wind knocked out of you after having your chest reconstructed into a mess of scar tissue.
Ow.
Either way, he doesn’t want to go back to the medic just yet. Not when he’s only just been cleared to be out, about, and active.
“Hm. Oops.” The Astartes snorts, unable to stop from smiling a little. “I suppose I must, ah. Calibrate for training with a mortal properly.”
“I would. Hh. Appreciate that, sir.” Yvgeny forces himself to take a breath that feels a bit like being punched in the chest from the inside out and braces a fist against the floor to lever himself up. Bethael watches with unerring intensity as he takes a few steps, wobbles, and then grits his teeth and goes to pick up the unactivated chainsword, moving to take position again. Mortals are fragile- the menials are like brittle twigs to any given Chaos Marine, and he usually doesn’t have to be careful of what limb he snaps or whose neck gets broken, but him…
“If you need time to recover-” Bethael starts, but Yvgeny give him a look filled with defiance in the face of embarrassment, and Bethael looks past the man- to the deep scores carved into the wall by his own training with Helbros. Getting knocked down again and again, the cutting pain of pity amidst the beating humiliation, it might be a stretch to call it empathy, but he understands. Understands, and feels a warm satisfaction that Yvgeny refuses to be afraid. “Ahh. Good.” Now he really grins, brass-plated shark-teeth gleaming as he crouches down to Yvgeny’s level. “Come now, strike me, little man! Like you mean it, this time!”
Yvgeny drops into a low stance, chainsword held before him, and breathes through his nose before charging forwards. He’ll get knocked down again. And again. And again. That’s all he does, isn’t it?
But fuck it. He gets back up.
---
Almost A Parade
Keeping up with Sefis is not so difficult- even with his long strides, he walks in a way Yvgeny would describe as ponderous, maybe. Or just steady. Probably for the better, as his slow but unyielding pace makes it easier to find he and Lucetrix, and keeps the walk alongside them downright comfortable compared to decades of forced marches. He only throws up the once, too, when he gets too close to the plumes of oily, befouled smoke from the censere, but neither Nurglite is at all put off.
If anything Lucetrix is a little too happy to pat his back, offering her (already stained) sleeve to wipe off his beard if need be.
"Lucetrix. Be gentle with the young one." Sefice does not pause in his walking, in his practiced motions, and the tone of his voice scarcely changes from the prayers. "You know the uninitiated are…sensitive, to their bodily functions."
"It's a lovely offer, though." Yvgeny reassures her in turn. "But I'm…good, for now. I'll just make sure to walk in front of this, ah, procession." It's small, a handful of menials and cultists meandering behind Sefice, the most devout of them positively basking in the smog.
Despite it all, the strangest part is knowing that it's for him. It would have felt rude to not at least make an appearance, to thank Sefice for his prayers (though Yvgeny still isn't sure how comfortable he is with his own name being uttered in such close proximity to Nurgle's) and now that he's here he's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling.
There was a joke, what felt like a lifetime ago amongst his peers in the guard, about joining up because you wanted a parade when you returned.
Knowing full well that you didn't come back. Nobody came back, nobody but generals and inquisitors and astartes. There was never a parade, nobody would speak your name or laude your accomplishments, no matter how long you held onto survival by your fingertips. There would never be enough time to recite all the names of the trillionfold dead alongside the living, anyways.
But this was a procession for him. Someone, for what feels like the first time, is thankful for his survival. He doesn't even mind that he can feel the ulterior motives everyone has draped over him.
It's almost as good as a parade.
---
Voices
He doesn't ask why Lyphos has two voices, and to be honest it's one of the less strange things about the sorcerer. There's the grandstanding figure, all cobalt armor and gold trim who crackles with completely unnecessary lightening (it was very impressive at first, but Yvgeny has quickly learned that the swirling gusts of wind, the sparks, the pomp and circumstance, it's just that. It's flash for the sake of flash) and then there's the voice in his head.
It's not that Lyphos has any less ego when he speaks to Yvgeny's mind, but maybe he simply has less need to show off. His fellow astartes are so far beyond human, Yvgeny reckons, that to someone like him…well, just being able to project one's thoughts so casually is impressive enough.
He never thought he'd be almost comfortable in the presence of witchcraft.
Almost.
Besides indulging his own curiosity, he feels this also gives the Demagogue something of a break. She seems…tense. He isn't sure he wants to know what she's struggling with, on top of Lyphos' attentions.
"When the gods see fit to intervene on your behalf, it is best not to doubt. Tzeench clearly has plans for you, should you survive long enough to see them to fruition!" The sorcerer turns where he stands, grandly, the cape pulled through the air almost catching Yvgeny- though he manages to step back just in time. The damn thing is heavy as a stage curtain and he's been caught by it once already and was sent staggering- before a telekinetic force stabilized him, leaving his skin prickling all along his back.
"So, you think that's what is wrapped around my, er, my soul?"
"Perhaps, perhaps! You may be fated for greater things, far more grand than your typical lesser stock-" when he gestures to a nearby technician who rolls their eyes, he doesn't seem to notice the disdain. Probably for the better. "-and who better to teach you, to guide you to such grand heights, than I? In the vastness of the galaxy, there is no room for coincidence, no simple random chance- not truly, no. All things that come about to bring change are part of the grand game, the eternal war!"
Maybe that's what makes it almost comforting. Yvgeny finds a seat and can stop, for once, thinking about what comes next, stop formulating disasters. He can listen. He's even learning a bit, between the grandstanding and the distractions whenever Lyphos suddenly needs to recall an epic battle long past or his time teaching, spinning into grand epics. Gives him plenty of time to light a low stick and get swept up in the growling, thunderous voice.
After a week, he doesn't even flinch when Lyphos, somehow, manages to speak to him while speaking to him after a particularly long day. The smoother, softer voice in the back of his head- he fancies it sounds organic, as strange as that is to consider.
Sit down, you fool. You're swaying on your feet and I won't have you passing out while I'm speaking to you.
He doesn't answer, just continues listening- and taking a seat in turn. He could swear, somehow, in the tilt of the elaborately decorated skull, there is something like pleasure.
---
Drink Deep
Yvgeny is already a bit drunk when he runs into Byzanti, who has emerged from the hangar where, frankly, all kinds of "fucked shit" (according to Bethael) is occuring and he surprises himself by how comradely he feels. Maybe because he hasn't seen Byzanti for several days. Maybe it's having seen Byzanti at his weakest, stripped of armor and filled with medical tubing, terrified of a future deprived of sensation or freedom, that makes him feel like he can understand something they share. Maybe it's that he found out some of the menials make a potent vodka out of mushrooms and tubers they farm somewhere on the Carcass.
And all it cost was a few low sticks.
"Do you even…I mean, sir, with the. The mouth." Yvgeny gestures to his own face. Even with Byzanti sitting down and himself perched up on a counter, he's still not even matching height. "How would you even drink?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? Doesn't it make for an intriguing mystery?" Byzanti is watching him too closely, giggling with delight, as if trying to enjoy some kind of secondhand buzz.
"...Do you just pour it through the vox?"
"May~be! I have many secrets." And he cackles. Yvgeny doesn't even feel annoyed. He waits for the peals of laughter to die down, takes a long swig (it doesn't taste good, it burns so bad his teeth itch, but his fingertips are already tingling so it must be good) and then holds the bottle out to Byzanti. He doesn't need to ask to get an answer, and it makes him feel smug. "...For me?"
"Don't finish it off. I only have the one, and I need it to last tonight. At least tonight." At least tonight, just until his chest stops itching and the thoughts stop feeling like stepping on broken glass.
Byzanti practically purrs as he takes the bottle in one huge, gloved hand, holding it with shockingly delicate care, and. True enough. Tips it back. The speaker embedded in his head sputters static, but the liquor goes somewhere and Yvgeny can hear him swallowing- and anyone anywhere nearby can hear the long, low, satisfied sigh that follows. "Oh. That is foul. I like it, ahahaha."
"Mm. I'll have to get another bottle for you, sir." Now that his hands are free, he pulls his dwindling pack of low sticks from a pocket and fumbles for a moment before he can get the lighter to spark. Between the smell of smoke and burn of alcohol, he might not be here, in this moment. Not really. His mind takes him to another time (another lifetime ago) and having a drink with comrades before getting shipped out. Some guardsman bar just like a million others, where everyone commiserated their imminent deployments and deaths together, swapping stories and smokes.
"You should get several. Then we can share properly! None of this rationing bullshit I'm sure the imperium forced on you!"
"Mm...that does sound nice." Yvgency exhales smoke lazily, and blinks his eyes open when cool glass touches his lip- finding that Byzanti is holding the bottle to his lips expectantly. He lets himself drink what's offered, and sinks back against the wall as Byzanti chatters at him. Almost comradely. Almost familiar.
He just has to drink deep to remember what it was like.
I WAS FUCKING WONDERING WHAT THOSE DIGITAL PRICE TAGS WERE ABOUT SUDDENLY i had hoped they were so the workers didn't have to finagle those little papers into the slider part anymore 😭
Hi, yes, that is the OFFICIAL excuse made to me by the guy replacing the paper tags with digital ones at my local Walmart, but the end goal is to remove the numbers off the shelf entirely, replacing them with QR codes that you have to scan with the app…. Which requires your login information….. and also stores your card information so even if you didn’t use your Walmart account at the physical checkout, if you used a card they recognize, they assign that purchase to your Walmart account purchase history.
I explained very clearly to the manager my issue with the meat section not having the price tags listed, and they claimed it was only going to be for the meat, since meat is by weight, and the price of each item is printed on the packs of each item.
Sure. That’s how they get their foot in the door. Fast forward not even two weeks, and here we are:
Bar codes. No prices, no item descriptions. No price stickers on the individual items. Heck, not even the name of the item that is SUPPOSED to be there.
No. The only way to see the price is to scan it on your phone app, which is also recording what you looked at recently, as a way of gauging what you might be looking for in the future.
So here’s what we’re gonna do gang:
Every time you go into a store that has implemented these price-less tags:
Take 1-3 items up to the cash register. Ask the cashier for the price, or hit the price check item on the self checkout, which will likely call over the attendant.
Express that you didn’t actually want it, you just couldn’t see on the shelf how much it was.
POLITELY, AND WITH A THANK YOU FOR THE PRICE CONFIRMATION, Give the items to the cashier or attendant to put back.
When they inevitably try to push the app, politely decline. If pressed for why not, say you don’t want to have to carry your phone in-hand the whole time you are shopping in order to see how much things cost. (Not having cell service or data to use the app is NOT a valid excuse, as stores already often have complimentary WiFi AND more stores will provide WiFi rather than give up on this push for surveillance pricing)
If it’s a shelf-stable item, the cashier will have to set it aside, taking up room in their limited operating space, and eventually pass it off to someone to put in a holding area to put back later. If it’s a fridge/freezer item, it might have to get tossed due to food product sale regulations.
In either case, you are making it a pain in the ass for them to have these digital bar codes. Tie up the checkouts. Give the employees more busywork that the company has to pay them to do. Hurt their bottom line having to toss the pint of ice cream you carried around in your cart for 20 minutes before giving it back to the cashier.
Yes, call your reps. Yes, push for more legislation like this in more places. But also take an extra minute out of your shopping trip to MAKE IT HURT for companies to pull this shit.
I've seen some people in the notes express (very fair) concern that this is only going to inconvenience already under-paid laborers, and not have any impact on corporate. While I can't speak for every company or every store, I do work in a grocery store and I can tell you this is precisely the kind of thing that would have an impact, especially if people are doing it en masse. Stores absolutely track their shrink numbers, and they do draw distinctions between what gets stolen, damaged, or wasted for other reasons. If people are making it clear that the reason they're bringing things to the cashier is that the prices are not adequately represented on the displays, and rather than improving business it's wasting product, slowing down transactions, and causing confusion and mistrust in customers, that is a language that shareholders speak.
I worked in retail for years. If this had happened while I was working retail, I would have been delighted and felt great solidarity with anyone who was wasting my employer's time and money and giving me busy work as an act of protest. In point of fact every moment the employee spends carting items back to the shelves is a moment not spent standing at a register.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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I've been absolutely (quietly) losing my mind at the Neon Odyssey /Stardust Rhapsody concepts, started watching Uproot-a-rama and got thinking about Xante (normally a Drow) as a Bitling (Soaring) and drew them as a warm-up.
Agatha Writes @agatharights - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
