Idea for an original plot that could possibly be adapted to a fanfiction...to be honest, I want to wrie more original stories, but with the death of Fictionpress, I don't know where to go :( Maybe Lj....
Idea: OC1 plays as the teenage son/daughter (won't lie, I'm leaning towards son) on a family sitcom, and falls in love with/starts an affair with the actor who plays the father.
That's the jist of it. Just didn't want to not put it anywhere and forget about it, and that's what this account is for, ain't it? ;D I wish there was a manga with that plot though, so, so badly. It's would be tons of smut and the seme feeling up a dubious uke in public, during filming...and another cast member would find out and purely by "coincidence" he's got a thing for uke!actor, and trys to blackmail him, and out of norwhere this older actor that used to do a show with seme!actor wants to restart their own little affair. Shit. Does anyone know the mailing address for a yaoi mangaka? XD
I am ashamed to report that I got this idea while watching the Cosby Show *beats head* Going no farther in that direction, I promise. Ew.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Icidax's Story, Untitled, chpt. 1
Chapter I
"Dawa…"
"I'll be fine Dax." The man smiled, rubbing a hand over the small girl’s hair. He was dressed for the outdoors, in thick clothing and hard leather boots. "We'll cap the spore and be back before supper- you wait and see."
Icidax wiggled uncomfortably. She knotted in her hands in a too-large sweater and rocked back and forth on her heels. "But…but Matte says there are monsters in the Rest!"
"Don’t chew on your lip, and please don’t worry. There’ll be five of us. Mchara," Dargen suddenly looked over his daughter, to where a brown haired, heavily pregnant woman stood with her hands crossed over her stomach.
"Mm?"
"Don't let her stress. Either of them. Donner’s already found the thing’s trail; he’s waiting for us now. It really won’t take very long.” He kissed the woman and pulled a bow from behind the door. A quiver was strung from his belt, filled with arrows fletched with bright orange feathers.
A hunter’s knife hung beside it.
Icidax flinched at the sound of the door closing behind him.
Mchara guided her away with a hand on her back, scowling gently. "Daxie, you should know
better than to listen to everything Matte says."
"But I heard her talking to Cloan about it, and he wouldn't have listened to her if she was spinning…"
"Spinning? Who's spinning?" Dax's older shisrei called from the kitchen, leaning back to see through the door. She held a half-peeled fruit in her one visible hand.
"You are! Spinning a tale!"
"No yelling inside. Matte, in here. Time for reading."
"Aw, but Mema…"
"No buts, hike it."
It had gotten darker than they had expected, but the spore’s trail shone gold in the light from Donner’s bottle. It held a mixture of a few mystery powders, water and milk, and produced a cool blue glow.
"Yvan's son was possessed last night. Sonye here managed to boot the thing, but it leapt straight for Marina’s gob soon as it was out of the boy."
"We'll find it. The trail is too strong for it to get away." Dargen squinted into the trees.
"You’re telling me." Sonye mumbled, from behind Caun. "Bright as a bullam sludge's, it is. That thing's got no chance…-"
A hoarse giggle drifted to the men’s ears. The five froze.
They had been traversing the Northern Rest together since they were boys; they could almost read each other’s minds. In the space of a breath, each held arrow drawn and faced a different direction, waiting.
Dargen's eyes narrowed. He could see his own breath, coming out in puffs. Suddenly it was so cold… "That was no a spore." He observed quietly, unnecessarily.
“No no no, not a puffy, no no.” A light, curling voice drifted from the treetops.
The temperature plummeted.
“’Chainers are famed for their talents with secrets and riddles. They live in the nooks and crannies of Congress, usually in solitude, but occasionally in pairs. While their arms are normally proportioned, chainers stand to a man’s waist on brittle, twig legs as long as their chests and heads. Their fingers are long, and perfect for quick swipes that leave deep scratches, prone to infection. Some men say that the secrets of Congress are sheltered in the head of a chainer somewhere.”
Matte looked up from the heavy, canvas bound book in her lap. “Mema, I’ve read this chapter before. May I read another?”
Mchara hummed her approval. The rocker she sat in creaked every time it tipped back.
Matte flipped a few pages, and smiled when she found the chapter she wanted.
“’Barets were created under the Ewol King’s rule by the infamous pair, Dardin and Luis in 2 E.e. They are omnivorous, bipedal beasts and are capable of intelligent speech. Since their escape from captivity with the conclusion of the Minetown Conflict, they have successfully bred into few ecosystems. Commonly found living in groups of six to eleven in the extremes of the world’s climates, their groups are called cliques, and usually led by a male.’
“’Skin colors range from dark brown, to white, to black. Their hair is their greatest failing, as the bright blue color makes it very difficult to sneak up on their prey. Groups in hotter regions have taken to smearing black mud in their hair to hide the color. A healthy baret is identified by angry red marks on its face, neck, stomach, legs, and fingers.’”
She bent backwards until her back popped, and gave a pleasured sigh. “I’m done,”
“Pass the book to your shisrei."
Matte obliged. The book dwarfed the younger girl; her arms trembled with the effort to lower it to the floor. She thought for a moment, and locating her page, began to read.
“’Spores are parasitic creatures with no corporal form of their own. Without a host they are helpless, and cannot survive; they do not even have the power to eat or absorb their own energy. They position themselves to be breathed into the lungs, and may take anywhere from a few days, to multiple years to completely overtake a host. Once they have, though, they are impossible to expel from the body.’
“’Spores without a host look like small clouds of pollen in the air. Once they gain a body, they inherit the abilities of the host. In the case of a human, they are able to speak, to learn, and to procreate.’”
Dax trailed off, running a finger down the page solemnly.
"I think that's enough, children.” Mchara sighed, gently lifting her bulk from the protesting chair.
“Supper's almost ready…” She peered worriedly out the window, but the darkness was too thick. “…shiizor. Where is your father?"
Dax's eyes went wide with fear. "He said he'd be back by supper."
Mchara rolled her lips between her teeth. Suddenly she squinted and leaned into the glass, pressing a palm against the cool surface. "What in the Great Wone's name…"
Something crashed against the front door. The handle rattled once and again, harder. Mchara stretched from her position and released the lock with a fingertip.
Matte jumped in her seat. "Cloan!"
A boy Matte’s age fell into the house, still clinging to the door, bracing himself against it.
“Something happened,” He panted, a thread of urgency in his voice.
Matte darted forward to support him. She stammered. "Happened…? Clo, what do you mean?"
He clutched Matte’s shoulders and tried to stand. “Shiizor, Matte…”
Icidax chewed on the minki root fiercely, as if the juice filling her mouth would spin the Great Wone’s time-key backwards, bring her father and the others back.
The people of Brjzok were gathered on the bank of Menoa River, watching silently as twelve widows and one newly-orphaned son abandon their husbands’ (and father’s) possessions to the
speeding waters.
Mchara had given her the tangy plant so she wouldn’t cry. It wasn’t right to cry at funerals, especially ones like this, when others who had lost people as well. Matte had been given a piece of root too, though she had refused it until she thought Dax wasn’t looking. She must have already finished hers; Dax could see the shining line of wet under her right eye.
Cloan held Matte’s hand when Mchara took her turn, dropping one item at a time, and Matte held Dax’s.
Cloan’s mother had died two years before; the times coming would not be easy for him.
Dax thought that her sister’s tears were as much for their friend as their father.
Brjzok was an isolated village, and did not receive change well. The townsfolk were governed by many superstitions that were no longer honored by the people of Congress. One such belief was that crying during funerals confused the soul of the deceased, and left them unable to reach the afterealm. Another stated that orphaned children became as they were because greater things were decided for them, and they must leave. If Cloan did not run from Brjzok before the end of the week, the people would begin taking apart his family’s home, brick by brick.
“Don’t go, don’t leave…you can stay with us. Mema will let you.”
Icidax woke the night after the funeral. Her sister’s frantic whispers filled the dark.
“Matte, please don’t make this harder for me. I’ll see you, I swear. I…shiizor. Look.”
She heard Cloan digging through his pockets. Something reflected the moonlight on the wall.
Matte gasped. She was having trouble keeping her voice low. “You! You didn’t! Cloan, why do
you have that? It should be in the river! Where it belongs!”
“Keep your voice down, for Wone’s sake, Matte!”
“But Sonye will never pass on! He’ll never pass on and he’ll wander around blind and dumb and deaf and it will be your fault-“
“Don’t tell me you actually believe that shinen? Dawamat’s ghost will make it the afterealm as sure as Dargen’s will.”
Matte sobbed. “You’re right, but not in the way you think. I cried, Clo, I cried, and now-“
“Stop.”
Dax watched at the shadows of her shisrei and their midnight visitor. Cloan’s spine had gone stiff, and his shoulders squared. It was a position he took when he was angry, but she’d never seen him take it with her sister…
“But Clo…no. No! Don’t leave, please-“
“I have to, Matte. You want me too anyway.”
“What do you mean by that? Cloan! Clo!” Matte suddenly rose from her pallet, tripping over Dax in her hurry to reach the window he had disappeared through. She heard Cloan’s heavy steps leading away from the house over Matte’s panicked calls. “Don’t!”
“Matte! What-?” Mchara was on the stairs, one hand on the rail and the other lifting a lighted lantern. The look on her face was of utter bewilderment. Matte ignored her, and screamed out the open window as tears flowed steadily. Lights appeared in the windows of houses across town, and Mchara tried to quiet her hysterical child. Dax slipped quietly from her pallet, and escaped down the stairs in the confusion. She ran to a tree by the village gate and climbed up hastily, ignoring the scratchy bark that snatched at her clothes and skin. The leaves settled just as Cloan walked under the tree.
“Cloan…” She mewed, and immediately went very still. She hadn’t meant to call to him.
He stopped short and looked up.
“Ici,” Cloan answered hoarsely. “Why are you awake?”
“Eto…”
“Go home, and go to sleep. It’s too late for you to be outside.”
Dax pressed her cheek against the bark shyly.
“I heard you talking…”
The look in his eyes softened, and he stepped beneath her and turned his face up.
“You did, did you?”
“Yes…you are…leaving us?”
“I am.”
“Do you promise to see us again?” Dax reached down, stretched her arm so maybe her fingers
would brush the top of his head, but she was too far up.
Cloan smiled miserably and took her hand in his. “I promise, Ici, I do. Maybe we’ll even live together.”
“Matte…as well?” She swung her arm gently, prompting his to follow.
He seemed to hesitate. He smiled again. “Yes. Matte as well.”
“Well, if you promise…I give you good fortune. Rap, rap.” She released his grip quickly and tapped the back of his hand twice.
Cloan was shocked. “That’s your fortune, Ici, don’t give it to me!”
“I’ll be all right,” she reassured him. She tucked her arm underneath her so he couldn’t sneak and give it back. “I’ve got Mema, and Matte, even if Dawa is gone…You’re the one who needs it.
Use it to keep your promise, and I will never miss it.”
“Ici…” His eyes shone wetly.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
So, this is chapter one of Icidax's story! It doesn't have a titled yet, but I've been working on the plot a bit, and rearranging characters and stuff...I've got to update the information in that one post...
"Dawa…"
"I'll be fine Dax." The man smiled, rubbing a hand over the small girl’s hair. He was dressed for the outdoors, in thick clothing and hard leather boots. "We'll cap the spore and be back before supper- you wait and see."
Icidax wiggled uncomfortably. She knotted in her hands in a too-large sweater and rocked back and forth on her heels. "But…but Matte says there are monsters in the Rest!"
"Don’t chew on your lip, and please don’t worry. There’ll be five of us. Mchara," Dargen suddenly looked over his daughter, to where a brown haired, heavily pregnant woman stood with her hands crossed over her stomach.
"Mm?"
"Don't let her stress. Either of them. Donner’s already found the thing’s trail; he’s waiting for us now. It really won’t take very long.” He kissed the woman and pulled a bow from behind the door. A quiver was strung from his belt, filled with arrows fletched with bright orange feathers.
A hunter’s knife hung beside it.
Icidax flinched at the sound of the door closing behind him.
Mchara guided her away with a hand on her back, scowling gently. "Daxie, you should know
better than to listen to everything Matte says."
"But I heard her talking to Cloan about it, and he wouldn't have listened to her if she was spinning…"
"Spinning? Who's spinning?" Dax's older shisrei called from the kitchen, leaning back to see through the door. She held a half-peeled fruit in her one visible hand.
"You are! Spinning a tale!"
"No yelling inside. Matte, in here. Time for reading."
"Aw, but Mema…"
"No buts, hike it."
It had gotten darker than they had expected, but the spore’s trail shone gold in the light from Donner’s bottle. It held a mixture of a few mystery powders, water and milk, and produced a cool blue glow.
"Yvan's son was possessed last night. Sonye here managed to boot the thing, but it leapt straight for Marina’s gob soon as it was out of the boy."
"We'll find it. The trail is too strong for it to get away." Dargen squinted into the trees.
"You’re telling me." Sonye mumbled, from behind Caun. "Bright as a bullam sludge's, it is. That thing's got no chance…-"
A hoarse giggle drifted to the men’s ears. The five froze.
They had been traversing the Northern Rest together since they were boys; they could almost read each other’s minds. In the space of a breath, each held arrow drawn and faced a different direction, waiting.
Dargen's eyes narrowed. He could see his own breath, coming out in puffs. Suddenly it was so cold… "That was no a spore." He observed quietly, unnecessarily.
“No no no, not a puffy, no no.” A light, curling voice drifted from the treetops.
The temperature plummeted.
“’Chainers are famed for their talents with secrets and riddles. They live in the nooks and crannies of Congress, usually in solitude, but occasionally in pairs. While their arms are normally proportioned, chainers stand to a man’s waist on brittle, twig legs as long as their chests and heads. Their fingers are long, and perfect for quick swipes that leave deep scratches, prone to infection. Some men say that the secrets of Congress are sheltered in the head of a chainer somewhere.”
Matte looked up from the heavy, canvas bound book in her lap. “Mema, I’ve read this chapter before. May I read another?”
Mchara hummed her approval. The rocker she sat in creaked every time it tipped back.
Matte flipped a few pages, and smiled when she found the chapter she wanted.
“’Barets were created under the Ewol King’s rule by the infamous pair, Dardin and Luis in 2 E.e. They are omnivorous, bipedal beasts and are capable of intelligent speech. Since their escape from captivity with the conclusion of the Minetown Conflict, they have successfully bred into few ecosystems. Commonly found living in groups of six to eleven in the extremes of the world’s climates, their groups are called cliques, and usually led by a male.’
“’Skin colors range from dark brown, to white, to black. Their hair is their greatest failing, as the bright blue color makes it very difficult to sneak up on their prey. Groups in hotter regions have taken to smearing black mud in their hair to hide the color. A healthy baret is identified by angry red marks on its face, neck, stomach, legs, and fingers.’”
She bent backwards until her back popped, and gave a pleasured sigh. “I’m done,”
“Pass the book to your shisrei."
Matte obliged. The book dwarfed the younger girl; her arms trembled with the effort to lower it to the floor. She thought for a moment, and locating her page, began to read.
“’Spores are parasitic creatures with no corporal form of their own. Without a host they are helpless, and cannot survive; they do not even have the power to eat or absorb their own energy. They position themselves to be breathed into the lungs, and may take anywhere from a few days, to multiple years to completely overtake a host. Once they have, though, they are impossible to expel from the body.’
“’Spores without a host look like small clouds of pollen in the air. Once they gain a body, they inherit the abilities of the host. In the case of a human, they are able to speak, to learn, and to procreate.’”
Dax trailed off, running a finger down the page solemnly.
"I think that's enough, children.” Mchara sighed, gently lifting her bulk from the protesting chair.
“Supper's almost ready…” She peered worriedly out the window, but the darkness was too thick. “…shiizor. Where is your father?"
Dax's eyes went wide with fear. "He said he'd be back by supper."
Mchara rolled her lips between her teeth. Suddenly she squinted and leaned into the glass, pressing a palm against the cool surface. "What in the Great Wone's name…"
Something crashed against the front door. The handle rattled once and again, harder. Mchara stretched from her position and released the lock with a fingertip.
Matte jumped in her seat. "Cloan!"
A boy Matte’s age fell into the house, still clinging to the door, bracing himself against it.
“Something happened,” He panted, a thread of urgency in his voice.
Matte darted forward to support him. She stammered. "Happened…? Clo, what do you mean?"
He clutched Matte’s shoulders and tried to stand. “Shiizor, Matte…”
Icidax chewed on the minki root fiercely, as if the juice filling her mouth would spin the Great Wone’s time-key backwards, bring her father and the others back.
The people of Brjzok were gathered on the bank of Menoa River, watching silently as twelve widows and one newly-orphaned son abandon their husbands’ (and father’s) possessions to the
speeding waters.
Mchara had given her the tangy plant so she wouldn’t cry. It wasn’t right to cry at funerals, especially ones like this, when others who had lost people as well. Matte had been given a piece of root too, though she had refused it until she thought Dax wasn’t looking. She must have already finished hers; Dax could see the shining line of wet under her right eye.
Cloan held Matte’s hand when Mchara took her turn, dropping one item at a time, and Matte held Dax’s.
Cloan’s mother had died two years before; the times coming would not be easy for him.
Dax thought that her sister’s tears were as much for their friend as their father.
Brjzok was an isolated village, and did not receive change well. The townsfolk were governed by many superstitions that were no longer honored by the people of Congress. One such belief was that crying during funerals confused the soul of the deceased, and left them unable to reach the afterealm. Another stated that orphaned children became as they were because greater things were decided for them, and they must leave. If Cloan did not run from Brjzok before the end of the week, the people would begin taking apart his family’s home, brick by brick.
“Don’t go, don’t leave…you can stay with us. Mema will let you.”
Icidax woke the night after the funeral. Her sister’s frantic whispers filled the dark.
“Matte, please don’t make this harder for me. I’ll see you, I swear. I…shiizor. Look.”
She heard Cloan digging through his pockets. Something reflected the moonlight on the wall.
Matte gasped. She was having trouble keeping her voice low. “You! You didn’t! Cloan, why do
you have that? It should be in the river! Where it belongs!”
“Keep your voice down, for Wone’s sake, Matte!”
“But Sonye will never pass on! He’ll never pass on and he’ll wander around blind and dumb and deaf and it will be your fault-“
“Don’t tell me you actually believe that shinen? Dawamat’s ghost will make it the afterealm as sure as Dargen’s will.”
Matte sobbed. “You’re right, but not in the way you think. I cried, Clo, I cried, and now-“
“Stop.”
Dax watched at the shadows of her shisrei and their midnight visitor. Cloan’s spine had gone stiff, and his shoulders squared. It was a position he took when he was angry, but she’d never seen him take it with her sister…
“But Clo…no. No! Don’t leave, please-“
“I have to, Matte. You want me too anyway.”
“What do you mean by that? Cloan! Clo!” Matte suddenly rose from her pallet, tripping over Dax in her hurry to reach the window he had disappeared through. She heard Cloan’s heavy steps leading away from the house over Matte’s panicked calls. “Don’t!”
“Matte! What-?” Mchara was on the stairs, one hand on the rail and the other lifting a lighted lantern. The look on her face was of utter bewilderment. Matte ignored her, and screamed out the open window as tears flowed steadily. Lights appeared in the windows of houses across town, and Mchara tried to quiet her hysterical child. Dax slipped quietly from her pallet, and escaped down the stairs in the confusion. She ran to a tree by the village gate and climbed up hastily, ignoring the scratchy bark that snatched at her clothes and skin. The leaves settled just as Cloan walked under the tree.
“Cloan…” She mewed, and immediately went very still. She hadn’t meant to call to him.
He stopped short and looked up.
“Ici,” Cloan answered hoarsely. “Why are you awake?”
“Eto…”
“Go home, and go to sleep. It’s too late for you to be outside.”
Dax pressed her cheek against the bark shyly.
“I heard you talking…”
The look in his eyes softened, and he stepped beneath her and turned his face up.
“You did, did you?”
“Yes…you are…leaving us?”
“I am.”
“Do you promise to see us again?” Dax reached down, stretched her arm so maybe her fingers
would brush the top of his head, but she was too far up.
Cloan smiled miserably and took her hand in his. “I promise, Ici, I do. Maybe we’ll even live together.”
“Matte…as well?” She swung her arm gently, prompting his to follow.
He seemed to hesitate. He smiled again. “Yes. Matte as well.”
“Well, if you promise…I give you good fortune. Rap, rap.” She released his grip quickly and tapped the back of his hand twice.
Cloan was shocked. “That’s your fortune, Ici, don’t give it to me!”
“I’ll be all right,” she reassured him. She tucked her arm underneath her so he couldn’t sneak and give it back. “I’ve got Mema, and Matte, even if Dawa is gone…You’re the one who needs it.
Use it to keep your promise, and I will never miss it.”
“Ici…” His eyes shone wetly.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
So, this is chapter one of Icidax's story! It doesn't have a titled yet, but I've been working on the plot a bit, and rearranging characters and stuff...I've got to update the information in that one post...
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Medna Terscha Kirio, Tera Moeh, and Rsco Loun =)
These three are brand spanking new! I thought them up in the shower about half an hour ago, and decided that I really love their design and wanna keep em! First up is Medna~
Medna Terscha Kirio
height- 5'9"
eyes- one mostly yellow and slitted, and one normal blue
hair- long, almost all the way down her back, shades of lighter green in evergreen, a snatch of red next the her face. She usually wears it in a bun-kind of thing on the back of her head, with part of it loose
ability- the palm of her left hand is slick silver, and she can make weapon-like things from it, usually a slim sword, knife, or rod.
build- tall and slim, muscled, atheletic
job- Luteinant General in the Koniptian army under Emporess Salzara
Terscha (which is what she goes by mostly) is in a romantic relationship with Rsco and Tera, and she had two of their five kids. She is a moe, or mutt.
Tera Moeh
height- 5'7.8"
eyes- black/dark brown
hair- black. Cut just above her shoulders, with two clumps that reach the bottom of her shoulder blades
ability- dunno yet! Something to do with her voice?
job- working on it!
Ditto first and third sentence, had 3/5 kids ^^
Rsco Loun
height- 6'2"
eyes- lupine yellow. Scar diagonal across right eyebrow.
hair- white
ability- dooonn''tttt kkknnnoowww~
job- some rank above Terscha's in the army
Husband of two very sexy moes ^^ Have very little of his or Tera's personalitys, and no idea where/when they'll all appear.
This is here because I don't want to forget! And I wanna draw these three sooooo badly, but I'll screw it up....*cry*
Buhbye!
Medna Terscha Kirio
height- 5'9"
eyes- one mostly yellow and slitted, and one normal blue
hair- long, almost all the way down her back, shades of lighter green in evergreen, a snatch of red next the her face. She usually wears it in a bun-kind of thing on the back of her head, with part of it loose
ability- the palm of her left hand is slick silver, and she can make weapon-like things from it, usually a slim sword, knife, or rod.
build- tall and slim, muscled, atheletic
job- Luteinant General in the Koniptian army under Emporess Salzara
Terscha (which is what she goes by mostly) is in a romantic relationship with Rsco and Tera, and she had two of their five kids. She is a moe, or mutt.
Tera Moeh
height- 5'7.8"
eyes- black/dark brown
hair- black. Cut just above her shoulders, with two clumps that reach the bottom of her shoulder blades
ability- dunno yet! Something to do with her voice?
job- working on it!
Ditto first and third sentence, had 3/5 kids ^^
Rsco Loun
height- 6'2"
eyes- lupine yellow. Scar diagonal across right eyebrow.
hair- white
ability- dooonn''tttt kkknnnoowww~
job- some rank above Terscha's in the army
Husband of two very sexy moes ^^ Have very little of his or Tera's personalitys, and no idea where/when they'll all appear.
This is here because I don't want to forget! And I wanna draw these three sooooo badly, but I'll screw it up....*cry*
Buhbye!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Idea on my phone
My cousins' grandpa was checked into the hosipital a little while ago, and one day when mom was visiting him, I was reading a book in a nearby waiting room and heard this loud bang through the wall. I got an idea and put it down in my cell phone; here it is ^^
Girl/Boy in hosipital waiting room hears thumps coming from the room on the otherside of the wall. Goes to check it out, sees supernatural things wrestling...has insomnia and strange dreams, itchy eyes...?
Girl/Boy in hosipital waiting room hears thumps coming from the room on the otherside of the wall. Goes to check it out, sees supernatural things wrestling...has insomnia and strange dreams, itchy eyes...?
Things that make SPARKS in my brain...
BlOOD IN THE wATER
...(like oxygen)
cowboy on a steel horse. (done, I know, but it's still an awesome visual)
---
May add to later, picked up from random places; conversations, forums, icons etc.
...(like oxygen)
cowboy on a steel horse. (done, I know, but it's still an awesome visual)
---
May add to later, picked up from random places; conversations, forums, icons etc.
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