#fifthdimensicn

The Dromer Wood was a comfortable and quiet sort of place, or so that had been the case for the last number of years that Arlequin had lived there. These woods were thick and large enough that they didn’t get much passage as it was easy to lose one’s way. They were also large enough that there were other paths that people would take, typically nothing too close to Arlequin’s own home. The weather was sunny and warm, but the covering of the redwoods made it cooler within the forest.

His hair had gone silver ages ago in the midst of all he had endured as a boy, though the man was somewhat thankful for it - at least the grey hairs wouldn’t show no matter how much stress Isabel put him through.

Right now, though, the girl was having a play date after school. Which left Arlequin alone until the next day when she was brought to the forest edge for him to collect her. He didn’t dare go too close to the human town regardless of what they knew about his existence. He could see how nervous most of them still were of him and he didn’t exactly blame them for it. Giants usually kept to themselves or other mystical creatures. Even if they didn’t interact with humans much it tended to go wrong when they did simply by virtue of their size. It didn’t help that Arlequin was a bit larger than most, though not by much. That was the elf in him, he supposed: they were tall creatures, combining it with giant genetics only emphasized it. Being part elf had also made him somewhat less stocky and more slender than many giants he’d come across.

In any case, a nice long walk had seemed in order. He didn’t much mind the way his steps shuddered the ground, he had long accepted that there wasn’t much he could do to avoid it though he certainly tried in the house when it was late, stepping as softly as he could to not wake Isabel. As he wandered his way through the trees, the sun played in steaks across him. Blue tunic, brown pants, boots leaving heavy impressions.

It's been a long long long journey.

The four years spent traveling from Tau Ceti to their homeworld had been brutal. Maybe not for them but for Grace, starvation had been an ominous shadow looming over him. It'd been horrible watching his body fail, slowly, bit-by-bit, because the Taumoeba just wasn't sufficient as a long-term food source. Too little nutrients that a human needs. And as much as Rocky would've been willing to share with him, Eridian food would only poison him.

They'd been afraid of the day when his lungs wouldn't fill with breath anymore, when his heart would stop beating in his chest, when they'd be left alone alone alone all over again.

But they've made it. They've made it home and brought back hope.

It'd been a bit messy at first, trying to establish communication between the Hail Mary and ground control and then explaining the situation. The answer to the astrophage eating their sun, Grace, his deteriorating condition. How he was just as responsible for saving both Earth and Erid as Rocky was.

Naturally there was some hesitation at first. But, eventually, arrangements were made. The best scientists planet-side would find an answer, both for his caloric needs and to make him a suitable, permanent living space. But that requires crossing a hurdle;

First contact.

At least for the rest of Erid, it would be. They'll have to make sure the scientists don't get too excited about Grace and his ship. No doubt, even with the circumstances, they'd be amazed amazed amazed.

"No training required for this," Rocky chirps, the translator giving his human-voice something of a confident tone. "Scientists come onboard, exchange information, help fix food problem, save Grace. Simple!"

They've gone over this with him already. It's an attempt at reassurance. But, after a quiet moment, they trill softly,

"...Rocky doesn't feel ready, either. To come home."

Even after docking, they haven't left Grace's side, let alone actually disembark from the ship. They know Adrian is waiting for them, ever-loving and patient. But what about the families of those who died on the Blip-A? They would want answers for what happened to their loved ones. Answers as to why only Rocky came home, and with an alien no less.

And they've spent so long alone, both with and without Grace, that the idea of seeing their own kind again is, admittedly, scary. But they both can't stay on the Hail Mary forever, and the scientists will have to come onboard eventually if they want to save Grace from starvation.

At least they'll have proper xenonite suits so that they won't have to roll around the place in glorified hamster balls (whatever those are anyway). They were courteous enough to make one for Rocky, leaving it in the docking airlock for them.

"Grace is bravest human Rocky knows. Brave brave brave. Will soon be bravest human Erid knows!"

CONFUSED STARTERS @fifthdimensicn

"I like to think that nice is my default," Susan explained, "but technically, I am on official business."

It was unclear to her yet why she in particular had been chosen to invite Dr. Grace, but she was happy for the opportunity. It afforded her a paid excursion that didn't include any extraterrestrial threat.

She produced from her pocket an oversized envlope, made large and sturdy enough that she could handle it without tearing. The papers inside were much more appropriately sized for the average human being. She knelt and handed it to Dr. Grace with a smile.

" Courage is finding the will to overcome your fear, nothing more, " said @fifthdimensicn

The Holy King considers this soldier before him. This man whom stands dutifully and proud with a jutting confidence cresting at his puffed breast. He layers one hand over the other, fingers entwining when he next considers his words with a wry, brittle chuckle.

" There ought to be a list of proverbs for lines like that. I swear I've heard it all, and their exponents, from knights like you in the same position as you, " Lothric said with a lift of his hood; magic shifting beneath the shadow when he looks upon Guardian.

He reeks of several godly influences. An amalgamation of many interfering hands hath graced him, streaking over the bend of his armor and along the length of his singular wing. Yet — none seemed to have stayed, passersby to this lone man; a borrowed valor proffered to him, but seldom taken, Lothric hazards to think.

The damning of it all wasn't so much the odd presence as it was the lack of known identity. There is no ash nor flame written into his soul. The King cannot sense the destiny of a dying smolder nor the stench of Chaos most repugnant on him. It is starlight, it is blood, then the profane burn of a heat so divine it is almost a madness.

send me a 🚩 and i’ll share my unpopular rpc opinions and hot takes.  bonus points if you include a specific topic to talk about, like follower count, softblocking, graphics, etc.

wow, okay!  this took me a lot longer to answer than i would’ve thought. nobody sent in topics ( which is okay! ) but without direction, my laidback attitude about everything ended up hurting me in the long run lmfao   but now i’m here!!  better late than never, eh?  tagging others who also sent in something, mainly because i’ve realized i’m chill and got nothing more to say than this it seems  @fifthdimensicn @lightburnsyou @techniiciian ( thank you for sending something!! )

i’ll preface this by saying i have nothing against anyone.   i am just a massive childhood star wars nerd, who basically learned english through the canon/legends movies, games, books, and writing fanfic etc.   so, i’m rather well read on star wars and have a tendency to be uhhh. autistic lol  stringent, for want of a better word, about the universe lore.   overall, i don’t care whether or not people agree; this is just a topic i lowkey struggle to understand yet see far too often.   why people willingly step into this paradox is beyond me!

anyway, if your muse is canonically a force-null in star wars, yet you create a serious, fleshed-out jedi verse for them, then i can’t help but think you don’t actually love your muse as much as you think you do.

of course, you’re totally allowed to have fun—i am not against fun; i’m actually all for breaking and bending verses to my will—and i understand getting bored with the same verses you’ve played in for years and years.   but when this reinterpretation becomes a serious endeavor—like, you’re really out here recontextualizing the entirety of star wars, including its characters, regardless of how ooc it would be to do so, just to fit this verse??   that’s where you lose me lol

for clarity: force nulls are simply people who are not outwardly force-sensitive, aka an individual who cannot consciously sense or interact with the force.   so, think han solo, padmé amidala, or even captain rex and the clones etc.   these are people who stand tall without the force, relying instead on their resourcefulness, resilience, and humanity.

i know the arguments.    i’m well aware some would argue that han and padmé could be considered “lowkey force-sensitive” in their own way, and i’m actually very inclined to agree—to a point.   these two do exhibit qualities that some might attribute to a higher-than-average midichlorian count: padmé’s marksmanship and her negotiation skills; han’s brilliant piloting and uncanny luck that often defies logic.   but yeah, that’s also the whole damn point—they’re exceptional because they lack the force, not in spite of it.

here, lemme use padmé as my primary example because i already know the concept of han being a jedi sounds absolutely absurd lol ( or at least it should if you know him at all 💀 )

let’s imagine a world where padmé is suddenly a jedi, wielding the force with all the grace of a trained knight.   it’s a pretty popular verse i’ve mostly seen outside of rp—and it’s utterly baffling to me.   sure, it’s an interesting twist, but it’s also a strange one.   why?  well, in my honest opinion: in making padmé overtly force-sensitive, you strip away everything that makes her outstanding.

she is extraordinary precisely because she isn’t outwardly force sensitive.  her ability to connect with people, her unparalleled empathy, and her deftness at negotiation are what sets her apart.  outward force sensitivity would rob her of these defining traits and generally diminishes her skillset—because the ability to sense emotions, to read others with an almost prescient understanding—is not a unique power, but rather one of the many force-given gifts jedi possess.  if padmé could sense others’ thoughts, how would her talents at diplomacy and empathy stand out?  just like that, what once set her apart would be merely an extension of the jedi arsenal.

the same applies to han!  this is why i’ve never written a force-sensitive han solo and likely never will.   his disbelief and distrust in anything he can’t see or feel for himself is paramount to his disposition / mentality as a character.   in the movies, he’s your taste of hard cynicism; he’s introduced as a reality check right after luke and ben’s floaty nonsense about the force.   ya feel me?   han solo is remarkable not because he’s imbued with mystical powers, but because he doesn’t have them.   he survives, thrives, and outsmarts the galaxy without supernatural powers to lean on.   to make han force-sensitive would be to strip away the very core of his character.

Picture of a young artist, not even close to half as famous as he could be for his art, and his cat, a peculiar creature of fur and of wit. To any old bystander, there is not much interesting with this odd pair... But today, they find themselves unwillingly transported into the Twilight Zone.

The day is October 2nd, 1959 and our pair of travelers find themselves entering an establishment off a long road, a fine hole-in-the-wall diner, of the sort with breakfast and with ice cream floats and milkshakes; the place where one might stop during their journey to a faraway destination - and far away have they indeed gone.

The bell above the door rang briefly as Dmitry pushed his way in. As always, he held the door open a moment longer, enough for Lisbeth to follow, before gently making sure it closed without interrupting any conversations. It did not take him long to notice that there were no conversations to interrupt, though.

In fact, it was eerily silent there.

The small cat explored silently, slinking between chairs and around corners expertly, tail raised to attention, ears listening intently. Dmitry, far less graceful, far more disaster, tried his best not to bump into tables, or chairs, or corners... but failed. He was just too distracted processing the fact that this looked straight out of an old movie. It was uncanny, really: tall glass bottles for soda, a large till with mechanical levers and wheels, and a distinct lack of... well, computers. Not a single flat-screen TV playing an obnoxious news or sports station to be seen, no "FREE WI-FI" sign, no pocket calculator nor digital speakers, no. None of that. This place seemed, if anything, to be untouched by time. Fascinating! But uncanny.

"Do you think they have pancakes?" He softly asked the cat, who was by now sitting at a bar stool, eyeing him as he looked around and frowned in confusion. Her reply was but a soft mew, neither affirmative nor negative. Then, suddenly, she hopped back onto the floor and hid away momentarily. Mere moments later, she appeared again, this time a young woman.

Mun talks about the Muse // @fifthdimensicn

i have consistently grappled with what fly traits to give melody and what not to. because i want to be accurate, i want to not feel like an insect enthusiast is going to bust down my door, but at the same time i’m comfortable with how she is now. you can argue that her simplicity has intent: she eases people into becoming more comfortable with and attached to flies. give her halteres and ocelli and the pair of legs she’s missing and all these other things and her design gets too cluttered, you would have to redesign her entirely to be realistic at that point, and i don’t want to personally! though i get frustrated at her lack of antennae probably the most. i can’t play with how her antennae move and react to odors and scents, and for an insect character, at times that feels like something is pivotally missing.