trycks treats 🦩

trycks treats 🦩

(OOC) 1 month ago

nonbinary

love yourself

@glaringActuality[GA]

// posting again but this time as plaintext instead of a link (the link has the right italics though if you care about that) If asked, Trycks — Filigree Hallowen, Esq., actually, unless you're encountering her in the uniquely casual environment of social media, or are one of its small handful of friends — is entirely willing to admit that there are things he doesn't know. Star is not particularly fond of the fact, but knowing literally everything is a blatantly impossible endeavor, and it would be a little silly to bluff about. Sev would, however, immediately add a caveat that she does know everything that particularly matters. Beyond the obvious bravado of the statement, even in a genuine enough mood to read that onto the record with a "just about" or "probably" thrown in there rather than a simply-stated point of order or smug disclaimer, there is a lingering understanding that this is (blatantly) impossible. But beneath that, at the innermost layer, Trycks (you may as well be one of its friends) thinks this is more true than not. It certainly feels true. Trycks knows just about everything there is to know about Troll Magic: the Gathering, everything that matters about practicing legislaceration in stars jurisdiction, and has all sorts of interesting trivia to share about all sorts of things… alright, maybe it would be more efficient to list things that matter that Trycks doesn't know. 1. There is a space station orbiting the surface of the harsh Alternian sun. The Alternian Empire has been conducting a series of expirements on a series of stars, but this was the most important for a list of reasons that someone unimportant had to notarize. The experiments themselves don't actually matter, but the fallout certainly does. 2. There is a reactor core on that station. This is where things get dicey. That reactor core uses the psionic energy of dozens of helmsmen to collect power from the sun's core and convert it into enriched uranium, which is then used to power the station and shipped to Imperial outposts on the homeplanet and every Violet-class vessel in the quadrant. 3. Two perigrees ago, this timeline split off from the Alpha timeline. For Trycks - who, let the record reflect, is agnostic to the concept of Sgrub and not very interested in it at all - this has had very minimal impact on sevens life. But some doomed timelines simply collapse and wither over time, and some go out with a bang. 4. Two perigrees ago, the firewall on the station systems broke down. This was the beginning of a chain of events that will lead to the premature death of every star in this universe, starting with the one orbited by Alternia. Even now, top scientists in a very discreet branch of the Imperial Fleet's Bureau of Astrophysics are trying to analyze the potential consequences the imminent first pseudo-supernova will have on the rest of the immediate surrounding galaxy. They're trying to find a version of events where the supernovae are containable, where not everything will be destroyed. Suicide rates among the Imperial Fleet's Bureau of Astrophysics have begun to spike, and will reach 87.5% in the coming sweep before stabilizing at a solid 30% up until the very end, when the last stragglers all get very drunk together on a meteor base with a perfect view. Per protocol, the Mother Grub has already been discreetly escorted off planet. Issuing the order to do so simultaneously felt like giving up and being completely naive. 5. Trycks, and everyone else on the planet of Alternia, has somewhere between six and twelve minutes left to live. Some will boil in the sopor of their recuperacoons, and most of those will awaken to feel it. Some are deep enough underwater or underground to survive the first several waves of overwhelming nuclear heat, but the planet itself will be entirely incinerated very shortly after. The atmosphere itself will catch ablaze, first, a fascinating visual spectacle for the handful of individuals with a good view from far enough away that they'll live long enough to see it. -- page break -- That list could stretch on much longer - Trycks would certainly prefer that if such a list be defined at all it at least ends at lucky number seven - but it's dishonest to, in the face of the end of all things, consider anything else at all to matter. The trolls who would leak any real information from the particularly discreet branch of the Bureau of Astrophysics are cut off at the pass and made an example of in front of their peers. Civilian astronomers, however, have also noticed the shift in color of the sun and what appears to be some type of rapid expansion. These civilians — hobbyists, really — have tried to warn other trolls out of the kindness of their pusher and in the desperate hope someone can prove them wrong. Well, Trycks knows better than to look at the sun, has never bothered to invest in the sort of equipment that would be required to do it safely, and trusts the Alternian Empire to at least vaguely have its people's best interests at heart. And the Empire has bee nsummarily and quickly executing the trolls spreading the rumors publicly, and their online presences are completely scrubbed within minutes. So it must be nothing. Star is trying not to worry about it. After all, really, if the sun was going to do something weird, surely she would know. Surely. Trycks is walking home from work. It took the train in tonight instead of driving, figuring that the weather was pleasant enough to warrant it. (The night is unseasonably bright, even this close to dusk). There are a handful of other people on the sidewalk, and most seem nervous in a way that Trycks quietly looks down on them for. She enjoys the last shred of dignity that star will ever feel as a living troll by straightening sevens back and hardening its face. Then the sky washes impossibly, blindingly blue, and there's no more room for denial. Or dignity. Or a brave face at the end. Only a belated, distant-seeming realization with no time to process it. Everyone dies alone, metaphorically. Trycks is about to do so iterally: staring up at the sky in numbness that gives way to abject horror, accompanied by nothing but the screams of the other nearby trolls trying to flee from the world around them. It stands stone-still in the cacophany as the surrounding trolls attempt to get indoors, underground, anywhere at all. There isn't time to get to his hive, or to anyone else's. Trycks, so rarely struck dumb, and perhaps never before this ever struck speechless, does not have the wherewithal of mind to open his palmhusk and say goodbye. To decide between texting as many loved ones as possible or focusing everything on calling just one. To do anything but stare through tears. Trycks looks up at the sky. Trycks looks up at the sky. Trycks looks up at the sky. It still doesn't feel real. Then she experiences warmth. Unpleasant, unnatural after a beautiful night of cool breezes. Then painful. Then very painful. Trycks looks up at the sky. Then those tears boil and his gazebulbs pop, burning the sockets with melted viscera. Things end pretty quickly after that.

trycks treats 🦩

(OOC) 1 month ago

nonbinary

love yourself

@glaringActuality[GA]

// hi guys there's not really a way to post this ic but. lore dropppp https://ellipsus.com/read/6wZWNTUIDhrBmJBG96coMn/a-supernova-or-whatever

Ellipsus"a supernova or whatever" | intfool | EllipsusDissecting a momentellipsus.com