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ravenpie52 · 3 years

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I say in my video descriptions that Domicile is half scripted. Now that we’re reaching a wrap-up point: 2 episodes after the fifth plus 1 potential epilogue much later, I think I’ll pull back the curtain a teensy bit. Not enough for future spoilers, just a general guideline.

First of all, the major “plot points” related to Raven’s character arc were planned beforehand. Though, I can say that I have been coming up with a good chunk of it during my work on this, not all before. I needed to come up with certain things so that it is a satisfying series and so that I can set up needed parts beforehand: location info, buildings, special items, etc. A couple of things I knew about already because they were in the seed description and they were what led me to picking it.

The mineshafts right under my area were a TOTAL surprise. The issue was that I discovered them while in spectator mode flying around trying to take a picture for a thumbnail, so I had to place my stairs and tunnel just right to “hit” the mineshaft caves and discover them that way. It ended up working out.

The in-character explanation for Raven making specifically gold shoes is that it fits their color scheme best and matches their eyes. The real reason is that the Pacifist Mobs mod still includes the regular rules for Pigmen hating you if you don’t wear gold, and I couldn’t have that, so I had to slip in a reasoning for armor at some point and the fall damage from tower building was perfect.

Yes, I do sometimes go into creative mode while working, but it is only to make certain cheap things faster like traveling to a location to shoot, or giving myself a little extra bonemeal to make growing things a teensy bit faster so that I don’t have to wait. Creative mode is only for small time saves and fixing of mistakes. (As well as for swiftly killing mobs that my character should not be encountering. There are certain mobs Raven should NOT be seeing at certain times.)

You may notice some odd discrepancies with the exp levels between shots. Sometimes I end up killing things that shouldn’t be there, boosting villager trades early to pretend they always were that skill level, spending exp on enchanting that might go wrong, etc. I try my best to make it seem not that odd in the time between cuts but keeping track of that is painful.

For game rules, I have FireTick off because I don’t want my enchanting room to catch fire or a forest. I’m pretty sure I have MobGrief off because of creepers (I don’t want Hometown to get wrecked) and mobs trampling crops, but it might actually not be. I have KeepInventory on because I shouldn’t be canonically dying at any time anyways (for reasons) and it just causes unnecessary fuss with getting my items back and regaining exp. My difficulty is set to Easy.

I plan to have the map file public after I build on it for a while and develop it for an epilogue episode, doubling it as a build tour. There’s things I might want to build on the map in the future, but that I don’t have time in the story to film the process of, hence, an epilogue a few months after the story ends.

Now, there is a “list” of specific rules I follow while playing and recording for this series.

1. Raven does not have an inclination toward violence thanks to their formative time being spent with passive mobs and villagers. They do not witness it much and as such don’t fully get the point of it. (They kind of get what’s going on with zombies and skeletons burning [dying] in the day, but choose not to think about it.) Because of this, I am not allowed to hit any mob on purpose. All drops must be ones that I find on the ground alone. I cannot farm animals for meat, either.

2. Raven absolutely sucks at naming things. They are usually really basic noun names: Frosting, Wheat, Spruce, Corner Building, etc.

3. Raven has considerable gaps in knowledge. They do not know the names of certain things or how they work. Sometimes they may know the name of something, but not have it really memorized. Usually I can just decide whenever I choose whether Raven read about it or if it’s just something that never came up. FOR CERTAIN, the things that are a big mystery to most everyone is anything Nether or End related. (The alchemist villager Jean has Glowstone, but ignore that for my sake. Pretend that he doesn’t know where it comes from or something.)

4. I try to remember to slip in references to the piece I wrote. Raven does vocal stimming sometimes because of their association with sound (never reven never reven never reven) and they repeat their sentences sometimes. Lava is really important to them and the color orange because that represents warmth in the cold tundra.

5. Egg.

As a thanks for reading this, here, have an almost done edited timeline of episode 5 that I will probably post Friday afternoon/evening. I need to watch through it in full and make adjustments to the audio envelope to adjust volume levels. I also need to prepare a thumbnail image. But here! Proof that it’s almost done! It’s a whopping 45 minutes long!

Edit: nvm I’m having trouble with the rendering process so it’s gonna be a while longer.

#Domicile

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soulheartthewolf · 4 years

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i am... so sorry

i... i made it. might as well just straight up submit it to you, eh?

---

Caustic is a patient man. On par with Bloodhound with how calm he is.

But the new addition to the league of Legends?

He was testing him.

“Going here—follow me and I’ll gut you like a fish!” the new subject called out, sprinting ahead into the obviously-already-scoured Drill Site, where open doors and unlocked Supply Bins emphasized how already searched this place was. Caustic scowled and followed Revenant, ignoring the threat from the latter. Their third teammate, an unremarkable newbie that almost died six times, follows suit, nervously trailing Caustic.

Revenant, of course, reached the ping faster than the rest of them, having both made the ping and sprinted there. He threw open a door and fired into the building, shooting the small Silencer ability he had. Suddenly, he spoke into the comms, “Whole squad down. Waitin’ like sitting ducks, really.”

“You should have waited for us—they could have—”

“Shut it. Their blood is on the floor and not mine. That’s what matters most,” the simulacrum snapped, irritation bleeding into his voice. He took mostly everything from the deathboxes, and slipped onto a roof, leaving Caustic to plant traps in a house he was soon to leave.

Soon enough, another Squad that had just fled the torturous space outside the Ring headed into the Drill Site, desperately searching for cover. One of them—Wattson, Caustic realized sadly— headed into the booby-trapped house, immediately choking on the new-and-improved hydrogen sulfide gas. She fell quickly, the Ring having depleted her health significantly. Fortunately, the gas emitted from the traps hid her face as she fell, weakly reaching for the nearest human.

Caustic stepped over the lifeless corpse and looked outside, seeing that his teammate had—once again—fallen, what little blood they have gushing out rapidly, quickly killing them. Revenant, however, was holding his own easily, peering through his fully kitted Sentinel, sending round after round in the already-weakened Squad. Eventually, the two of them finally realized that peeking the quick, efficient robot might not be the best idea. So, they hid.

Revenant scoffed, and slung his Sentinel on his back, taking out the EVA-8 he wasn’t much of a fan of. Both him and Caustic stalked towards the small building, the latter priming his ultimate, taking the small gas grenade and preparing to throw it.

A frag grenade flew past them, poorly thrown. Then, Caustic threw his grenade inside, the ghost of a smile under his mask. Revenant threw open the door and fired at the coughing and choking subjects, the ammo ripping them apart. When both of them fell and the cloud of gas dissipates, the two victors stand above the dying victims. Revenant slipped behind his target and snapped their neck, while Caustic stepped towards his frightened target, and punched them thrice.

Their deathboxes appear and the two victors set to work looting them.

After a few minutes, Revenant says, “I saw Sparks go into your death house. Did you kill her?”

“Yes.”

The simulacrum picks up on the lilt of sadness instantly. “Don’t feel bad. She’s just another skinsuit—”

In an instant, the skeleton-esque robot is pinned against the wall, a boxcutter nearly digging into his eye and a Devotion about to shatter his limbs. “I can tolerate your vulgar and unnecessary comments. I can tolerate your views towards teamwork. I even share some. But you will not insult—”

“Touched a nerve?” Revenant laughed, before a receiving a shot to the stomach, or where it would be if he was human. He fell, wires and faux blood pooling underneath him. A wheezing noise punctuated by static emanated from his voice box. Caustic stepped on his neck and snapped it, destroying the connection between the rest of Revenant’s body and his brain.

“I know you’ll live through this—I’ve yet to invent something to melt metal. But I hope you have fun.”

Then, the chemical scientist strode out of the building, leaving Revenant to silently be consumed by Ring, sacrificing a win in the process.

When they both returned to the Ship—where every official Legend lives until the season ends, when they can visit loved ones or go home for a bit—Caustic immediately went to his room, where he reveled in the satisfaction of breaking the smug bastard. After shedding the gear and slipping into more comfortable clothes—a t-shirt with the periodic table and grass-green sweatpants, as well as galaxy crocs— he walked into the hallway that connected everyone’s room, only to be shoved back into his room by a particularly pissed-off Revenant.

“The fuck was that?!” was his first question, slamming the door shut with an audible ‘bang’. Faintly, Caustic heard Renee ask, “What was that?”. Pathfinder, oh-so-helpfully, replied, “Revenant! He’s probably just going to talk with friend Caustic!”

Nox responded, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Revenant, who had orange sparks flying off him and a distinctly burnt look, wrapped a hand around Caustic’s throat and lifted him into the air, fuming. “What. Was. That. You snapped my fucking neck, you—”

Renee opened the door, saw the scene before her, and closed the door promptly. Revenant dropped Caustic, leaving the man to regain his breath. “I told you I did not tolerate you insulting people I care about. Leave.”

“Not a chance—I’m gonna rip you limb from limb you miserable skinbag—” Revenant lunged at Caustic, who quickly grabbed a hammer he kept from a project and swung it at the robot, who’s midsection crumpled under the force, damaging the electric flow that allowed him to move. In a flash, the robot disappeared, an orange trail from where he fell to his room.

“Not as impressive as he was made out to be.”

In a moment, the door was thrown open again, and Nox swung again, the crunch of metal breaking informing the scientist that he had hit his mark. Revenant crumpled to the ground, his face horribly disfigured and bent. He swore, and was respawned in the Medbay.

And there started a feud—one that span across hundreds of matches.

The system designed to set up teams seemed biased, always having Caustic and Revenant together, along with a random.

Caustic always won, eventually destroying the simulacrum.

A crunch under the boot, an experimental gas that melted the wires that let him move, a quick snap of the neck… Every time, a swear that he would get him next time and a ‘recover banner’ right next to his fallen squadmate’s face.

Until, for once, Revenant got the upper hand.

In the Epicenter, Caustic rushed into the center building, bullets trailing him, hitting the building and door as he shut the flimsy defense and moved to a more secure part of the building. He was about to throw a trap when someone knocked him over, sending him to the floor with a kick. Nox, disoriented, flipped over to face his attacker, only to realize it was a squadmate. Revenant stood over him, pinning his limbs and laughing hysterically. “Finally! Fucking finally! Oh, I’m going to make this slow for you.”

Caustic, as opportunistic as ever, revealed a notepad and pen from his apron, an excited light in his pale green eyes. “Fantastic. I will take notes on your methods—”

Revenant snarled and knocked the materials out of his hands, excited hysteria souring into irritation. “Smug fucker. It’s going to be even worse—”

“Even better! I have a remarkable memory anyway,” Nox interrupted. Revenant remained silent, his fingers twitching with the desire to render his adversary blind. He stayed still, even as a grenade was thrown through the broken doors behind him.

Then, the simulacrum realized with a horror, he didn’t want to kill him. Sure, he spited the smug way in which he was about to take notes on his own mutilation, but…

A shot to the back quickly eliminated Revenant, while a well-placed thermite burnt the scientist to a crisp.

[MATCH: FINISHED. You now have a two-day break from the Games to recover and plan for future battles. The Medbay will be closed after 9PM, so please leave as soon as you revive. Lights off is at 10PM. Have a nice evening.]

Revenant thought he had forgotten his humanity. The residue of when he still thought he was a human. As he rushed out of the Medbay, he hurried into his room. His room was barren, not yet having been decorated—not like he had any real desire to decorate, as the other Legends do. With a disappointed huff, he laid down on the stiff bed. He didn’t need to recharge after a match, as Pathfinder does, but he also doesn’t need (or want) the plush bed that most of the human Legends like. So, whoever set up this room decided that a cheap twin bed was good enough for the murder robot.

Said murder robot covered his face with his hands, a very human gesture, as he tried to…think. Just hear himself think. Part of him was screaming that he was failing. Most of him was chiding him on how he missed an opportunity—and the lack of opportunism would ultimately ruin him.

Eventually, he fell asleep—something he was somehow still able to do.

Caustic almost never slept on weekends, devoting the time under the moon to research that would take a while. Mixing chemicals, fixing his traps. Little things that took hours. He hated using up daylight for things that could be done at night. The little things would also often make a lot of noise, and since the rooms are all soundproof, no one would hear him as they slept.

His work stopped when, in the room adjacent to his, a static-filled scream startled him. The lab wasn’t soundproof, so he heard it clear as day. He set down what he was working on and walked to the source of the scream, opening the door to Revenant, covering his eyes with his hands.

Night terrors are common when you’ve died as many ways as the former hitman has, and the feeling of his eyes melting out of their sockets lingered longer than it should have. Caustic tilted his head slightly at the sight, confused.

“Leave me alone.” Static made his voice louder, an attempt to scare the scientist.

“Not after you’ve disrupted my work,” Nox scoffed. “Whatever you’re going through—”

Revenant lunged forward again, hand around Nox’s throat, one hand still covering most of his face. With a growl, he said, “I’m not ‘going through’ anything!”

“Clearly.” Nox sighed, and gently moved the simulacrum’s hand from his face, only to get a glimpse of the skeletal robot… crying? A saline solution had made teartracks of sorts down the skull-like face of the robot, orange light from his eyes glinting off of it.

The scientist froze, as comfort wasn’t his specialty. “I’m—”

“Leave!” Revenant snarled, loudly, before shoving the scientist out the door, shutting and locking the blackened bronze between them.

Nox didn’t move for a minute or so, trying to process what the fuck just happened, before returning to the lab. He sat down, thought for a minute, and muttered to himself, “Could there be any worse way to realize you have a crush on the murder robot?”

DUDE YOU JUST WROTE A WHOLE DANG FIC IN ONE NIGHT XJEJ! ITS GREAT!!! Thank you for submitting 💕💕💕

#if you go off anon id love to credit you A #anon #submission #ficlet #revenox #caustic #revenant #not my fic #apex legends

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years

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So I recently sent a response to Shannon McCormick, Oz's voice actor: "I know you said the group is gonna trust Oz again and reconcile, but I'm not feeling very hopeful. They're still so bitter towards him and not trying to understand him... and are doing the same things they demonized him for, yet it's being treated like it's okay. I know you can't give spoilers and I don't expect you to, but it's something that's got me really down." He responded with: "Keep the faith."

Hey Miki-chan. Ah yes, good ole Shannon coming in clutch with that boast of optimism. I’m actually curious as to whether or not, we will even get to see Oz return for V7. The opening certainly didn’t give any indication of it; sadly to say. If I’m expecting Oz to return at all, it’s probably by the end of the season.

While I do want Oz to return and reconcile with the group, I’m skeptical about having it go back to the way things were before with Ozpin constantly taking control of Oscar’s body and more or less eclipsing his development. I miss Oz but I don’t miss that. This is why I liked how they showed him as a more of guiding voice for Oscar at the end of V6 with the airship crash.In my opinion, that’s what I initially assumed their dynamic was going to belike until the show revealed the soul swapping technique in V5.

I want Oscar to shine on his own, if possible, for V7. If Oz were to return to the story, I hope his role is relegated to being more of a literal voice of reasonand guidance taking up full residence inside of Oscar’s head; not really takingover as much as he used to but lending instructions to Oscar on how to moveespecially in combat while allowing the young boy to think on his feet and makeuse of that good ole muscle memory he is expected to inherit. If Oscar isbecome Ozpin’s successor and successful one to boot, Oz can’t keep holding his hand. He’s got to let Oscar grow into the role and I think he’s being goinggood so far. But he still does need Oz to be there to help. Hence why I’mhoping that, if Oz is to return, I really wish for Oscar to be the one to go inafter him to bring him back.

Since Oscar was the only seen to show Oz a bit of sympathy last season, I wish for this to continue as it can definitely push the growth of the bond between the Two Souls. If there is one person I’m expecting to vouch on Oz’s behalf at this point, it’s Oscar. Ruby was another character I was hoping would certainly join him in that court. However…things are a little complicated right now with our little red rose and the path she seems to be taking this season. I’ll discuss this more under thread.

While we’re on the topic of Oz’ reconciliation with the hero group, I’m really sorry to hear that this development has had you disappointed and feeling down, Miki-chan. I get where your frustration is coming from but at the same time, I also agree with Shannon on keeping the faith.

Similar to how Oz’s skeletons coming out of the closet was a narrative slow-burn that’s been churning since as early as V5, I feel as if it’s going to be the same forhis path to redemption with the team and regaining their trust. The only thingI dislike about this plot point is how we still have everyone more or less sharingthe same opinion of Oz with little indication on whether or not anyone isreally starting to consider that the other side of the coin where Oz wasjustified in his actions.

When this plot point first dropped back in V6, what was fascinating about it was how divided it made the fandom. It opened the grounds for discussion and debating with everyone sharing their different outlooks on the scenario and that was quite neat.

I just wished that the Writers had mimicked that in the series; y’know? When I first saw the V6 volume poster, art with Oz and Oscar at the centre while Team RWBY were all divided around the two of them; I figured that that was what the season was going to be like more or less.

With the team being divided on their overall trust Oz and growing trust in Oscar with some folks, such as Ruby and possibly Blake standing in the court that defended both souls whereas Weiss and Yang weren’t as convinced.

It would’ve been great to see everyone sharing different outlooks and reactions to the news about Oz’s past with Salem and her immortality; Team RWBY’s as well as JNR’s.

It would’ve been great to see that because it could have even leant itself to paving the road towards Ozpin’s eventual reconciliation in this new season or whenever the showrunners decided to have it happen down the line.

However, instead, thus far it’s mostly been everyone sharing the same opinion—Oz was wrong and is not to be trusted anymore.This is now made even worse by the notion that the heroes are currently committing the same action of ‘deceiving and/or withholding vital info from your allies’ as Oz once did with them.

However what’s almost comical is how the narrative—the PLOT—is trying to get us as the audience to think that the heroes are in the right when really…they’re not?

At least to me, they’re not. I’ve seen examples of other FNDM fam members taking a supportive stance for the actions of Ruby and the other heroes’ deceit with Ironwood and their Atlesian allies. This squiggle meister, on the other hand, has not been that easily convinced. Sorry.

I think what bugs me the most regarding the execution of this subplot is how much the heroes are able to get away with when it comes to their actions. I understand that the Writers are more or less attempting to show a parallel between our gaggle of heroes and Ozpin by having them take greater risks for the sake of fulfilling their mission while additionally making questionable choices.

That idea is fine and I like that they’re doing this with them especially since I think it could still lend to them eventually making up with Oz by understanding why he did the things he did since now they’ve been in his shoes. That part of it is good. Great even.

However, somehow, I dunno—for me, our heroes’ recent actions don’t have the same kind of impact on me as Ozpin’s did. I guess where I’m really getting at here is that when I learnt the truth about Oz last season, my main reason for staying in his court was because I understood his reasons for doing the things he did.

While I’ll call Oz out for his wrong in lying and keeping his secrets from people he believed were his most trusted allies, I was still sympathetic towards Oz because I genuinely felt that his actions were justified especially following the events of the Lost Fable.

The PLOT wants me to believe that Oz is this morally grey type of man and he is, to some degree. However the PLOT also wishes for me as the audience to believe that Oz has been nothing but this deceitful person throughout history and that the heroes are perfectly in the right for choosing to never trust in him again. But here’s the thing with that—I see Oz as being more…smart than fraudulent.

Yes Oz told lies and half-truths and kept important secrets that could shake the world of Remnant—but what some people seem to be forgetting is that there was good, valid reason behind the way Oz chose to do things. Oz was careful. Meticulous with the kind of people he chose to disclose the truth to as well as the information he chose to tell them and the right time to revealsaid information as well.

I’d like to think that this is how Oz was able to successfully keep things under wraps for so many lives as a means of more or less keeping the peace. Because of how careful he’d chose to move along with the kind of people he decided to place his trust in. Oz was cautious and as he explained in V6, his vigilance was backed up mostly by his experience over the centuries especially his first one with Salem

This is the issue I’m having with our heroes. Although they are committing the same actions as Oz, especially the part of choosing to hide the truth from Ironwood—their actions feel reckless and unwarranted in my opinion and I can’t get behind it as well as I did with Ozpin because I personally don’t feel the heroes are as justified in their actions as Oz was.

Even though the PLOT is trying to paint this picture that James shouldn’t be completely trusted and our heroes are in the right in not trusting him fully with the truth about Salem, for me, I honestly felt like our heroes jumped the gun on that one, just like how they jumped the gun back in Argus in choosing to illegally commandeer an airship to Atlas as opposed to trying any other means that could’ve rendered them the same results with less repercussions involving trouble with the military and the safety of the citizens of Argus.

According to the PLOT, Ruby was correct in making the call to not reveal the whole truth to Ironwood given how he and his forces have been treating the poor people of Mantle; not to mention our heroes upon their arrival in Atlas. This isevidenced by Ruby in V7CH3 in her response to Yang’s questioning.

“Can we talk about that again?”“What about it?”

“We’re really not going to tellIronwood about what happened to Oz? What we learned about Jinn? About Salem?”

“…We are! We…will. But you saw howthings looked when we flew into Atlas.”

“The General’s heart seems to be inthe right place but…that doesn’t mean we should trust him yet.”

“Why don’t we play along for a whilebefore we make any major decisions?”

I’d like to highlight Ruby’s indifference to her own actions again. Just something I pegged noteworthy since it reminded me of her attitude towards revealing her true feelings regarding the Aftermath of the Fall of Beacon—how she nonchalantly seemed to shrug away Oscar’s attempt at telling her that it’s alright for her to be open with him about how she’s truly feeling… right before Oscar switches his approach and firmly calls her out on his indifference which in turn finally forced her to come clean and be straight with him.

While I understand that the whole Mantle situation is a complicated matter, to me, that still doesn’t rule out it being a good reason for the heroes to lie to Ironwood.

I’d understand it more if it was a matter of Ruby being strategic in the information that she discloses to Ironwood but that’s not what the case is here. It’s not to saythat Ruby told James some of the truth and was very careful with what she chose to disclose and how she worded said information. It’s that she flat out liedand then repeated the same lie that Oz had fed them about the Relic ofKnowledge back in Mistral.

I know Ruby is trying to say she can’t trust Ironwood 100% because of how things are looking in Mantle and Atlas because of his actions. But on the other hand, I’m surprised it didn’t inspire her to be more upfront rather than the opposite take.

Based on what Pietro said in the first episode, Ironwood has been paranoid and on higher maintenance since the Fall of Beacon. That being said, why chose to withhold information from a man who is already fearful of being betrayed again by those closest to him since it was mentioned earlier in the season that it was one of his Atlas’ own—someone who worked closely with Atlas’ security and the military (Watts) that contributed to the destruction of Beacon Academy and so much more in chaos in Vale?

“The Fall of Beacon took a toll on all of us. James was no different. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is he saw there, but it changed him. He’s—”

“…He’s scared.”

“Paranoid would be the more appropriate term. You have to understand, it wasn’t just the Grimm. Someone completely dismantled Atlas’ security code. Made it their plaything and made us look like traitors to some and buffoons to everyone else. Whoever managed to do that is either a genius or one of our own. I fear the answer may be both and so does the General.”

Again, with that thought in mind I ask again, why did Ruby think it was a wise choice to lie to Ironwood given what she learned specifically from Pietro regarding his frame of mind right now?

See why the hero’s actions are having the opposite effect for me?

While I get why it’s a possible motive, I still think what the heroes are doing with James is unwarranted. As a matter of fact, I feel like they’ve only made thingsworse for themselves by withholding info from Ironwood given his current frameof mind.

I’d like to think that Ironwood’s experience in Vale has made him more than just paranoid. He’s become more…I wouldn’t say soft but emotionally vulnerable than he was when we first met him.

This is why I don’t wish for Ruby’s mistrust of Ironwood to come back to appear as if she took advantage of Ironwood in his vulnerable state. Because I feel like that could easily feed into Ironwood’s paranoia—to learn that he couldn’t eventrust the people he placed fate in and showed kindness to. To show that heextended them his hand in reliance only for them to not do the same of him.

I know one of the common FNDM theories is that Ironwood isn’t being completely honest with our heroes, however I’m starting to think otherwise. Up until this point in the plot, Ironwood has been upfront with JNR_RWBY and Qrow about everything. Every question they’ve asked of him, he’s told them in full confidence. So far, I haven’t gotten the impression that James has been lying to the heroes at all.

Since he returned the Relic of Knowledge to Ruby and reassured her of his trust,I genuinely feel like he’s been nothing but upfront with the group abouteverything including all that’s been going down with him and his kingdom—bothsides of it.

If Ironwood was shown to be shady as well then I could’ve easily bought into theheroes doing the same thing with him because then their actions would’ve beenreasonable. If Ironwood was the same man he was shown to be back in V2 and was shown to be withholding important information from our heroes especially when they asked him vital questions in need of clarification, similar to how Oz had done with them, then I could’ve gotten behind our heroes taking that mindful approach.

However, this isn’t what I’ve seen from the show’s execution. Instead I’m seeingIronwood behaving pretty trustworthy while the heroes are the ones beingdeceitful and it all feels so very wrong on the heroes’ part. Especially when you have some of them behaving that they were right in keeping secrets from James. What especially bothered me a little was what Qrow told Ruby in the recent CH4.

“I’m trying to do what I think is best but…I really can’t tell if what’sbest is what’s right or if I’m no different from Oz”

Then is an excellent question for Ruby to ask of herself. It’s great because it highlights that she’s taken into consideration what her teammates have toldher—particularly Oscar. It shows that Oscar’s questioning of her actions mimicking Ozpin’s has weighed on her mind-set. So I’m pleased with this frame of thinking from Ruby. However, this moment is short-lived for me by what Qrow says next in response to Ruby’s statement.

“…Ruby, Oz only trusted himself with the whole truth. You’re trusting others, making sure they prove themselves first. I think that’s a pretty big difference.”

…Okay….One thing admittedly right about that statement, yes. Yes; Oz did only trust himself with the whole truth. That is indeed correct. But, there’s also some clear wrong in that statement as well.

Qrow…I get that you’re probably still very, very upset that Oz deceived you and hurt you on a personal level. However, what I am in completely disbelief of is—how could Qrow say that Ruby is no different than Oz because she trusts in others, making sure that they prove themselves worthy of her trust before giving the whole truth?

I’m sorry…WHAT! But…but…Qrow; how can YOU of all people say that with a straight face? How can you remotely imply that at all? Especially the line about Oz only trusting himself and putting his faith in those he believes trustworthy. I’m sorry but that line comes off like utter rubbish to my ears.

Qrow Branwen—you are a living, breathing exemplar of earning Ozpin’s trust. Oz trusted you! He trusted James. He trusted Glynda. He trusted LeonardoLionheart. The entire Inner Circle of Oz only exists because Oz decided to place his trust in a handful of people he deemed worthy of knowing the truth.

While he kept the main truth about Salem’s immortality to himself; that doesn’t erase the fact that he trusted his Inner Circle with everything else. The Maidens. The Relics. Even his own immortality curse and reincarnation cycle. Oz told it all to this particular small group of people because he believed he could trust in them. Oz believed in the integrity of ALL members of his Inner Circle because he trusted each and everyone of them….EVEN when they stab him in the back. Right V2 Ironwood? Right Lionheart?

He even believed in Team STRQ! I’m actually curious to know how muchdid this team know about the truth. We know he trusted Raven and Qrow byturning them into birds with his magic. So I’m curious to know if Summer andTai were also fully aware of ¾ of the truth that Oz trusted his main peoplewith. I’m assuming they did and they kept it as part of their secrets as well.

Speaking of—Qrow, are you forgetting that you also helped Oz keep and uphold some of those secrets? He entrusted you with ¾ of the whole truth and you’ve been sitting on it as well as your own secrets that you were keeping from your family; particularly your young nieces.

In a nutshell, Qrow’s statement to Ruby further highlight’s the hero’s hypocrisywith Oz. For me, this line didn’t serve to debunk the fact that Ruby is turningto Oz. It only embellished it for me. It affirmed it.

Ruby is indeed turning into Oz and what’s sad is that Qrow, her own beloved uncle and mentor figure, is oblivious to this fact because he’s currently too blinded by both his sustained resentment towards Oz and his love for his niece.

And it’s pretty much the same for everyone else. Weiss and Blake are pretty complacent with following Ruby’s lead and backing her up on her actions with Ironwood. Yang shows uncertainty but is otherwise complacent too. We still don’t know how Jaune, Nora and Ren feel in regards to this. I’d actually like to hear them weigh in their thoughts on Oz and Ruby’s actions towards James. But I’mconcerned we might not get that since, as evidenced by the PLOT, I think it’spretty clear who are the key drivers of this subplot for V7.

I feel like it’s going to be mostly our veteran Rosebuds—Ruby and Oscar—presenting the two differing sides of this subplot with deceiving Ironwood and I feel like Oz’s reconciliation is prevalent on the results of it.

My theory is that Oscar will be the key to jumpstarting the path to Oz’s reconciliation with the team.

Moreover, I feel like Oscar is going to need Ruby’s support in vouchingfor Oz with the rest of the team; especially with Qrow and possibly Yang and Jaune.

Since the running thing is that most of the hero team follow Ruby’s leadership, I think it can be safe to say that so long as Ruby still shows uncertainty with Oz, it’s going to be mirrored by the others. I think if Oscar gets Oz to come back fromhis isolation in his mind and then gains Ruby’s full trust by helping see thewrong in what she’s doing now by doing the exact thing Oz did while alsohelping her to understand where Oz was coming from.

The only person I think this isn’t go to win over is Qrow. At least, I think Qrow might end up needing more time to work out whatever is going on with him before he can “forgive Oz” since his anger towards him is all wrapped up in his issues with himself and his semblance which encompasses his entire life thus far basically.

Before, Qrow looked to Oz for validation in the good that he was doing which was why the revelation hit him harder than anyone else. So until Qrow works out his inner skeletons, I think he’ll still be resistant to facing Oz again. Thisseason teased Qrow sharing good “comradery” with Clover. I’m curious to seewhere that will go and whether or not it will lead into Qrow dishing out somedetails on what his past was like with Oz back when he met him as a student ofBeacon.

As a matter of fact, I’m intrigued by any info regarding what Oz’s relationship was like with all the members of his Inner Circle since I believe it can lend to Oscar’s turn with the Merge.

Like I have a Tin Solider headcanon that Ironwood has actually known Oz from since back when he used to be old self—meaning the man I’ll dub Zoroaster Ozpin, nicknamed ‘Zo’ for short BEFORE he became the man we know as Professor Ozpin.

We know who Oz is but…who was Oz before he became Oz? Who was Zo and did Ironwood know him personally?

Ironwood’s remark to Oscar about Oz’s disappearance not being normal definitely gave me that impression. I think it could be pretty cool if one of Oz’s closest known allies actually knew him before and after the Merge. It could help shed some much needed perspective for Oscar on what the Merge entails for him especially if he heard it from the mouth of someone who knew Oz closely for basically two lifetimes? I’d really love to see something like that done for the canon.

But that’s only my hunch.

I’d honestly wish to discuss more on this subject since there is surprisingly more I can say about this. However this is getting a little too long for a simple response post. Just another day, am I right? XD So I’m going to end it right here.

I know you didn’t really ask me a question Miki-chan but I still wanted to provide my take on the subject matter you presented and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Feel free to answer or inbox me another message if you’d like as always ^u^)b Peace!

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#miki-13 #squiggles answers: rwby #professor ozpin #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ozpin #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories

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fearsewn · 5 years

Note

When it comes to Year One, how do you feel about how his childhood was handled? What did you like? What would you change? Any childhood!Jonathan headcanons? :)

//BOY I TELL YOU WHAT. This comic has it all, and is phenomenally nuanced and perceptive in terms of developmental psychology. What I’m gonna say is just the tip of the iceberg, I’d love to chat with you about this more extensively.

First of all the artwork is stark, graphically rigorous (contrasty, more focused on line than color) and stunning. The style marries itself well to the subject of fear. I also REALLY love Jon’s costume. It’s not edgy and overdone, it’s practical--quick on and off, for situations of flight from a crime scene--and the mask is terrifying. It has a disturbing, childlike whimsy to it, very Burtonesque.

I love the subtle nuances about how social evils and systemic, societal forms of hatred (homophobia, misogyny and domestic abuse, religious intolerance, to name a few) contribute to the creation of monsters: but also, that it requires innate proclivity, because Batman underwent a HIGHLY parallel origin story, and came out far less cruel. AT THE SAME TIME, the comic makes sure not to render this argument a reductive case of nature versus nurture. Because sure, Jonathan is a monster, and Bruce isn’t. But guess what. Jonathan was raised by a hideously cruel person, and never knew maternal or paternal love; Bruce had parents who loved him and were taken away from him against their will, and was raised by the loving hand of Alfred Penniworth. Jonathan literally has no concept of kind touch (every time anyone touched him for his entire life, it was to punish or harass him: it’s no wonder he’s so touch-averse as an adult). Jonathan lived in abject poverty, with a family heritage of hostile mental illness and suicide; there is no known mental illness in Bruce’s family. I could go on and on. The comic makes it abundantly clear that “evil” develops as the result of a complex cocktail of risk factors.

It’s interesting that Jonathan’s revenge on his family is echoed in his non-familial targets: Professor Pigeon is clearly a surrogate father figure who didn’t abandon him until failing to stand up for him at his dismissal hearing, for instance.

What strikes me most is that as an adult, Jonathan is fully cognizant of his own pathology. He knows he’s abnormal. He knows what he does is unhealthy and self-destructive: he simply doesn’t care, and even derives perverse pride from it. He has a razor-edge clarity about his traumatic memories, and somehow summoned the strength to recognize that great-granny Keeney was completely remiss in her treatment of him. This isn’t usually a realistic survivor’s point of view (there’s ordinarily a lot of internalized misplaced shame), but it’s very true to the characterization of Jonathan Crane, and his lethally detached, precise psyche. It’s in the awareness that what he is doing wrong, is in fact wrong, and he still has no interest in abstaining from victimizing others as he was victimized, that his mental illness and his evil are clearly separated, and I think that’s a very important distinction to make, and that the authors did so laudably.

Although, it’s not just a thing of “he knows he’s bad and doesn’t care” or “the bullied becomes the bully.” It’s noteworthy, too, that Jonathan’s insanity derives from his beliefs, more than his actions. His actions are composed and coherent, but the beliefs from which they stem–all the world is evil and dangerous, people will betray one another inevitably, eat or be eaten–are deeply paranoid and distorted, by trauma. The fact that Jonathan often narrates his own insanity is fascinating. It’s as if he can stand outside himself and psychoanalyze, the way he does others. He can parody himself, as he can parody religious motifs, both dwelling within that strangulating framework, and outside of it (his long speech to Pigeon about how calling upon God will bring no aid comes to mind).

I also really like the fact that nothing about his behavior patterns and beliefs is left up to “idk man, he’s just crazy lol!” It’s all mapped out with cerebral clarity, not unlike Jonathan’s own personality: the crows were an agent of serial abuse and punishment, which he turned around and weaponized, made into armor, as a part of his self-protecting alter ego. He realized that the source of his fear was meaningless, an irrational phobia, without the author of malice to control the crows. He realized he could harness and use the things great-granny did to him, as tools of his own, as a perpetual student, which is an excellent tie-in to his career as a professor.

But then that brings us to the end of the comic, which was horribly apropos, and sad: he IS still afraid of the memory of his great-grandmother, but even more than her specifically, what she represents. Climbing up from hell, a skeleton, calling his name, intent upon punishment: this is not just the literal horror of a zombie coming to “get you.” Undead great-granny is also the metonymous symbol of ALL THE TIMES JONATHAN WAS HELPLESS. And that wonderfully ties in to everything he has subsequently done, to arm himself. The Scarecrow alter ego is one great cry of “never again” and “get them before they get me.” In a way that none of the other canons posit, this canon posits the radical claim that Jonathan Crane doesn’t really care about fear. He cares about control with fear as a mere conduit toward control. And for unsettlingly human reasons.

#scarecrow year one #jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear #meta #scarecrow: year one

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barpurplewrites · 6 years

Text

Common Appetites

Today’s grisly tale was born from @a-monthly-rumbelling non smut prompt.

This one is gory with descriptions of blood injury and cannibalism, (I bet you can guess which RC character stars) Enjoy, but read with caution.

-x-x-x-x

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

A hulking shape stepped out of the shadows at the back of Thomson’s Barbershop. The weak light from the streetlamps glinted off a tooth and the edge of a knife. Barney sighed and backed up against the locked door of his shop.

“You really don’t want to try this pal.”

“And what is a short arse like you going to do to stop me?”

Barney knew exactly what he was going to do, the problem was he had no idea what his damn cursed luck was planning. The mugger stepped forward and Barney turned on his heel and scarpered down the alley.

The alley behind the shops on Main Street was perfectly straight, but filled with obstacles; the dumpsters, the boxes that the grocery store had out for recycling, and the bicycle that the pharmacist still hadn’t got repaired. Any of them could be a hazard, even the wobbly slabs were capable of sending a man sprawling to his doom.

None of these caused the wee accident Barney knew was about to happen. A sickening screech of metal and a wet gurgle stopped him. It took several shaky breaths before he was ready to turn around.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

The now very dead mugger was still standing and would have looked threatening with his arm raised over his head brandishing the knife. Would have been threatening if it wasn’t for the rusted ladder of the fire escape that had dropped and impaled him, pinning his arm to the top of his head. Barney edged closer and swallowed bile when he spotted the sharp end of the ladder sticking out of the man’s gut.

“Oh, fuck. Fucking hell. Fuck.”

Barney was terrified. Again. You’d have thought after all this time, he’d be used to this sort of shite. But no, here he was out of breath and feeling like he was going to puke his guts up, with a would-be mugger standing six foot away from him.

“I’m sorry pal. I didnae mean it. Yer were just waving that great big knife around and I panicked.”

If he wasn’t so much of a coward he would have stood and took the beating, or even the stabbing the man wanted to give him. It might not have been that bad, and there was a fair chance that he would have lived to tell the tale. Instead he’d run, knowing full well that it wouldn’t end well for the mugger.

“I’m cursed, you see. It was my Ma, she was the killer, I just had bad luck, but it’s all gotten so much worse.”

He’d thought his luck had changed. The police hadn’t even looked at him for the deaths after those four coppers topped each other in the woods. Then old Mr Henderson had passed away of natural causes and left him the barbershop and a tidy lump of cash. For the first time in his life Barney had felt free. He’d sold the shop and moved to the States, thinking a fresh start would do him the world of good.

For six months good had been an understatement. His shop was doing a roaring trade, he’d made some friends and was even enjoying a wee bit of flirting with the librarian. Then some dumbarse rumour had started that the comb cleaning fluid was a great high. It was shite of course, but late one night some desperate sod had barged into his shop and tried to hold him up. It had gone down just like it had with Wullie; Barney’s scissors sunk into the robber’s chest, and a dead body on the floor.

Of course, he didn’t get away with it quite as clean as he did with Wullie. He’d have given anything for Charlie to have blundered in, but his luck was an evil bitch. What had walked through the door and found him standing over a bloody body was proof that his mother hadn’t been the worst monster lurking in the world.

After that his bad luck returned in force. For the past six months he’d counted himself lucky if he made it a fortnight without killing anyone. This bastard had broken his current streak at nine days. Barney was tempted to kick him in the shin.

“You’re a fucker, you know that?”

A wee part of Barney’s tattered soul told him he could call the Sheriff. It had been an accident after all, there was no way that anyone would think he’d forced the ladder through the man’s head. In fact, whoever own this fire escape would cop it, because they’d let the ladder get into a bad way. He could call the Sheriff. He should call the Sheriff. He wouldn’t. He dialled a monster instead.

Calhoun picked up on the fourth ring; “Good evening Barney. Let me guess there’s been another wee accident?”

“Aye. A mugger. It’s a right mess.”

“This can’t keep happening, Barney.”

A cold sweat broke out on Barney’s brow; “You ain’t gonna help me then?”

He didn’t want to threaten Calhoun. The man was bloody terrifying, but he would if he had too. After all he knew where all of Calhoun’s skeletons were hidden, he’d helped him lug them to cold storage.

“Of course, I’ll help you Barney. I’ve never fed so well as I have these last few months.”

Barney shuddered. There would be no point threatening Calhoun. There was very little left of the bodies he’d helped move. The sick bastard ate them. Wendigo he called himself. How the fuck had Barney’s life come to this?

He was so wrapped up in contemplating his miserable existence that he didn’t notice a pair of blue eyes watching him from the window of the library.

-x-x-x-

Ives strolled into his home and dropped his jacket directly into the trash. Getting the blood out of something that cost so little was too much effort. Besides ‘Mr Calhoun’ was a very rich man. He’d been feeling a touch nostalgic when he last updated his identity; it had been a very long time since he’d used the name of the unfortunate priest, but it was an easy one to answer to, almost like slipping into a comfortable pair of slippers.

He poured himself a drink and smiled. Barney Thomson was a walking disaster; painfully awkward but a master of his trade. Ives appreciated a barber who didn’t blather on while wielding scissors or razor, and Barney took quiet while plying his trade to an extreme.

Very little scared Ives these days, but realizing he recognized Barney had given him pause. From what he recalled of the caustic way Cemolina had spoken of her son he doubted that she would have mentioned their little arrangement to him, but caution was wise. In his own way he rather missed the old whore turned murderer, she’d supplied him with fresh meat for a few months before his wanderlust had made him move on again and had been the closest thing to a friend he’d had in years.

After ascertaining that Barney had no idea who he was, he’d decided to eat him. A little tribute to dear Cemolina who’d always said her son was a terrible waste of space. Ives chuckled to himself as he recalled that night six months ago when he’d followed the junkie into the barbershop. He’d fully expected to either have to finish Barney off, or simply pick up his body after the junkie had killed him. It hadn’t turned out like that and Ives was oddly very pleased with his new arrangement.

Fate had chosen a strange plaything in Barney Thomson. He was either the luckiest bastard to walk the Earth, or the most unfortunate bugger under Heaven. He didn’t appreciate how what he referred to as his ‘bad luck’ had rendered him damn near unkillable. Ives certainly wasn’t going to tempt whatever forces surrounded Barney, no matter how tempting it was to carry out his plans to eat him occasionally. He couldn’t help but wonder if the man’s good fortune would pass to him via his flesh.

Ives finished his drink and strolled into his study. Putting Barney’s curious talent to one side for the moment, he had a small problem of his own to deal with. Someone was stealing from his larders. He’d suspected Barney at first, thinking the man had decided to take the limb or two as insurance. He was far to squeamish to be eating them, but being able to throw the Sheriff a bone, as it were, would be a plan if the focus of the law turned upon him.

He’d dismissed Barney as a suspect. The man was petrified of the Sheriff and turned in to a stammering mess if she so much as wished him good morning. Setting the cameras up in his larders had been a calculated risk. There was a chance that the CCTV feeds could be hacked and then he would be in very hot water, but he needed to know who he was dealing with.

As he settled down to watch the feeds the cat that had adopted him finally deigned to grace him with its presence. He scratched it’s furry head and said; “What do we think, Puss? Whose been pilfering from our supplies?”

The cat just purred at him. Ives had expected to have to spend a long night waiting for a glimpse of his thief, but in less than an hour there was movement on the screen. The cat grumbled its displeasure as he leaned forward to peer closer at the image.

“Well, this is certainly surprising.”

Of all the people he’d considered, he’d never once thought it would be the little librarian raiding his larder.

“Miss Belle French. Whatever are you up to?”

#halloween house of horror 2018 #Barney Thomson #Ives #Belle #blood and gore

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sketchy-vore · 7 years

Text

More Speculative Biology

Now, I can see from your pictures that this probably isn’t the case, but I’m under the impression that Revenant jaws are bisected, as they (the head’s at least) seem to be based off of gasterblasters (I could be wrong though). This would make a low of sense, as a bisected jaw is partially what allows snakes to open their jaws so wide.

This would allow a Revenant to swallow far larger things, especially without skin getting in the way.

Also, without ligaments, tendons, or muscles preventing it, each piece/section of jaw could rotate upside down to keep teeth out of the way when spitting out someone (I know this doesn’t happen in the story, but food for thought, y'know).

However, without skin or other soft tissues, a Revenant also would not have any material between the sections of the lower jaw, rendering almost no lower mouth to speak of. This is because jaws are, for the most part, “U” shaped. How does this work?

And on the subject of no soft tissue, vocal chords. This is something that’s a constant, I’m not going to say “issue”, but thing with this fandom. How do skeletons talk wothoit vocal chords? In here they don’t, not quite, but they do seem to growl and generally make noise.

So, here’s my proposal, rattling. See here and here for some stuff about bone rattling, (courtesy of Zarla-s). My idea is that along with these uses for rattling, which are sort of considered the baseline general communication stuff (like learning to sound out words, but if those sounds still held meaning later on in life), they can also rattle and shake their bones in more precise ways for more precise meanings. I feel that rib cages and tails woild be especially useful for this. Not to mention that different parts could convey different messages and/or parts of speech with different frequencies being emphasis and/or tone.

Now, another topic: marrow. In humans and other animals, blood is produced in the marrow, but what about Revenants? They don’t seem to have any blood to speak of, so what’s being made in the marrow? Is there marrow in Revenant bones?

My best guess is that the insides of Revenant bones have ligaments made of magic connecting them (maybe even running through the whole bone?) and a latice work of spongy bone to help regulate magic distribution and circulation throughout the bone.

Please correct me and/or add on to any of this.

-Anon Seven

(I own no images used in this and make no claim to)

More excellent questions! Let’s do this!

I’ll be answering these in the order in which you asked, okay?

Revenant jaws are indeed bisected, even though you can’t see that at first glance. Revenant young are however usually small enough to be swallowed down without much trouble. Usually, the separation of the lower jaw only happens with a blaster attack. Yes, even though strong Revenants can summon those skulls we all know and love, they themselves can perform the same attack with their own skull. (Revenants themselves even believe that the oldest/strongest of their family will inherit the skulls and powers of their ancestors once they gain full control of their magic.) But Sans did indeed use this advantage to take in Papyrus when they were still kids.

Now, remember how I said that softbones stay inside the pouch until their bones harden enough. A fully grown Revenant does still have this soft bone in some places of their body. There is a bit of it in the palm of their paws, but most of it is on their skull. Namely the eyelids and eyebrows, the hinges of their jaw (they don’t even have hard bones there, it’s just fused together by the soft bone), at the gap at the front between the two parts of the mandibles, and there is a complex network of it right behind the nasal cavity (remember that one, we’ll get back to it later). This soft bone feels a bit like soft rubber and is very stretchy. In the front of the lower jaw, it can even rip apart and reattach for their blaster attack. This stuff is so relatively pliable and regenerative because it is basically a homogeneous mixture of bone and magic. Like flour mixed with water to make dough, only a little bit tougher.

(I don’t really get what you meant with the jaw rotating upside down, so I’m gonna leave that for now.)

As for the lower jaw and throat, well, remember from the last time that I said the second condition for softbones to be allowed out of the pouch was to have basic control of their magic? This is basic control, as in, for bodily functions. Most important for this is forming a tongue and throat to eat solid foods with. The pouch is the only permanent magic construction in a Revenants body, since you have to concentrate to form anything else. (You can’t afford to lose focus while a fetus or softbones is still developing, and this also safely seals the pouch off when the throat is gone.) This throat starts with magic stretched along the lower part of the mandibles, also forming the base for the tongue, and runs down along the front of the spine. Most Revenants’ throats start to fade somewhere inside the chest cavity, pouch bearers will have one going down all the way to the pouch.

Now, you also wondered about sound. Just like with everyone else making headcanons about the skeletons, the simple answer is magic. But there is more to that than just the word. Remember those soft bones inside the nasal cavity? This is basically their vocal cords. A softbones doesn’t have much control over these yet, but they can produce little wheezy whistles and snorts. As they mature to babybones they learn to make their species specific sounds, like cooing, trilling, purring, growling, ect. And throughout life they’ll gain more and more control with practice until they can almost seamlessly replicate any organic sound they hear. So in a sense Revenants speak through their nose. There are however two exceptions. For long distance sound, a revenant will use its throat. These sounds are made by air pushing through the throat, being amplified by the skull cavity, and then coming out of the mouth. If the air is pushed out rapidly and forcefully it produces a roar. If the air is pushed out slowly the Revenant will start to ‘sing’.

You are not wrong about the rattling though. For purrs and snarls they actually breathe in, amplifying the sound in their chest and adding slight rattles of the ribs. But the most obvious bone sounds come from their tails. They will, for instance, rattle the entire length of their tail in a rattle snake-like fashion. This is basically the same as a wagging tail in a dog, when they are happy or excited. During play fights, Revenants will also make this sound right before pouncing. The other sound the tail makes is ‘the drum’. The sharp club at the end of their tails is actually very porous with a large network of tunnels and air pockets with a small opening right above where it is attached to the rest of the tail. When a Revenant feels threatened but would rather prevent a fight they slam this club down onto the ground or against stones and trees. This produces a jarring, deep sound while simultaneously being a show of strength and speed. (Also older revenants have a longer tail, equals larger swing, equals louder sound.)

And now to the marrow. In their own way, they do have it. Instead of blood though, this contains their magic reserves, so you were kinda right about that. Pouched Revenants will also store some of it inside the walls of the pouch, which is where the slimy residue comes from. This stored magic does however also play a role in their communication and expresses a few emotions when it comes into motion. For instance; near the end of the third chapter, Sans and Papyrus’ faces glow for a moment. This is a small flare of magic in the soft bone (looking a little like a blush) and usually expresses a sudden, strong bout of affection. There are other instances where this magic will even start to ‘boil over’, but depending on the emotions and circumstances it can get a different appearance and meaning. I might explain all of them on another occasion.

So, I think that was all. If you have further questions or comments (or even if you find some holes), please let me know.

#more world building!#I'm just gonna call these the 'Speculative Biology' series #I love doing this!#it really helps me think/focus #Speculative Biology #submission

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adrift-in-writing · 7 years

Text

Arise from Ashes: Chapter 1

Wow, it’s almost been a couple of months since I’ve written a proper chapter set-up for Skyrim. I’ve been slacking hard. Really gotta think about trying out some stuff. Anyway...

We move on from Theresa and move onward to the adult life of Freya, the Fallen Valkyrie. At this point in time she is known only as Diana, and has been recently inducted into the Vigils of Stendarr for about two months.

_________________________

Searching for these warlocks proved to be no easy task, Diana had thought to herself. After several hours of searching, her group of Vigilants had finally reached Hob’s Fall Cave. The body of a decaying woman laid frozen stiff near the entrance from the countless days - perhaps years - she spent there.

The Vigils marched forward with their torches and armed with maces. Inside, several warlocks and their skeleton minions were on their guard. They were waiting in anticipation that their days would be numbered. It reeked of death and decrepit corpses, to which some of the vigils felt nauseated by.

Bony clacking came out from the shadows. A small group of raised undead had emerged, and were dispatched quickly by the fellow Vigils. They descended deeper into the cave, tackling nothing but skeletal warriors along the way. As soon as Diana’s group had hit the ground floor, the bridges and ladders connecting to the ground had been destroyed. Mocking laughter erupted around the echoing caves, particularly an old man’s laugh.

“Fools! Welcome to your death!” The words bellowed outwards into the cave. All around the outer rim of the ground floor, the army of skeletons slowly marched towards the Vigils. No matter how much Diana and her group fought, it would be rendered moot as the skeletons would reform again and again.

One by one, the Vigilants were slaughtered and became overwhelmed by the forces the warlocks had put up. The last one standing - still fighting to her last breath - was Diana. Though at this point, it became pointless to resist the inevitably of death. The skeletal warriors surrounded her, and just as she was ready to accept her fate, her aggressors had permanently crumbled into bone-dust. She crumpled onto the ground and writhed in pain, for a sword had impaled her abdomen before they crumbled.

A blinding white light flashed at the top level, followed by dead and decapitated warlocks falling to the ground floor. As she laid there, bleeding out, she could faintly see a small group of winged women descending down. Indistinctly, their voices mixed together and it was hard for Diana to focus. Could this be it, then? Could this be the moment she’d go to Sovngarde?

The pressure in her abdomen was released and gradually, Diana was lifted up into the air. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t focus on what was in front of her, but it did appear that her saviors were examining the wound. The lone Vigil had blacked out before the examination could be finished.

It was warm, despite what Diana initially thought when death took her. Or at least, that’s what she assumed. When she moved her fingers, she felt refined fur underneath her and a soft pillow on her head to rest. A crackling fire and the smell of delectable food enveloped the air. Some women were talking whilst Diana slowly arose up, groaning in pain at the wound that had been inflicted earlier.

She was not in her Vigilant robes. Rather, she was cautiously wrapped in medical bandages. It covered her breasts and delicates while remaining modest, save for the blood in the middle of her abdominal area. Her hair had been brought down as well, as it delicately flowed down to her shoulders. One of the winged women had entered into the room to a still disoriented Diana, and then quickly alerted the rest of her group. “She’s up! And you said we’d have lost ‘er!”

More women stepped into the bedroom. A total of six winged girls stood inside the room as Diana rubbed her eyes and startled herself. She wrapped her blankets over her body in defense. “Where in Oblivion am I? Who are you, and what do you want?”

Much to the surprise of the women, they looked at each other. “I told ye she lost her memories! Didn’t someone keep ‘em in a locket somewhere?”

While two women fumbled about to find said locket, Diana kept still while the rest approached her slowly. “Relax, lass. You’re safe, thank Odyn for that.”

“Um...okay. But who’s this Odyn you speak of?” Diana tilted her head out of confusion. Truly, this was a strange group of people.

One of the women had then found the locket and it contained a golden glow inside. Out of the six, the one who looked like the leader stepped forward, letting the glow hum a little before she took a look at her fellow sister on the bed. With a flick of her wrist, a large pint of ale appeared on a clean glass. It was filled with strong alcohol, and the contents of the vial was poured in. The winged leader then offered it out to Diana.

“Drink, sister. It’ll help you.” Her voice resonated out and it sounded reassuring.

Diana however was not going to buy it. She reluctantly took a look at the drink and backed off. “Not until you explain to me what’s happening. I’m not your sister, and by the Eight I don’t know what you just did!”

A quick chuckle emitted out of the woman. “You wouldn’t believe it even if we told ya, Freya. Just drink.”

“Who is Freya? My name’s Diana! Please, just let me go and I’ll be on my way.” At this point, the lone Vigil shook her head and began standing up. Almost immediately, two of the more well-built women forced her to sit back down. She sighed and grumbled. They weren’t going to let her go, and everything right now just seemed like a crazy nightmare.

“Not in the mood for ale. Yup, I am a milkdrinker. Now let me go.”

The two well-built winged women turned their heads back to their leader, still holding the ale. Without saying anything, the leader nodded, and followed up by stepping in real close to Diana.

Her mouth was forcefully opened up. No amount of resisting could make her close it until she drank the contents of the alcohol. She could hear the calming voice of the leader speak out to her. “Didn’t want to do this, lass, but ye forced our hands.”

Diana choked on the contents of the alcohol. She resisted drinking it, even if it meant spilling into her bandages and burning her wound. Though, strangely, as bits of alcohol passed through her, the more submissive she was to drinking more of it. Even more strangely however was the fact the alcohol was not yet drained despite heavy gallons dropping onto the floor.

As the women finished, Diana coughed violently and quivered once it had subsided. She took some time to collect her breath, though once finished, her soft blue eyes turned to a shade of bright gold before shimmering down to a brownish orange. It felt difficult to move all of a sudden, so she simply turned her head on her pillow. “If it isn’t Brunnhilde and the Valkyrja.” She chuckled and groaned at the sudden burst of pain coming down to her midsection.

Her coughing had reopened up her wound. Freya sucked the air in through her teeth and tried to get more comfortable. Slowly, the memories of Freya began overlapping with the memories of Diana. Eventually the two had merged and it disappointed the wounded woman. “Odyn stripped me of Asgardian blood as well, I see...”

Briefly, she sighed and grumbled while her sisters talked amongst themselves, until Brunnhilde sat on the bed. “Rest now, lass, and tomorrow it’ll probably heal up. She found that perhaps the contents of what she poured didn’t kick in fully yet. Then, she addressed the more serious matter of Freya being stranded down in Skyrim. “Allfather didn’t exile ye. ‘Twas the Trickster.”

The wounded woman furrowed her eyebrows. “Loki? You jest. Why me of all people?” She began to protest and tried standing up again to no avail. Her wound was too great, and moving at any rate would cause it to open even further. She seethed in pain and gripped her abdomen. It leaked out blood again and was beginning to soak through the fresh bandages. “Why have you forsaken me, Odyn...?”

Most if not all of the Valkyrja shook their heads without knowing what the Trickster’s intentions were. Nobody ever knew. Another sigh. Freya repositioned herself so that she was comfortable in her bed again. “Ye need to keep your strength up, lest ye perish, Freya. An’ don’t worry, some of us are gonna stay behind and watch over you.”

She snickered and rolled her eyes. “Watch over me? As far as I’m concerned I lived alone all my life. Besides, there’s no reason for it.”

This is where Brunnhilde had a forced laugh. “Ah, Freya. Always headstrong, yet never realizing you’re never alone. To answer your question...we’re here to train you again.” Freya raised her eyebrow and brushed off the notion, but Brunnhilde shook her head and gave a smug smile. “Ye really think we weren’t watching you slaughter endless draugr with flaws in your technique? Think again, lass.”

With that, the leader of the Valkyrja clapped her hands once. “Right. Training begins when ye get better and you can take a few hits. Give or take...2 days. Rest now.”

#Character: Freya #My OC stuff #Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #My OCs

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aces-miild · 4 years

Text

Familiar Fell - Chapter One

Sans waits just inside city limits. His hands are deep in his pockets, his clawed fingers picking anxiously at the seams. He grinds his pointed teeth, a deep frown taking the place of his usual grin. Red-tinted sweat beads on his skull, and his good eye is illuminated, watching the struggle taking place just beyond the rolling hills.

Beside him stands his friend - though he would hesitate to call her so out loud - the esteemed inventor Doctor Alphys. She wrings her scaly hands, concern rendering her unable to speak.

So, they wait in silence as a small crowd - humans and monsters alike - whisper fearfully around them. They watch the distant light of magic as attack after attack rains down over the hillside just north of Ebott City, spears and bones alike striking the dry summer earth.

A strangled roar rings out, the last cry of the dying. The attacks cease, and the gathered citizens let out a collective sigh of relief as a massive amount of dust rises on the evening breeze, sparkling in the setting sun. Beside him, Alphys shivers.

As the crowd dissipates, Sans glances over his shoulder at the city, and the damage the beast had done before being led out into the hillside. Ruined streets, crushed cars, destroyed storefronts. Sans would never have guessed that a monster like Aaron could wreak such havoc.

Then again, the creature that had rampaged through the city hadn’t really been Aaron, but a vicious, destructive creature - a huge horse-like abomination with a powerful fish tail capable of leveling buildings with a single swipe. It was like something out of a nightmare.

Such transformations weren’t unheard of. The news reported stories of monsters Turning, becoming overwhelmed by rage and transforming into savage beasts bent on destruction. It was becoming more and more common. This was, however, the first time Sans had seen it happen in person.

Guess that creep got turned down one too many times, Sans assumed, having trouble coming up with anything else that would piss Aaron off enough to turn into...that.

Sans returns his attention to the hills in time to see the City Guard making their way back. He recognizes the silhouette of the Captain, Undyne. She trudges along, footsteps dragging as she supports the weight of Sans’s brother Papyrus. Despite looking worse for wear, the two appear to be in high spirits, no doubt proud of their victory. A pack of wolfish monsters surrounds them, whooping and howling, their laughter carrying over the dry land.

Alphys, anxious to be reunited with her wife, rushes to meet the Guard halfway.

Undyne lets go of Papyrus in favor of lifting her tiny wife into the air in a celebratory embrace. They share a too-long kiss, leaving Papyrus to collapse to his knees from exhaustion. In an instant, Sans is at his brother’s side.

“ya good, bro? ya look a little pale,” Sans jokes, trying to hide his concern. Though things had been peaceful since monsters settled on the surface, Sans had yet to fully move past the kill-or-be-killed mentality he picked up in the Underground. Caring about others, even his own little brother, was still something he struggled to outwardly show, for fear that it would be exploited.

“I Am Fine...Just...A Bit...Winded,” the younger skeleton responded between gasping breaths. Sans had never seen him this worn out.

“S-so, it’s o-over?” Alphys asks, glancing in the direction of the still-drifting dust.

Undyne nods her head solemnly. “I wish it didn’t have to end like that,” she admits, much to Sans’s surprise. The old Undyne would’ve revelled in such a battle, but now all he sees in the fish monster’s eyes is regret. He guesses that having to kill your former neighbor - no matter how big a creep - really took away from the thrill of the fight.

We’ve really been spoiled up here, haven’t we?

Undyne places her tiny wife back onto solid ground, and the other members of the guard start to head back into the city to begin working on repairs. Sans offers to help his brother stand, but Papyrus’s pride gets in the way. He lifts himself on unsteady legs, ready to join the others, but Undyne stops him, putting a hand on his armor-clad shoulder.

“Go home, bonehead. You took on more than your fair share of that fight...go get some rest,” she has an uncharacteristically sympathetic look on her rugged, battle-scarred face.

“I’m Fine, Captain.” Papyrus attempts to get out of her grip, but fails miserably, easily kept in place by his superior’s incredible strength.

“Get. Some. Rest. That’s an order, punk!” She commands with a good-natured, though tired, smile. She releases his shoulder and punches him, sending him reeling back a bit.

Papyrus considers this for a moment, then straightens his posture. “Far Be It For Me To Ignore An Order From My Captain,” he states. Then, much quieter, “Or The Advice Of A Friend.” He turns to Sans. “Shall We, Brother?” He asks, resting a hand on the shorter skeleton’s shoulder.

“sure thing, boss,” Sans replies.

The two disappear in the blink of an eye.

As usual, Sans rises late the following day, only leaving his room to refuel on junk food. It’s already two in the afternoon, and Sans expects to see his brother flitting around the house doing chores, or at least a note telling Sans that he’s gone out.

But the house is silent, and the door to Papyrus’s room is still shut tight. Sans knocks on it lightly, “hey bro, you in there?” Sans hopes his brother is just going over some combat strategies with his figurine collection.

There’s no answer.

Cautiously, Sans opens the door and looks around his brother’s room. Once, back in Snowdin, he never would’ve dared to enter his brother’s room uninvited. The Papyrus that existed in the Underground would’ve had his head for invading his privacy like that. But now, after a few years of family therapy, the brothers were on much better terms.

At first, he doesn’t see anything of note. All of Papyrus’s possessions are where they should be, immaculately organized, not a single item out of place. Then, he sees his brother, still asleep in bed.

“it’s gettin’ pretty late, paps…” Sans says, walking over to the bed. “You should prolly eat somethin’.”

No response.

Panic flares in Sans’s soul. Papyrus was a notoriously light sleeper, even when exhausted. Sans reaches a hand out and shakes his brother, hoping that the taller skeleton won’t be too pissed off at being woken up so abruptly.

Nothing.

Sans shakes his brother harder, calling and then shouting his name again and again, to no avail. He takes a step back, breathing heavily. His good eye lights up, and he scans his brother, checking his stats.

AT: 50

DF: 30

HP: .5/100

Sans collapses to his knees, reeling from the realization. It can’t be...he can’t be...

Papyrus, his little brother, the only family Sans has ever known...has fallen.

Alphys was Sans’s only hope. He knew about her experiments with Determination - he’d had a hand in them, way back when. If he could just get a small sample of whatever was left over, surely he could wake Papyrus.

But when he showed up at the lab, all Alphys could offer were her condolences. “I’m s-sorry, Sans. There’s n-nothing I can do…” she turned her back, unable to face him, and fidgeted with some papers on her desk. “Experimentation on monsters - awake or fallen - is illegal. You know that.”

“never stopped ya before,” he muttered in response.

“I was p-protected by the King before.” She sighs, and adjusts her glasses. “I can’t give you any D.T., anyway. Once the b-barrier was broken, I disposed of the leftover materials. Best not to have that kind of t-temptation laying around...You’ve seen what curiosity does to me.”

Drives her insane. Up-the-wall. Completely bonkers. “yeah. makes ya do some real mad scientist shit.”

“Exactly. I have a new reputation I’d like to cultivate,” she hesitates, then asks, “Are you going t-to t-tell Undyne, or…?”

“i was gonna hold off. not sure i want her tryin’ to help out.” Sans was pretty sure she wouldn’t take it well, and he didn’t want her barging into his house and roughing up his already unstable brother in an attempt to wake him by force.

Alphys nods solemnly. “I’ll wait a few days before I bring it up.”

“thanks, al.”

“I wish I could do m-more for you. For Papyrus…”

“yeah. me too,” he says bitterly as he turns to leave. As the automatic door to the lab shuts behind him, one of the guards outside - an old buddy from the Wolf Guard back in Snowdin - speaks up.

“M’sorry ta hear ‘bout Papyrus…” Doggo says, not quite making eye contact. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but, well...ya know how it is.” He did. Doggo had come a long way since being blinded; his other senses had improved to compensate for the loss.

Sans had nothing to say. He simply nodded at his old drinking buddy and prepared to teleport home.

“If ya just wait a second, Sans, I got a suggestion for ya.”

“what?” Sans all but growled, narrowing his eyes at the meddling mutt.

“Well, ya know how my old man fell ‘bout six months back?”

“yeah, what of it?”

For what it was worth, Doggo completely ignored the skeleton’s aggressive tone, and simply kept on with his explanation. “Well, my mom took ‘im to this lady livin’ in the woods...a witch. Monsters’ve been goin’ there with their fallen for a while. She’s got a bunch just sleepin’ in her house...she takes care of ‘em, y’see. Keeps ‘em from dustin’ ‘til their families are ready to say goodbye.”

Sans didn’t want to hear more. He didn’t even want to consider that Papyrus might never wake up.

“i ain’t takin’ my bro to some crackpot witch, dog-breath.”

“Hold on, now, m’not done. See, she doesn’t just keep ‘em from dustin’. Nah, she’s also got a reputation for wakin’ up the fallen. I don’t really know much about it m’self, but she might be able to help ya.” Doggo looks off into the distance with his unseeing eyes. “Might be worth your while ta take a trip over there, y’know? Just to see if there’s anythin’ she can do.”

#Familiar Fell #Underfell fic #fanfiction #fanfic #Underfell fanfic

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