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hotxcheeto · 8 months

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Hi! Hope your day is great!

Could you please write a reader(either having a crush or best friends with Vi) that is a rebellious rockstar (are there electric guitars in Arcane I don't remember) that is trying to expose Silco and get back Jinx by informing and rallying the people with her music. When Vi gets out of prison and looks for her sister she comes across the reader's live concert and spots some of Silco's goons attempting to cause an "accident" and tries to intervene.

Thanks for the fics I love every one of them!

━ 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi x G/N!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - honestly i'm not sure how much longer i will keep writing for arcane, i'm just not as passionate in the fandom as i used to be nor do i really find passion in writing for it anymore and i think that it's really showing in my writing and i don't want that to be the case nor do i want to disappoint people who love these fics. i will be finishing the rest of the requests i have for it, but from then, i am questioning continuing with it. thank you so much for requesting and i love that you love my fics!!

The music was at an ungodly volume that made Vi's head spin, walking through the crowds of people. The floods that Jinx neglected to warn her of when she'd told her where you were.

People were singing and screaming out the lyrics to the song that flooded through the speakers, the sounds of the instruments couldn't even attempt to drown out the person singing. They were much too strong.

Her mind was dazed at the thought of seeing you again. Wondering what you looked like now, if you'd stayed single or moved on with your life. If you missed her or not. Maybe you'd forgotten all about her.

No, that was stupid, she thought. You wouldn't forget her.

But what if you had? What if you locked eyes with the stranger that Vi had become and didn't recognize her at all? She was nobody to you anymore.

Vi nearly fought a few people trying to get through, fighting her thoughts at the same time before coming across a man that nearly made her trip. His face. She'd seen that face before. From where though was the question until her eyes shifted and another one that made the picture more clear, he'd caught her attention, waiting just near the stage.

He was the only one not singing, dancing or even smiling. Staring dead at the performers with his hand in his jacket.

Yeah, that face, she knew that face.

He'd been in the cell right next to hers.

She'd never forget, not when she'd smashed it in over a month ago.

He kissed Silco's ass, hardcore, and she doubted that he'd even been conscious enough to know who was beating his ass for talking shit. The scrawny little man had no idea who Silco truly was, or at least Vi had claimed so. The man disagreed.

Vi walked over to the guy, not even paying attention to the singing anymore, instead focused on him with tunnel vision so strong she was sure she'd never been more focused in her life.

He noticed it as well, finally tearing his eyes away from the singer and all the action to look over at the tall, muscular girl coming right at him. And something about that, Vi guessed, was intimidating.

But his eyes, his eyes told her that he knew exactly who she was.

His hand fell out of his jacket and he hurried right past her, even bumping her shoulder on the way. She just stared, stared at his back disappearing into the crowd of sweaty bodies that had now gone still.

That's when the realization that the music had stopped, there were cheers, but that was all. No strumming or drum hitting. Nothing.

She wondered if she imagined it.

"Vi?" She turned, eyebrows furrowed, seeing you standing there in a dramatic outfit with a powered down microphone in your hand.

"What the fuck?" Was the last thing that came out of your mouth before she hugged you. Your hands not moving from their place until your mind had caught up with the rest of you, your arms hugging her back.

"What're you doing here? How- you- you're alive? I mean, I heard rumors but... holy fuck."

"I swear I can explain it all." She said out of breath, despite not moving. Tears welled in her eyes and a choked tone that began to become more gravelly the more she leaned into your touch.

She could tell you were crying too. You were just better at keeping in.

"Was it you singing?" Vi pulled back, wiping her face as nonchalant as possible. "Yeah... it's more of a front than anything. Keeps a lot of heat off me but also... it makes it easier to do what's needed when people really like you."

Her eyebrows furrowed but you didn't elaborate, though from what Echo had told her about you and him trying to find a way to be rid of a certain old fuck, she guessed you'd need as much support as possible.

The guy might've been ancient looking, but he was no fool.

"So... singing?" You nodded at her question, gesturing to your friends. "These are my bandmates," they waved while continuing to pack equipment, in her haze, Vi barely even had noticed them take the same stage exit as you.

"..they were Echo's friends first." You joked, wiping away your own relief and sadness from your cheeks. "But they liked me."

"Who wouldn't?" She said before she could stop herself, looking you up and down once more trying to take in the fact you weren't the same kid she'd left behind. Or a kid at all.

"Hm, glad to see you're still a flirt." She watched you smile, the same smile you'd give her years go. "Some things never change."

There was an awkward, emotional silence between you both for a moment. Neither sure what to say.

"So..." You began. "Wanna get out of here?"

She nodded.

"That'd be nice."

#vi x yn #arcane vi x reader #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #vi x y/n #arcane vi #arcane imagines #nevy writes

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repelomuggletum · 11 months

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Listen, I’ve always been fascinated by Grindeldore...

First of all: yes, I'm aware that it's not exactly the least problematic ship. It canonically suffers from the "kill your gays" trope, and it's only canon because JKR retconed it and didn't care enough to actually write queer characters in her series (though, quite frankly, I wouldn't trust her to write queer characters at all, considering her incredibly harmful ideology).

However, I love the potential.

We don't see enough of Grindelwald (in the original HP series, because I am consciously ignoring the fact that the Fantastic Beasts movies exist) to know much about his personality or how he would interact with Dumbledore, but he's canonically very powerful and, because he evidently had a large following, it's likely that he was also charismatic. Dumbledore is also both of these things, wielding enough power to not only defeat Grindelwald but also terrify Voldemort, and being charismatic enough to be a politician and essentially a war leader. Watching two people like that interact would be fascinating, especially in a context where they care for each other without agreeing with each other. The tension would be palpable.

Still, my favorite thing about the ship isn't really the dynamics -- it's the tragedy. Dumbledore may have been misguided in his youth but he eventually grew to recognize that conquering and subjugating muggles would be bad, actually, and he acted accordingly: he began to dedicate a decent portion of his life to advocating not only for muggles and muggleborns but also other marginalized members of society (eg: letting Remus attend Hogwarts and employing Dobby). Now, I'm not saying that he does it well but, considering the state and prejudices of most of wizarding Britain, his actions seem almost radical. This, combined with him actively working against dark lords and being instrumental in their defeats, paints a pretty clear picture of him, morally speaking.

Grindelwald, on the other hand, was obsessed with power and did horrific things for it, never seeming to learn his lesson. Because of his relegation to the status of a minor character, we don't know that much about him other than the fact that, due to the very nature of the time he was active and what war his conflicts were running parallel to (and the fact that his name seems German, or at least Germanic), the narrative is implying that he's wizard H*tler. Naturally, that doesn't frame him in a good light, morally speaking. He never gets a redemption, either -- I've seen it suggested that Grindelwald intentionally lost his final battle against Dumbledore out of love but there's no actual evidence for that in HP, especially considering how it's mentioned that their final duel was legendary, implying that neither of them held back (and, in any case, losing a fight is not really deserving of redemption) -- though an argument can be made in regards to his final moments. The problem is, we’ll never know for certain whether Grindelwald’s refusal to admit that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand was him honoring what was most definitely Dumbledore’s wishes for the knowledge to be kept secret or if he was still upset that he’d lost ownership of it and he didn’t want anyone else, including Voldemort, to get it.

The bottom line is: Grindelwald and Dumbledore are moral opposites. Any reasonably healthy relationship between them would require a massive shift in personal/moral values (and this is not me saying that people with different values can’t have a happy relationship, but Grindelwald and Dumbledore are two extremes that simply aren’t compatible).

And that’s the tragedy of the whole thing.

Dumbledore is forever haunted by the specter of his relationship with Grindelwald. When Rita Skeeter publishes her biography about him, she talks at length about the summer of 1899, when the two had been lovers and co-conspirators. She mentions how he’d been the one to coin the very phrase that Grindelwald would later use to wreak mass havoc across Europe. There’s no way that someone like Albus Dumbledore, who seemed to prize moral virtue, would ever truly cope with what he’d had a hand in creating.

Grindelwald, on the other hand, was defeated by the very man he’d used to care for and is left imprisoned for fifty years with nothing to do but ponder his actions. Again, we don’t know enough about him to know his thoughts, but -- in the case of someone as ruthless and charismatic as a dark lord -- there was probably rage and betrayal, a sense that someone that used to be his had done this to him.

To me, Grindeldore is not about how they’d be together but rather how they’re affected by the aftermath. Even separated by several countries and fifty years, they will never be rid of each other. Grindelwald was the one to open Dumbledore’s eyes to the injustices of the world and Dumbledore was the one who ultimately foiled all of Grindelwald’s plans.

Grindeldore, in its purest form, is a tragedy, and I find it absolutely fascinating.

#harry potter #hp #meta #harry potter meta #grindeldore #dumbledore x grindelwald #gellert grindelwald #grindelwald #dumbledore #albus dumbledore #also: fuck jkr #terfs dni <3

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bracketsoffear · 11 months

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Roy Mustang (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood) "He's the Flame Alchemist - a military mage with a unique, unprecedentedly destructive ability to create fire on the scale of "destroying a few city blocks with a finger snap". Fire powers alone obviously do not make a Desolation Avatar, but this is absolutely not all he's got.

The Desolation's themes of pain, loss and destruction of potential are perhaps most evident in his relationship with his lifelong companion, Riza Hawkeye. He idealistically (to protect the people and to better the country in the future) enlisted in the military, and she was inspired to do the same. Flame alchemy was her father's treasured dangerous research that he tattooed onto her back, and that is how Roy learned it after her father's death - she metaphorically entrusted her back to him.

Then came the Ishvalan genocide - and he proved instrumental in it, implied to have the largest death toll even among other state alchemists with destructive powers, and earned the moniker "Hero of Ishval" - he's the poster child of Desolation in-universe. And genocide by an element, especially fire, is arguably the most Desolation thing to exist ever. Jude Perry's "blackened earth, the destructive agonizing heat of burning flesh and land scoured of life" is a line that could be lifted verbatim from a Roy-centric episode. And in a more individual fighting context, Roy also exemplifies Desolation's targeting nature - while he can spam fire, he also can and will target the most painful and important parts, torture and humiliate.

Coming back to Riza, who became a sniper and saw what Roy was capable of with the knowledge she trusted him with: after the war she begged him to burn off the tattoo on her back, so that there would at least be no more Flame Alchemists. Being forced to consider how you influenced your closest person and then having to hurt them unimaginably is a very Desolation moment. Finally, in their relationship after the war and during the series I can't not see the similarities between Roy and Agnes Montague, tensely attempting to do Things Normal People Do and usually romance-coded gestures but knowing he they could never be who they thought they could.

If I could, I would nominate the two of them as a single Avatar. But alas."

Dhwan!Master (Doctor Who) "Every incarnation of the Master is an angry, sadistic bastard to varying degrees, but Dhawan’s portrayal in particular makes clear that he is destroying things and killing people to hurt the Doctor first, and to further his ends second - save for when destruction is an end in and of itself. The previous incarnations of the Master all have ambitions of conquest, which requires something actually surviving to rule over in the end. Dhawan's Master, however, is deeply affected by a) the events leading up to his previous self's death, and b) numerous horrifying revelations about the nature of the Time Lords and of the Doctor. When the audience first meets him, he is already DEEP in a self-destructive spiral and only gets more unstable with each subsequent appearance, turning his rage outward all the while. He razes his home planet, draws out the reveals of his schemes to twist the knife for the Doctor, and eventually even tries to steal her very identity and being in order to tarnish her name and destroy every good thing she ever did. He hates himself and both loves and hates the Doctor on a deep, fundamental level, for things he wouldn't be able to change even if he were capable of letting go in the first place, so he leans ever harder upon his hatred for everything else in order to keep going."

#desolation poll #the magnus archives #the desolation #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma:b #doctor who #poll

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jhsharman · 11 months

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The prehistory of the Archies

The Memorial Day Special -- a tad more involved than my Christmas and New Years Special.

So in 1963 Archie, Jughead, Moose, and Reggie had a whirlwind rise and fall as the band The Beetles. Though it was only a dream, it re-taught Archie the lesson on the high price of fame that he had learned some years' prior when he dreamt he was a Frankie Avalon clone, and the lesson Jughead learned before that when was Elvis.

Despite that harsh slide, the pull of music and the overwhelming power of Beatle-mania kept him enthralled so he was apparently still tried his hands with the probably sue-able The Beets.

Reggie was headlining his own group in 1966 along along with a shaggy bown haired boy and original Beetle Moose, and though Archie had been a part of Reggie's Rockers, Archie cut out once he was shown some overly aggressive female fan behavior.

But the three -- Reggie, Moose, and shaggy brown hair kid, The were still together as "Reggie's Rocking Rockers" in 1967.

Though at this point Archie had gotten Jughead and Dilton together to form their own not named competing band, a big hit at Harold's Teen Club before inadvertently sabotaging their way to victory at the Battle of the Bands against Reggie's Rocking Rockers. To be sure I am not sure what a rock contest victory judged by Mr. Weatherbee is worth -- The Pinheads were never going to get a fair shake from the Hill Valley judges -- but they considered it something.

1968 and Archie is dabbling with a band with Juggead, but also taking up solo gigs -- not a goid sign for nascent band dynamics.

Reggie's Rockers imploded, leaving him to a bitter anguish and jealousy --

Yet, Reggie ended up in the band -- replacing the rotating third and sometimes fourth anonymous members. They were not yet able to settle on a name, but Archie's Archers was the clear favorite. And even as they were always on the hunt for the big chance, working any available connections -- most obviously Mr. Lodge --

which was an exercise in desperate stubbornness --

They got themselves one record executive hearing at least, and one clear rejection --

and had to have been getting the sense of their greenness and limitations --

And pulling their way out of a bad Beatles imitation, Archie spearheaded an era of experiments -- experimental nature, bringing in unusual instruments for rock as they sought to find their own more industrial sound.

Indeed, even after finally settling on their permanent name of The Archies, and despite a lot of aural dead ends, Archie's musical experimentation continued.

Needing a fuller sound, perhaps with Reggie's familiarity from when be was a part of his bands, they brought Moose in for a couple tries in 1967 and 1968

But it did not last. And while initially showing a decided bias against female rock musicians --

-- with the Gallant Gals appearance in the Riverdale Music scene possibly inspiring Veronica to form her own group --

-- Veronica and The Groovers quickly evolving into the more stream-lined set The Veronicas -- made up of Veronica, Betty, and a never set third member --

-- and despite Reggie's snide comments on and low regard for The Veronicas, as too the opinions expressed by members of that group toward the music of The Archies --

The Archies soon found the need for a female vocalist, and so poached Betty out of the band -- spelling the end for The Veronicas.

The record is a little hazy on how Veronica ended up in the band. But once there it was set -- the three member Archies expanded to five members. Except for some instances where for plot purposes when they needed to jettison Jughead or Reggie. As too a hefty backlog of stories written when there were three members. Otherwise --

As with the dynamics of any band, Creative Differences and fights reared their head behind the scenes. But this too marks for creative energy.

After much struggle, and missing a shot to get on Johnny Carson -- the band was able to once more lean on Mr. Lodge's connections -- wearing him down through incessant pleading -- to get a hearing with Don Kirshner ...

And from there it went. To the top of the charts in 1969. Where Archie and his group would learn again the high price of fame, as sitting at the top of the Riverdale Music scene they found that rival musical acts would stop at nothing to elbow their way past them. Freek and Weirdo. B.G. and the Scurvys. The Three Tones. Joker's Wild. Cabaret singer Jezebel. Ruthless in their jostling against their prime competition.

Not to mention having their eyes open and naivete shattered when experiencing the deeds of their unscrupulous business associates.

As for the cast-aways of earlier formations of the band, Dilton and Moose and a shaggy haired kid had an unsuccessful band named The Diltons.

And though Moose was not able to deal with the rejection and quickly dropped out of the music business, Dillton kept at it -- through a couple failures

moved on through his scientific theory and approach in engineering music,

until after much fine-tuning, he finally hit gold, and was able to hire some musicians to fill out a successful prog rock project.

No clue on what became of the third member of the group, or of the various members of Archie, Reggie, and Veronica's earlier band attempts.

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greenticklerdreams · 5 months

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Vex vs. The Ticklelock

Fandom: Critical Role - Vox Machina

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Vex'ahlia, Ler!OC, Ler!rest of VM

Word Count: 2992 words

Summary: Vex is captured by a very strange villain with an even stranger set of powers. Can she hold out until she's rescued?

“FINALLY!! You FUCKING creep!!” Vex’ahlia shouted, finally free of the Hold Person spell. Her mouth was dry and tasted terrible. Her arms were stretched out to either side, locked at the wrists by padded cuffs. She was sitting up against that backboard, back straighter than when Father tried to drill good posture into her and her twin when they were little. Her legs were propped up on a bench, straight out in front of her, her ankles locked in a wooden stocks. Her bare feet felt clammy with fear, despite the roaring fireplace that was the only source of light in this weird underground laboratory. “What’s the big idea, taking my boots off?!” she snarled. “And ONLY my boots?? Not anything else?? Really?!”

“It’s necessary, my dear,” came a voice from the chair by the fire. Vex perceived the hooded man there, though his face was just obscured by the dancing shadows. This same hooded man had dragged her off after successfully casting the Hold Person spell upon her. Dragged her away from the fight, from her friends battling the giant tentacled creature that had risen from the underground lake in this dank dungeon of his. He’d taken her down hallways, stepping around traps, moving past slavering aberrant creatures waiting in the wings, and bringing her here… It certainly looked like every other mad arcane caster’s lab she’d ever seen, and Vex had seen a few at this point in her adventuring career. A shelf full of scrolls, weird instruments on a nearby table, books… and a rather unusual amount of feather quills. They were quills, right? Most humiliating of all was being completely unable to resist as he forced her into this position, removed her boots and socks, shut her wrists and ankles into their bondage, and spoke a command word that sealed the locks with a magical click. Vex had been terrified at the time, but now that she found herself almost fully clothed and otherwise untouched, she was mostly just nonplussed. And pissed off.

The hooded man stepped into the light. He was pudgy in his brown robes, looking a little like a fat monk. Throwing back his hood, his red-brown hair was revealed to be long and lank, and his beard and mustache needed a trim. His eyes looked just a little too large for his face, and a little too black. “You and your friends have something that my master needs, and he has asked me to get it from you.” He grinned a sleazy grin, those black eyes glinting in the firelight. “I must confess, I hoped you would be the one to fall prey to my spell.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? Get in line,” she spat at him. Damned Arcane Locks, she thought, trying and failing to thrash against her restraints. The hooded man advanced to her, stopping just in front of her stocked feet. “At least ravish me like a proper villain. Freak. Pervert.”

“Like I said, lovely Vex’ahlia,” purred the man, his voice low and honeyed. “What I need is information. I need it quickly. And I am going to get it. Although… I am going to enjoy getting it out of you.” Vex felt his soft, pudgy hands caress the soles of her feet. She shuddered in horror - and worse, it tickled!! - and tried to pull her feet away, but her big toes were tied to an unseen hook on the front of the stocks. “You CREEPY fucker,” she snarled, trying not to let him see her reaction.

The hooded man just smiled. “I also would not deprive my pets of the pleasure,” he said. With a flutter of feathers, a pair of doves descended from atop the scroll case. They were the type noble ladies bred, with big, fluffy feather skirts around their ankles. However, Vex recognized that these were not normal pigeons. Their beaks were just a little too long and sharp, the feathers of their wings a little too large and fluffy, those odd spots of exposed flesh on their chests weren’t normal, and their eyes… were too intelligent. These had to be mage constructs of some type. “Lester, Leelee, get to work,” said the hooded man, and the creatures alighted on Vex’s hapless body. The mage-pigeons walked over up and over her chest - she could feel their sharp little claws hooking into the unarmored parts of her clothes, barely poking her quivering skin - and then they started using their sharp beaks to cut holes around her underarms. “Hey!!! What?! Are you serious?!” she snapped, and she tried to thrash, but she could barely move, and the birds hung on anyway. She felt her armpits exposed to the open air. The hooded man smiled. “Start brushing.”

With uncanny intelligence, the birds looked to their master, and then began brushing Vex’s taut, stretched armpits with their fluffy, feathery wingtips. Vex felt an electric sensation course through her body and choked back a cry. Biting her lip, she grunted with exertion.

[MATT: Make me a Constitution saving throw.]

[LAURA: ……17! HA!]

Releasing her lip, Vex gasped as she convinced herself this wasn’t too bad. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” she said, blowing air out of her nose with a little “hmph” for emphasis. “What do you wanna know so badly anyway, you freak? Who are you?” The bearded man smiled. “I am Gruvo, a servant of K’nizz Mo’lag, a creature from beyond the stars and beyond your mortal comprehension.” Well, at least he’s easy to persuade to talk, Vex thought through the terrible feathery sensations in her armpits. “His many-feathered wings sweep through the universe and will soon alight in this world. None will be able to withstand him, and your kingdom will be reduced to helpless laughter in his ticklish embrace.”

“Lamest Far Realm patron I’ve ever heard of,” Vex taunted. Gods, it never ends. Oh gods. It tickles. “Did the cool eldritch… beings pi-hick you last at recess? You must be so disappoi-hointed.”

Gruvo looked back into Vex’s defiant eyes and raised his hands, wiggling his fingers in her full view. “Form of Feathers,” he said. Suddenly all ten fingers contorted and transformed into long brown feathers, wiggling at the ends of his palms. His beard changed, too, going from unkempt hair to a mass of reddish-brown feathers that surrounded his lips and covered his chin. His eyes seemed to grow larger and blacker, like an owl’s. He lowered those hands, out of view behind the stocks, and suddenly Vex’ahlia felt ten brushy, whispery feathers gliding all along the soles of her feet. “How do you like this, Lady of Whitestone? Do you still doubt my patron’s power?” A strangled squeal escaped Vex’s lips. Her head thrashed back and forth. “Mmhmmph!! Mmmm!!!” The soles of her feet were tingling like crazy. Her knees spasmed and banged against the bench. Then she felt just the tips of the feather-fingers jittering against her soles, ten little points all at once. They quested for the tips of her toes and the spaces between. They danced on every wrinkle. Gruvo chuckled. “You are already succumbing to our power. Now tell me, Lady Vex’ahlia: where is the Tome of Isolation?”

[MATT: That’s another CON save.] [LAURA: … 19.]

[SAM: LET’S GOOOO!!]

“I’ll… never… tell you… ANYTHING!! Eeheeheeheehee!!! Hmmmph!!” Angry that she had let even a few giggles escape, Vex bit her lip again. Her armpits were twitching, her feet were squirming against the toe-tie, but she resisted with all her might. She resolved herself to scrunching her feet as hard as she could, even as those feathers brushed all over her wrinkled, curled soles. “My friends… hhh-are… haha! They’re… going… to kill you… SO hard! Pfffhaha!”

[LAURA: Seriously, how long does it take to kill a stupid tentacle monster?!?!]

[TRAVIS: Ow!! We’re workin’ on it!!!]

“Maybe… heehee!! Maybe if you tell me… hh-why?!” Through scrunched-up eyes, Vex saw Gruvo’s smile fade. He looked oddly serious as his feather-fingers brushed her feet. “My patron attempted to enter this world and brush his feathery wings over it, but he was thwarted… by a goddess called the Dawnflower. That tome of the Knowing Mistress’s is able to banish a god, am I right? Well, my patron will be able to corrupt that tome to drag a divine being into his realm. There shall we bind her, and K’nizz Mo’lag will tickle your meddling goddess into oblivion.”

Seriously easy to persuade, Vex thought through the sensations flooding her body. Would’ve been more appropriate if he’d grabbed Pike. Not that she would’ve fallen to a lousy - hhooooohhhh gods. Oh gods my feet. Don’t let him get between your toes. Focus. “Stu-stupid plahahannn,” she gasped. “Ahahaha. Heeheehmmmph.”

Gruvo’s face grew uglier. “This is taking too long. I think it’s time we changed it up.” He raised his hands and Vex saw his fingers and beard go back to normal. “Lester. Leelee. The belly.” He walked over to his shelf, but Vex was too busy watching the pigeons walk down her ribs - damn those little claws - so they could start snipping off the middle of her shirt. “Come on! Really? Not my look, you freak. Though I’ve got better abs than you!” It was a lame taunt, but Vex felt woozy from resisting the tickles.

The chubby warlock walked back over with a bottle in his hands. He uncorked it, poured the glistening yellow contents into one hand, and rubbed them together. It had to be oil of some kind. He then started rubbing it into her feet. Vex gasped. Just rubbing the oil on tickled her poor feathered feet so badly. Suddenly all of his fingers slid between all of her toes to rub it in. “YEEE-hee-heek!!” she squealed, throwing her head back. When she looked at her captor again, he was grinning. The birds had fully exposed her belly by now. Gruvo walked around to where she sat, poured more oil into his hands, and then rubbed down Vex’s pale, quivering belly. Vex smothered another squeal and squirmed for all she was worth. “You do have nice abs,” he murmured, looking her full in the face. “Does it tickle, Lady Vex’ahlia?”

Vex shook her head violently. “Nuh-uh. Fuck you.” Gruvo just smiled back. “I think our tough ranger has a ticklish tummy…” He curled his fingers and squeezed Vex’s slick midriff. “Mm-hm!! Hmmmm!!” came the strangled cry. The warlock chuckled softly as he rubbed more oil into her armpits. Suddenly his fingers were digging in! “YA-HA! Heeheehmm!!” Vex heard Gruvo chuckle as he walked away, back down to her feet. The oil wasn’t making her cold - if anything, it was too warm. And her sensitive skin was tingling like crazy. Gruvo raised his hands again. “Form of Nodules,” he said. It was hard to see in the firelight, but Vex perceived his palms and fingers sprouting weird, rubbery-looking little nodules, like painful-looking boils, darker-colored than his sallow skin. “Oh, what the fuck,” she said. “Lester! Leelee! Tentacalus!” One of the pigeons hopped up to Vex’s chest while the other perched just above her belly. Their heads reeled back… and two fleshy tentacles emerged from those odd bare spots on their chests, squirming like giant earthworms. “Ohhh WHAT THE FUCK!!” Vex screamed in horror. “Now,” said Gruvo, voice low and dangerous. “We’re going to try this again.”

Suddenly Vex’s feet were being scrubbed, rubbery nodules bouncing and sliding all over her oil-slick soles. The pigeons’ tentacles were in her right armpit and slithering all over her belly, the tips finding purchase in her soft, slippery skin. One tentacle slid into her belly button and vibrated around while the other prodded one side, then the other. “Where is the Tome?” Gruvo called in a raised voice.

[MATT: Make another CON save, this time with disadvantage.] [LAURA: Aw WHAT?!]

[MATT: It’s magic oil.]

[LAURA: …… 4.]

[the table groans and laughs]

[MATT: There it is! First failure.]

“BAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! AHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” The laughs Vex’ahlia had been holding back suddenly exploded forth, like a burst dam. She felt herself give in to the sensations as her back arched and stiffened, head hitting the backboard, as tingly fire filled her body. She had taken lightning damage before. This was worse. Her feet were being tortured with endless electric shocks as the nodules scrubbed her arches. That tentacle in her belly button had to be like Percy sticking one finger of his Diplomacy gauntlet in and turning it on. “NOHO!! NOOO!!! WE ALREADY HAVE IIIIIITTT!!! WE HAVE IT!! WE HAVE IIIT!!! AAAAA-HAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

“You see?!” Vex could hear the glee in Gruvo’s voice rising above her laughter, oily as his hands. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Poor Vex here can’t handle the tickles… she’s such a ticklish girl… all will fall before our master.”

[LAURA: Will you hurry the fuck up?!?!]

[LIAM: We’re almost there, we’re almost there! Geez!]

“You're doing so well, my lady,” purred Gruvo. “You like this form better, don’t you? Now you’re going to have to tell me…” He grabbed her left foot, nodules helping him to grip despite the oil. He raised his other hand, showing her his knobby fingers, wiggling them slightly. “Where did you put the tome? Which one of you has it? You will tell me.” He lowered his hand and Vex felt those fingers, noduled on three sides, force their way between her toes and start sawing back and forth.

[MATT: That’s another CON save. With disadvantage.]

[LAURA: I KNOW!! ……… There is a thud as her head hits the table.]

[TRAVIS: barks with laughter]

[LIAM: Yeah, that’s a natural 1.]

[MATT: Hmm. I think that’s Vex’ahlia’s worst spot.]

[the entire table cracks up]

[LIAM: That’s canon now, motherfuckers!!!]

[SAM: Go update the wiki!! Hurry!!]

Vex shrieked as the nodules raked her sensitive toes, her normally sultry voice going full soprano. “NYYAAAAHOOO!!!! NOHO!!! AHA!!! AHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!”

“Tell me, Vex’ahlia!!” Gruvo bellowed triumphantly, and through the horrific tickling on her belly and armpit - the pigeon had switched to her left - she felt that hand grip her toes and bend them back. “NO!!! NO!! NONONONO!!!” Vex cried, but it didn’t matter. Gruvo took one noduled index finger and scrubbed back and forth across the top of the ball of her foot and under her toes. “AAAAAAAGH!!! IT’S SCANLAN!!! SCANLAAAAANN!!! AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!”

“The little gnome, you say? Then he will be next on our list. My shrieking, laughing beauty, I will drive you mad!!!” howled Gruvo as he continued to saw under her toes.

Just then, the door slammed open from a mighty kick. Gruvo stopped what he was doing and rose with a start. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III planted his front foot and leveled his pistols at the astonished warlock.

[TALIESIN: Natural 20. 23. And another natural 20.]

[the table cheers as Matt shakes his head ruefully]

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Gruvo’s chest exploded, then his shoulder, then his face. Even as he started to fall backwards, Vax’ildan swept past Percy into the room, swift as a shadow. Dagger, dagger, dagger! One pigeon shot off Vex’s chest, transfixed by a knife, then the other fell upon her belly and slid off. The third dagger buried itself in Gruvo’s ruined chest as he collapsed to the floor. The warlock was stone dead in a matter of seconds.

“Well. That was easy,” said Percy, checking his guns for damage. “I guess the tentacle monster was the real threat… darling! What in heaven’s name happened to you?! Did he hurt you?”

However, Vex’ahlia was not looking at her betrothed. She was glaring daggers right past him at her twin brother. Percy looked to Vax and saw he was wearing his most teasing smirk.

“Don’t just STAND there!!” yelled Vex, out of breath, sweat coating her brow, braid half undone from thrashing about. “Let me out, ya asshole!!”

“Oh, dear sister,” Vax said smarmily. “What an interesting predicament we find ourselves in.” “WE?!?! Get me out of here, you shi-”

“Percy.” Vax clapped his hand on the human’s shoulder. “Did you know my sister is terribly ticklish?”

“So’re you, ya fucker!!” screamed Vex as Percy blushed scarlet.

“Yes, I am. She always won tickle fights when we were growing up.” Vax’s face was all mock sorrow. “I can’t help but see a golden opportunity… to get even.”

“YOU WOULDN’T!! YOU CAN’T!!”

“Her feet were really bad, the couple times I got them,” Vax said to Percy. “I think there was this one time I got right under her toes, and she shrieked-”

“NO!! DON’T YOU DARE!! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!!!”

The rest of the team started filing in behind Vax and Percy, coming to see what all the commotion was. A slow grin was creeping across Percy’s face, a grin Vex’ahlia did not like to see at all.

“I’ll tell you what, Vax. I see this as a great opportunity for some team bonding. I think everyone should get in on this.”

“WHAT?!?!?!”

“Come on, everyone!” Percy waved all of Vox Machina into the room. Scanlan was already rubbing his hands together as he walked to her stocked feet. Grog started guffawing as he walked behind the backboard and started to reach over for her armpits. Keyleth hung back, watching with wide eyes as Pike joined Vax at Vex’s tummy.

“All right,” declared Percy in his most noble voice, “on my signal. Keyleth, get over here, everyone participates. I get a foot, Scanlan, you don’t get both to yourself. Ready?” “NO!!! FUCK NO!!! FUCK YOU ALL!!!”

“One… two… and begin!”

They would eventually let Vex’ahlia out, far sooner than Gruvo the warlock would have. Until that time, however, the air rang with laughter, and only a few swears - because, as Vex would have to admit to herself later, being tickled by friends was actually pretty special. Or at least better than being held captive by a creep with “nodule” hands.

#critickle role #tickle fic #ticklish!vex'ahlia #lee!vex'ahlia

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crossroadsdimension · 9 months

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Final Fantasy 1 Overworld Theme in Final Fantasy 16 Represents a Character's Harmful Fantasy (Part 3)

(Part 1 here ; part 2 here )

This post will cover the last instances I noticed of the FF1 theme; do not touch this unless you have all the Eikonic abilities and are ready to go on to the final boss. Or, if you've beaten the game, which would probably be better.

So, let's get to Ultima and what he has fantasized, and how harmful it is to himself and the people around him.

Ultima's Best-Laid Plans

Like Barnabas, Ultima has 2 instances of the FF1 theme -- "Death Shall Me Devour" and " 'Neath the Pall," which not only has the slow, calm, certain, ominous beat of Barnabas' themes, but also the constant, upward-leading notes that are a staple to Ultima's themes.

They also throw in choirs singing the melody instead of instruments, because why not. All-male choir for "Death Shall Me Devour," and a haunting woman soloist for " 'Neath the Pall," after a very different introduction from the other songs mentioned before this point. They even play with the melody a little more with the latter of Ultima's FF1 songs.

They come one right after the other in the soundtrack and in the game, so let's talk about them!

"Death Shall Me Devour" is played when Clive and Joshua fight Ultima in the Rift, rather than having to make the climb all the way to the heart of Drake's Spine to take out the Mothercrystal (which, by the way -- how many people noticed that those things start screaming louder and louder depending on how many of them you've taken out? I thought those were Fallen sealing Ultima away and that we were taking out the seal until proven otherwise.)

Anyway, Mothercrystals aside, the fight has us going against Ultima after he's just explained what happened in his past and what he came here to accomplish: that his people destroyed their world by sucking it dry of aether after they learned how to do magic, causing Ultima to flee to a new world, set up shop, and plan to use the aether of this world to make a world where they don't have to worry about anything bad happening again. I'm paraphrasing, but anyone who's beaten the game knows what Ultima wants.

The song is slow, certain, and definitely pulls more of the ominous-divine idea than Barnabus' two did -- in fact, it adds layers, because now we're in the face of his god and he needs a choir to go with those strings, along with that simple inclining melody in the background just making everything more unnerving.

Ultima is confident in his fantasy. He is confident that everything will turn out as is required, and that he will be able to settle into his vessel as intended, whether or not Mythos wants him in there. The fact that Clive and Joshua both deny his right to be their god and claim they have every right to live free lives with the wills they have does not shake his resolve. No, that comes a little later, after the brothers have done their damndest to beat the snot out of Ultima.

I think it goes without saying that Ultima's fantasy is one that would hurt everyone in existence as far as Valestheia is concerned. Getting the snot beat out of him is the least of what he deserves.

" 'Neath the Pall" plays as the second phase of the fight in the rift, when Ultima powers up for a second go and the rift starts to warp around them. He isn't showing emotion here, but I imagine he's starting to become irritated with the two humans in front of him who refuse to bend the knee. This Ultima is only a fraction of the many pieces that make up the whole collective, as the lore entries call it, and he will show the brothers a fraction of what makes him a god to humans. The way this version of the song starts is very similar to "Logos," later, when the fight is between two Eikons and not two humanoid men. The beginning of " 'Neath the Pall," with the fight between Joshua, Clive, and Ultima, hints at what will come.

Ultima still believes that he is in the right, that his fantasy will become reality. However, his confidence starts to falter, even if he doesn't realize it yet. And it is this that hints at when his fantasy begins to fall apart.

He still plans to take Clive, yes, even when Joshua steps in and prevents Clive from being emptied out by Ultima's machinations. He merely plans to wait for the moment when Clive will be truly alone to try and beat the soul out of the body the old-fashioned way. He's waited a thousand years and more; what's a little longer to a god?

Except he isn't a god, and he can't create a new world with the aether of another. And he certainly can't do it alone.

It's when Clive and every ally he's made on his journey stand up to Ultima that his plans truly fall apart. Because Ultima thought he could do this alone, and thus has to face them alone.

We don't get to see Ultima's fantasy truly fall apart until the final boss fight, but considering he's been the one being the curtain or the entirety of the game, that's to be expected. I'm sure if Barnabas had lived long enough to witness this himself, he would become a broken man, lost in the reality that his god was beaten by the very vessel meant to house him. There's some good, sweet irony in that.

#cross' rambling #cross' analysis #ff16 #ff16 spoilers #ff16 music #ffxvi #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #story analysis #character analysis #ultima #song analysis #music analysis

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hot-footed-heir · 4 months

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Hey there. You're a faller right? Can you tell me a bit about your world? I'm interested in fallers due to being between dimensions and there beingna chance I could stumble upon your world in my travels

- Quasar ( @rogue-nebula )

I'll be the first to admit, I... don't actually know much about the surface world even back home. All I knew was a small area surrounding Mother's former home.

I have, however, quite the in-depth knowledge of the Underworld I called home. Let's start from the bottom and work our way up, shall we? One of the few possessions I managed to keep between worlds was a map of home.

<Zzt, I'm gonna put this all in a Read More to save space. Read on if you wanna hear Zag's ramblings about his home, zzt!>

The lowest level, surrounded by the River Styx, is Tartatus. Here lies the seat of power in the Underworld. The House of Hades. Where all departed souls come to be processed and set free to roam the endless halls and structures. Here we have the Pool of Styx, where I and all other souls awoke upon their demise. This was home for me for the longest time. A home I... well. Let's not linger on emotions for now.

My attempts to escape often crossed paths with Sisyphus and the boulder he affectionately named Bouldy. He mellowed out in the centuries of his punishment, I'll tell you that. The first major obstacle to my escape laid past him: The Furies. I died a great many times to them, but many more I sent them back to the Pool of Styx and went on my way.

The next level up, formerly verdant plains were flooded by the heated contents of the river Phlegethon. Here was the least habitable and, frankly, least pleasant of all the levels for me. The only solace when I passed through here was the home of Eurydice. Her song and food always perked me up enough to keep going. The major hurdle here was the Lernaean Bone Hydra, the animated remains of the great beast felled by Heracles. I ended up fighting her so many times I started shortening the name to just Lernie. Hers was often the most fun fight for me, if a bit too hot for my liking.

Second level from the top was where the champions of the Underworld dwelt. A veritable paradise where only the greatest champions of humanity were deemed fit to reside. Elysium. It was here I helped allow Achilles visits to his partner in life, Patroclus. The gifts he provided were often instrumental in my successful escapes. Past them was the Colosseum where champions brawled, and one of my nemeses teamed with one of my most respected foes. The former king of Athens, Theseus, partnered with Asterius, the Bull of Minos. It was often a struggle to get past them, but get past them I did often enough.

I would be at the surface now, but within the most challenging of levels. The Temple of Styx. My escape here was always blocked by my good friend Cerberus. I... never had the heart to hurt him, but he would have no quarrel with bringing me back home. I had to bring him one of his favorite snacks: A sack of Satyr... stuff. I never actually looked what was in it. But it was enough to bribe him into leaving his post and allowing me by.

Finally, there was the surface world. But I was not yet free, for one last obstacle stood in my way. An obstacle that, more times than not, sent me back home. Hades. Father. The times I was defeated by him were humiliating. However, the far fewer times I managed to strike him down and send HIM back to the Pool of Styx? Those were the most satisfying moments. Not only was I proving Father wrong, I surpassed him and was free.

...Well. Mostly. See, while nothing else stood in the way of my freedom, I was never truly free from the Underworld. My soul, tied to it as I was, could not remain outside the Underworld for long. It was invariably here that I was sent back home to the House of Hades. At very least in the latter escapes I had enough time to take care of Mother's garden before the Fates decided on whatever cruel joke to send me home in death.

Well, that's my summary of my home world. The Underworld of it, at least. Never could travel much farther than Mother's cottage.

#Anonymous #Prince's Chronicles #Pokemon #Pokemon RP #Pokemon IRL #Rotomblr

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elendsessor · 1 month

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something i noticed about the story of world (and to a lesser extent iceborne) is how many elements were built on from 4/4ultimate. they’re few and far between but are done well for the most part!

but where it absolutely succeeded the most is how it improved upon a plot point in 4 ultimate’s added high rank story campaign, that being the siege.

both feature an elder dragon with at least some relation to snow at the entrance to a town having to be repelled using the power of friendship(?) and a big ass canon, plus both having a uniqueish theme (probably the weakest aspect of vel’s because rusted kushala got a special theme (that’s better than the normal kushala theme i wish they kept it and that it didn’t play only once) meanwhile vel’s is just her theme shortened and with less instruments)).

the npcs in worldborne stand around and do nothing compared to the ace hunters and the mechanics within the siege are pretty underwhelming, sure, but the story buildup was sooooo much better.

while the ace commander is the one to tell the player his history with rusted really started when his master took a bullet for him, we never see it. we don’t really get that urgency. the pre rendered cutscene with their second encounter helps establish the tension between them but there’s not as much urgency. we actually get to see velkhana doing shit, showing the actual danger she poses, and when she full on predicts the huntsman’s attack and counters?? that’s how you know she’s actually a threat and not just there because we need conflict. having that brief battle encounter before the siege also helps a ton.

also the ball doesn’t stop rolling with her retreating. to fight rusted kushala in 4u after the high rank story, you have to beat gogmazios aka the final boss of g rank. you then eventually get the quest (i think after deciphering one of the ancient texts i don’t remember) but even then, if you want to fight rusted in the battlequarters, you’ll have to wait until it cycles into the optional battlequarters siege quests, which can take multiple in game days (and you have to beat whatever shows up just to get a chance at rusted reappearing so prepare for teo, chameleos, and apex steve to ruin your day until then). most people stop 4u after beating goggy so they miss out on a ton of quests already and you’ll have to exercise a ton of patience. rusted’s not even fun??? after that initial story quest it’s worse kushala and given how monsters are programmed in 4u, yeah it hits like a train and having a full squad barely evens the odds.

you get straight to velkhana and her fight is so damn cool. fast paced and challenging but also fair, and you can actually hit her without having to deal with pushback every 2 seconds. really should be the ultimate standard for story siege quests.

#shantien rambles #monster hunter #monster hunter world

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toughaqua777 · 1 year

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I Just Had an Idea

Well, multiple ideas and thoughts that go together. Put under Keep Reading because long post again. But just in case, TL;DR: Russo’s clone appeared earlier than we think, Russo’s been absent since the meeting on the spaceship, and Mr. B lookin’ a little sus ngl

I believe that Russo’s clone (who from here on out I will refer to as “Ruse”) was made before Russo was kidnapped. In fact, Russo went missing while still on the spaceship to the lobby. Hear me out.

In the trailer for Season 3, we cut to the three hosts while on the spaceship, and as we know, they’re debating how they were gonna do all the challenges and whatnot. After Mr. B makes contact (and eventually disconnects), Russo seems pretty delighted about the concept that Mr. B put forth about the Bits:

“Wait, guys, this is great! Yeah, the Season 3 final battle we made got destroyed with the new lobby and we weren’t sure what we were gonna do with the grand prize items, but now we have a reason to earn them!”

But at some point, when you talk to Russo(?), he says this:

“Why is everyone looking for bits of our instruments? That has to be impossible to find! You’re all wasting your time if you ask me!”

A little contrary, isn’t it?

And keep in-mind, the Bits are used to create tools for Battlers to assist with dealing with whoever/whatever caused the incident at the concert. It’s only natural if someone who didn’t want the tools to be made would want to deter others from finding them, right?

“But wait,” you might ask, “That was AFTER at least one match-up in the tournament already happened! Maybe Russo got replaced after that!” And you’d have a point!

But recall what happened on the spaceship.

After Sabrina announces that they’ve almost arrived at the old lobby, the spaceship takes massive damage out of nowhere. We never learn what exactly caused that, do we? And after everyone scrambles around doing tasks for a bit, an emergency meeting is called...also out of nowhere. No, seriously, no one knows who/what called it. And the following takes place:

DJ: “Wait, if everyone’s here, why are we having an emergency meeting?”

Russo(?): “Uhhh, must’ve been a false alarm.”

And that’s it, basically. He dismisses the meeting shortly afterwards.

Basically, my idea is that the damage to the ship was caused by something--or rather, someone--penetrating the ship and infiltrating it. This causes everyone to scramble to complete tasks, including the hosts. With everyone separated, it would be the perfect time for someone to strike.

This is where Ruse comes in.

He goes on to find Russo and attack him, nabbing the latter’s sword so he can’t fight back. In a panic, Russo rushes to activate the emergency meeting...but it’s too late for him. Ruse grabs him and either locks him away elsewhere on the ship, or straight-up throws him out. Remember, Russo (or rather Ruse) is the last person to enter the room, and he arrives somewhat late in comparison to the other two hosts, so him doing all of this beforehand is entirely possible.

Either way, Ruse’s intention? To kill Russo and take his place so everything else went without a hitch.

But obviously, whether by a miracle in getting thrown out, a miracle in the crashing of the spaceship, or in somehow escaping the locked room he was in before crashing, Russo survives. Probably not unscathed (physically or mentally), but he survives.

Because of everything that had just gone down, Russo decides that he needs to figure out where Ruse came from, who or what he was created by, his creator’s goal, etc. But not wanting to endanger anyone (and not wanting to cause panic and delay/cancel Season 3 as a whole), he lays low for a while.

That doesn’t stop him from leaving clues behind nor does it stop him from helping from the sidelines. What do I mean by this?

Well, think about it: The mystery lobby was likely made by JP and Netpunk as a whole, right? Why would they deliberately leave behind methods of powering up the tools made by the Bits if they didn’t want them to be found (if Ruse deterring others from finding them is any indication)? They wouldn’t. It wouldn’t make sense. But it wasn’t Mr. B either; he says himself that he has no idea how to power the tools. So who would at least try to develop methods of doing so without making it too obvious (making them challenging to do both as a test to which Battler would be capable of helping and to avoid suspicion from JP & Netpunk)?

Russo.

Russo was also the one who would write the message on the wall that DJ and the Battlers would find: “DON’T TRUST RUSSO, TRUST ME!” It was Russo trying to lay the hint that Ruse wasn’t him! However, when DJ confronted who he thought was Russo about it, he was dismissed.

But in reality, it made Ruse realize something: Russo was still alive.

This is why “Russo” vanished afterwards; not only to keep tabs on the development of the final battle, but to hunt down Russo!

That said, Ruse probably didn’t inform JP about this. He probably wanted JP to believe the development of the final battle was going without a hitch and/or he thought he could deal with Russo himself.

Meanwhile, Russo’s still gathering intel and as a result he, I believe, got himself a JP disguise. This is possible thanks to the Skin Changer in the lobby that allows us Battlers to look like the competitors & the hosts, or at least it utilized the same tech. He did this to get more intel on Netpunk that he wasn’t able to obtain otherwise. By infiltrating the very source of the issue, he could figure out more.

This disguise was so perfect, it even tricked his counterpart. Recall the “Everything is in place!!” short. That was Ruse we saw with JP...or rather, Russo disguised as JP. The facade fades, however, as soon as the real JP’s voice is heard over the intercom, forcing Russo to take what he could get at the time and bail out. We never hear the disguised person talk, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

After a while (whether Ruse went to chase after him after the short or not), the two confront each other. Whatever happened then, it ends with Ruse being defeated (possibly even killed), and Russo taking his sword back and moving forward to save his friends from an untimely fate. Perhaps he even sent whatever intel he had to JParty in case something went down (like falling lost through the Metaverse) so he could move-in to pull a last-minute save.

I understand that this whole thing still has holes, but I think I can fill a few of them.

1) Why did JP & Netpunk allow the Bit tools to be made at all?

Perhaps it was overconfidence; JP may have believed that even if the tools were powered, no one would be able to stop them. They also could’ve known that they wouldn’t be powered just by being made, which would make Russo developing ways they could be all the more impactful.

2) How would Ruse be made at all?

Well, how was “The Great Woman” made? She was a clone of Sabrina that didn’t come out right. The tech probably isn’t perfect. That said, Ruse might’ve been more accurate to Russo due to having a more physical basis. That basis, I believe, is the Russo Plush. No, I’m not kidding. It’s available in the shop in the lobby and it’s the spitting image of the man in-question. That’s a stretch though.

So, as an alternative...

Well, we need to talk about a certain someone: Mr. Boringsworth.

OK, listen. Mr. B was kidnapped by JP early on, being forced to make the artificial sun and build the spaceship that would be used to go to it. And remember the short I mentioned earlier: Ruse stated that Mr. B was the one who set-up the subway to not work until a certain time. Also, he was likely released after making the sun so he could make the spaceship in the concert lobby (I mean, how else was he gonna make that thing?). And since the hosts knew about it, this part’s no secret.

But one would think that, after being released, he would’ve said something to warn the hosts. Or better yet, just didn’t make the spaceship at all.

So, what if he’s still in-danger? What if he’s being forced to do more? What if he already has done more?

For all we know, he probably has a lot of intel on the hosts in-general; he could’ve provided the info needed to help make the clones, even if the tech to make said clones is flawed. I doubt he’d do so willingly, unless he was under threat of...something. He stated that he “didn’t have a choice” to make the sun and spaceship, but maybe he was being threatened with death?

Or heck, maybe even blackmail?

We don’t actually know much about the guy when you think about it. He’s clearly very intelligent; in Season 2, he gave off the impression that he was a teacher of sorts, but now? He’s a mechanical genius; a spaceship, personal tools utilizing powerful Bits, an artificial sun with an extremely strong gravitational pull...for all we know, he even made the swords of the hosts!

But that only makes me wonder...Who is he, exactly? What’s his background? Maybe he’s just smart. But maybe there’s more to it.

Just who are you, Mr. B?

ANYWAY, thanks for coming to my infodump lol

#long post #very long post #rb battles #roblox #roblox battles #theory #help im too invested

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latin-dr-robotnik · 11 months

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🎸, 🎤, 🎧, 😘 :)

🎸 Favorite Stage Theme?

Carnival Night Act 2, next question. lol no

In all seriousness, this person right here is extremely partial to Hard Times Act 1, what can I say, I'm a simple guy :P

Though, to be honest, something about the Buxer tracks is so... well constructed, even in comparison to the rest of S3K's already top tier OST. Of course the song itself is from the 80's, but the way it was translated to Genesis, the choices in instruments, those crunchy samples taking over the least amount of cartridge space possible in the game's already gargantuan size. Flying Battery and Death Egg are beautiful tracks, but something about the way they got IceCap working still amazes.

As for 3D Sonic, lately I've been feeling Skyscraper Scamper Night a lot. It's the kind of song I think of when I'm about to stream and I have to pick a Sonic song to play from my almost 500 track playlist. I fucking hate Skyscraper Scamper Act 1 with a burning passion, but you can never be mad at Kumatani's music :P

🎤 Favorite Vocal Track?

Every Sonic Frontiers boss, oh, and One Way Dream.

I cannot possibly understate just how much this OST changed my life. This wasn't my first rodeo, I've been here for years and I've spent a lot of my time listening to Sonic OSTs both new and old. When Forces came out, I celebrated the fact vocal songs were back, and I wanted more. I love Sonic vocal songs, and for a long time With Me was my go-to vocal song. But holy fuck these tracks blew me away.

My expectations were surpassed. Final boss-tier songs playing every four hours or so, and probably my favorite credits theme ever in this franchise. It felt like playing through the final battles of Sonic Adventure 2, Heroes and Black Knight over and over again, all in one game. The bar was set very high before this game, and now it's even higher.

And, of course, I picked Find Your Flame as my absolute favorite. I think it perfectly represents Sonic as a whole. Confident, fighting to the very end for his mission, sticking by his friends, very high energy, very powerful and, in the end, a moment to calm down and reflect on the best things in life, that flame that keeps him going.

🎧 Favorite overall soundtrack?

Sonic Unleashed. It and CD are still at the top, but Sonic Frontiers came very close to stealing that, too. The thing I still love about Unleashed's OST is the overall variety, it's so well-rounded and high quality, aged just as beatifully as the game itself. Also, I live for jazzy Sonic tunes, they always hit different.

😘 Favorite ship?

I see you mentioning KnuxAmy here and there, and I'm a bit guilty of not talking about that underrated ship more. Low-key it's still one of my favorites :P (One day I'll finish that Angel Island fic, maybe)

I'm sorry, I was very busy enjoying the absolutely wonderful state of SonAmy in 2023 :P

And tbh I'm not as active in the shipping side of the fandom as I used to

#ask latin dr robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #sonamy #took me a while to answer this ask sorry haha #things are still a bit messy and i kinda keep tumblr closed #but i'll try to be more active this weekend to answer more asks #so anyone feel free to send more #in case you were wondering - weather is better now #it's just... other things happened this week #some of them related to the sonic fandom #i guess there's no rest for the wicked #anyway i love gushing about sonic music and it's been a long time #forgot to tell i finally listened to the entirety of free riders' ost on stream months ago #i've been looking into less-talked sonic games

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fullplaidponydreamer · 1 year

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Meet Martez, the Twst Version Of Maria Robotnik

Name: Martez Rotron

Nicknames: Marty, Tez, Robot Boy

Age: 19

Birthday: July 1st

Starsign: Cancer

Species: Human

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 5'6

Hair: Curly Blonde

Eye Color: Light Blue

Family: None that he would talk about

Homeland: Space Colony

Twisted From: Maria Robotnik from Sonic X Series

School: Hourglass Academy

Class: 3rd Year

Dorm: Tetravania

Occupation: Student

Club: None (Poor boy is shy)

Best Class: Any Health, Bio or Science related classes

Dominant Hand: Right handed

Favorite Food: Sweets

Least Favorite Food: Anything spicy (Low spice tolerance)

Likes: Hiding in the library to read, Quiet Spaces, Music (Loves instrumentals especially), Nature, Animals, Space, Astrology

Dislikes: Hospitals, Needles, Medicine he has to take, Overly loud noises, Violence

Hobby: Star Gazing, Nature Gazing

Talent: Medical Knowledge/Empathy

Unique Magic: Warm Heart

Martez's Unique Magic Warm Heart is a power based upon Empathy. He is able to feel the emotions of those around him while also being able to allow them to gradually feel his in small bits. The downside of this ability is that when he uses it, his body temperature drops ridiculously low and he gets sick and needs to rest for a certain period of time which already adds to his frail condition currently. Usually he is good at being able to connect with people emotionally but it is mostly used to help when someone is hurting and they need help or when he is helping someone who is erratic and he cannot get to them with words so he has to use it as a last resort.

Personality: Martez is very much a pacifist sweetheart, a soft spoken person and a sweet caring individual. He likes to try and stay happy and bring others happiness when he can and he is always optimistic about any circumstance that he is put under. He is very understanding with people even those with the hardest shell and he has a severe amount of patience when handling a person and he always does his best to keep the peace. He is supportive of everyone and their dreams and he accepts everyone as who they are. If you commit bad deeds infront of him or are about to react to something violently he will always try and diffuse the situation with talking because he can't stand fighting at all.

Backstory:

Martez was the Grandson of great scientists within the space colony who worked on special projects of creatures and humans being mixed together in order to study life and their DNA. Martez was sadly one of the reasons the experiments took place because they were trying to find a cure for him for a disease that he had that made him physically weak and ill and they though they could do it using the test trials and creating new medicines. He hated the experiments however and wished it to end but he had no physical power to make it stop. So he tried make it easier by trying to befriend the test subjects and one of them happened to have been saphira. He and Saphira had grown quite close and Spahira shared with him that she heard things from the guards about the outside world and Martez would try and provide little stories in order to provide some sort of comfort even though he had not seen as much either. When it seemed thr experiments would get worse and Saphira and the others were in danger, Martez decided he had to do something so he helped Saphira and the rest escape. Sadly he realized that he was dragging her behind and he was dead weight for the griup so he sent Saphira off with the rest before they could get caught and provided them time to escape. When the two were separated, Martez had Saphira make a promise to him. And the promise was that saphira would enjoy the world for him. And that she would make her own life and explore everything that her and Martez never got to properly see. And that was the last that he had seen of her.... Until now. Martez had finally been able to escape his family and the space colony. And now is coming to Hourglass Academy to find his friend and finally live a new life.

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wr3n-writes · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1: Zira Sevaan

I really really hope you guys like it!!

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tw// war, death, blood, gore, and other potentially triggering content

For the second time that week, Zira Sevaan finds herself on the battlefield, sword straight through a soldier’s heart. She kills enemy after enemy as war rages on around her. The sounds of weapons clashing and shouts of pain act as the grim accompaniment to something even more horrid. Bodies belonging to both sides fall to the ground with heavy thuds. She realizes, absently, that the God of Death will have many new souls to add to his kingdom.

For a fleeting moment, it’s haunting for Zira to realize that only her sword is keeping her alive. It’s thrilling, though. Exhilarating, to fight and kill to the grim songs of war. A dark orchestra playing her favorite songs. The sounds of blades hitting metal armor were the timpanis. The screech of metal against metal; a broken violin played by an over-eager child. The screams of pain; the final addition to the chilling symphony of battle. They are the choir. The group of eerie voices added to punctuate the instruments.

Zira likens the soldiers to dancers in a ballroom as avoids another deadly strike.

Combat is a dance the young girl knows too well. Leaving your life on the line should not have been normal, but it was. Zira knows that her life has been anything but ordinary, but if it gives her a few more minutes alive, she’d pray her thanks to the gods above every night. War was designed to break and kill, not challenge and thrill.

If Zira dared to look away from the blade hurtling straight for her throat, she’d see that no one else was mirroring the feline grin curving her features. She stays focused in favor of living. The smirk only grows when her sword gets soaked in blood once again.

Movements swift and deliberate, Zira spins around to face her next opponent. The orchestra playing the sonatas of carnage swell as she slashes with the graceful strength and regal accuracy that only warriors in myths are said to possess. The girl does not falter, does not hesitate for even a heartbeat. For to do so would be giving in to Siles’ beckoning hands. Zira would much rather betray everything she holds dear than surrender to the God of Death. Much rather give up her place on this battlefield than hand over her soul on a silver platter.

Throwing herself to the side to evade another attack, her boot collides with a piece of armor. The girl doesn’t need to risk a glance to know it’s worn by a body that will never move again. The metal sings to her, though, and Zira knows by now not to resist a battlesong. Reaching out with ferrokinetic powers honed over years of brutal training, she makes the plate of armor into a shield just in time to save her life. She’s awarded a few more breaths for this, at least.

The woman - the soldier - in front of Zira looks as somber as the death all around. Her pale green eyes don’t shimmer with the excitement of facing a new challenge. Zira can see the resignation and resolve that seems to weigh her down with each lackluster attack she blocks. With each second their fight continues, though, more cracks form in the useless facade. Every new crevice reveals the defeat hiding beneath.

Zira has seen this expression on many faces. She has seen defeat and hopelessness darken many gazes. It does not change in death. The faces of the corpses littered around her were still contorted in faces of pure terror. Those were the ones she killed. Their blood painted her blade, splattered across the royal circlet on her forehead.

Zira spares a precious second to observe the enemy soldier’s form. Adrenaline pumps the blood in her veins even faster as she notices that the woman’s technique is breaking down with the weight of exhaustion on her armored shoulders. Her opponent, just another target to strike down, slashes viciously at the girl’s head.

“Move away from the blade just enough to not get cut. Any more, and your form will break down. You will lose speed. You cannot afford to lose speed.” Wise teachings repeat themselves in Zira’s head.

The other soldier is surprised by just how quickly Zira recovers. The girl slashes her blade, forcing the enemy back again. She is on the offensive once more, in control of a fight she was always sure to win.

“Always stay on the offensive. Push your opponent back enough to disorient them. Make them trip over your own feet.”

And Zira remembers that there is one more element to the symphony she is far too familiar with. A teacher who has guided you through the precise steps. The moves that must never be forgotten on the battlefield’s bloody ballroom floor. Their advice is absolute, to be followed without fail. To disobey would mean to fail. When it comes to the dance of death, failure means that you will join the corpses on the ruined earth.

“Above all else, finish the fight.”

All it takes is a decisive stab into an area left exposed by broken armor.

The royal warrior girl hears the same muffled thud, when her dying opponent’s body hits the ground. It is unremarkable. Unceremonious. Just another body. Another casualty in this war far bigger than the years she’s lived. Finally allowed a few moments to breathe, Zira takes a closer look at the now-dead woman’s armor. And it becomes clear that, like Zira, she was of a much higher rank than the others all around.

A badge, dented and half covered by its wearer’s blood, is set into the breastplate of the silver armor. Ordinary, common soldiers do not have a badge. Their armor is plain. Simple sheets of metal meant to provide suitable protection. The body in front of Zira, though, is the last wearer of armor etched so intricately with graceful whorls. The scratches and dents make it difficult to tell, but even still, Zira knows that her most recent kill is no ordinary soldier.

Someone else notices the body at her feet. The sun decides to betray her, shining its bright rays right onto the surface of the insignia badge. The rebounding flash is nearly blinding. A beacon to another casualty.

The soldier is shocked; eyes widening. He seems to suddenly realize, in this moment, who lays dead before him. His leader, sergeant, general, whoever. The one who is meant to guide him. Zira watches as emotions flash behind his tortured gaze. She watches as he dashes away.

Moments later, a voice rises above the din. It is commanding, firm. It grabs the attention of those it needs to. Zira notes it reminds her of thundering drums. Another soldier she doesn’t recognize yells out a command.

“Retreat!”

The ultimate surrender. A white flag in the form of words. An official announcement of giving up. The command that tells Zira she has gained ground for her kingdom once more. This battle is over now. Of course, it was always destined to end eventually.

Zira walks back towards camp, away from the bodies she leaves littered across the bloodstained earth, and thanks the gods above for… nothing really. She knows her prayers of gratitude are purely ritual, a habit picked up from the soldiers she’s spent so much time around.

Though she is the highest ranking fighter for the kingdom of Imani, Princess Zira Sevaan doesn’t call out to her own forces. They simply, perhaps blindly, follow her lead, walking back to camp. Those who cannot walk themselves wait until they can be moved on the cots stacked in the medical tent. And the dead? They will be collected and buried back home. Zira will return to her office and begin writing letters of condolence to their families. As is customary.

Paused at the top of the ridge, Zira looks down once more at the fleeing army. She has to remind herself that this battle does not matter. It is simply another stalemate. The Lazian forces have retreated, but they have not given up. Next week - or in two days time, if they are quick - they will attack once again. And once again, Zira Sevaan will look down to see the blade of her sword dipped in blood the color of molten rubies. It is the routine. The way of a warrior.

◄ ◆ ►

The water turns a murky red as Zira washes away the blood and dirt from her hands. She grimaces, trying not to think about what is matted in her dark brown, braided hair. She doesn’t touch the cuts on her face yet, saves them for later.

The scrapes on her skin should sting. Her body should be aching, but she feels no pain yet. It will set in later, when she is back home. When she is finally back in her chambers, alone, in the quiet of night, she will start to hurt. Her muscles will begin to throb and pulse with pain and every tear in her sunkissed skin will burn. But for now, she is numb. This is normal for her.

She watches the aftermath of the battle. Just below the camp, below the top of the ridge, soldiers help the wounded. Perhaps they are friends, providing a shoulder of support as the painful walk back is made. Or perhaps they are simply part of the same group. Others are carefully lifted onto stretchers. The Healers will tend to them immediately. Motionless bodies still carpet the ground. Their faces are frozen. Blood has long stopped gushing from their fatal wounds.

Later, as the sun sets, she will gather everyone to the center of camp to honor the dead. General of the Army and Princess, Zira will lead them all in a silent vigil. At first, when she was too much of a novice to lead the few minutes of mourning, the vigils would claw at her heart. Tears would threaten to fall. She has seen too many vigils, led too many, to care anymore. Now, she just appreciates the pretty sunsets.

“General Sevaan.” A voice breaks the princess from her thoughts and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

Zira turns her head. “Colonel Arrowood.” She notes that the colonel is favoring one leg, exhaustion drawing down the young woman’s pale features and dulling her dark brown eyes. The princess makes a mental note to reevaluate the colonel next training session.

Arrowood salutes her general, a closed fist touching the badge set in her armor, head inclined in respect. In the back of her mind, Zira wonders if that respect is genuine, or if it’s purely muscle memory, saluting to your senior officer.

Zira knows the people she’s around, knows the colonel well enough to know what her next question means.

“May I offer my thoughts about the battle, General?”

Here, on the outskirts of a battlefield, the royal circlet on the Sevann girl’s head means nothing. Here, she is only a general. Perhaps that is why she likes it better here, anyway.

“You may.”

The Colonel hesitates before she speaks, perhaps finally sensing the gravitas of her previous words. She measures the severity of her next ones too. “You have caused a problem, General.”

Caught off guard, Zira arches an eyebrow. Only seventeen, she is too used to all variations of confrontation, but this bold accusation is surprising. The girl almost doubts her own ears. She keeps her face impassive, however.

It is both brave and foolish, the way Colonel Arrowood continues to speak.“Your actions will have diplomatic repercussions.”

It doesn’t take long for Zira to connect the dots and conclude that the colonel is talking about the woman- the soldier she just killed. The enemy are never people, she has to remind herself. To recognize your opposition as a person is to weaken you. She knows that weakness is failure. Everyone knows that failure leads to death.

“You killed a general.”

“I will deal with it.”

The Colonel still speaks freely, her authoritative and reserved tone having faded with every daring word she speaks. Her stiff movements have become more relaxed. “Her Majesty will not be pleased.”

From years of practice, Zira has learned how to speak clearly through gritted teeth. How to quickly relax tensed limbs, as well. “Her Majesty should be grateful that I will be the one tending to such a pressing issue.”

The colonel takes a step too far, always one to push the boundaries set against her. “She would also punish you for your insolence.”

“Just as I should do to you, Colonel.” Zira takes a step forward. The colonel takes a step back, purely out of reflex and that reflex gives the princess all the edge she needs. Fear is a powerful tool and she uses it well. A tense silence hangs in the air as the world seems to wait for her next words.

“I want a status report delivered to me before sunset. Casualties, injuries, and supply index.” The years working beside the queen have given Zira countless opportunities to use the cold, authoritative voice she hears so often.

The princess turns around sharply to leave before she can receive any form of protest once more. Internally, she curses at the sharp pain that explodes in her ankle with the abrupt movement. But Zira has never been one to show weakness, so she grits her teeth and walks as if the world will always bend to her will.

She walks past the medical tent, not even sparing it a glance.

The general walks right to her own tent, letting the sounds of the busy camp drown out her thoughts. Pained groans and cries are not muffled by the canvas flaps that serve as walls. Orders whispered from inside reach her ears as well. Commands to fetch clean water, fresh bandages, supplies for sutures.

The inside of Zira’s tent, like all the others, is boring. It is bigger, but no more decorated. War is not a place for luxury. She has a small cot and a place to put my armor and weapons, just like every other higher-ranked officer.

Tables and chairs for meetings occupy the extra space. Maps, scrolls, letters and extra daggers lay strewn about on the wooden surface. Metal pieces for planning are almost hidden by the papers. She sweeps them all off of the table and into the large chest they were first taken out of.

Zira turns around at the sudden sound of footsteps. Her brown eyes catch on the pale blue armband on the person hesitantly stepping into her tent. An apprentice Healer stands just inside the tent flap. “G-General?” She stutters, refusing to meet my eyes. “I was sent by the Healer to tend to your wounds.”

Zira nods and sits down, beckoning the girl to approach.

The apprentice stops right in front of the general, scanning her body for visible injuries. “Can you please remove your armor?” The tremor in her voice remains.

Zira smiles, amused, when the girl begins to fidget nervously. The princess’s lack of response is mistaken as anger.

The apprentice girl takes a step back from her patient, giving space. Zira blinks, allowing the steady awareness of metal to re-emerge from the depths of her consciousness. Using the ferrokinesis she considers to be part of her soul, Zira peels the plates of armor away from her body.

The apprentice watches with wide eyes as the armor goes to rest on the armor stand. She refocuses herself with a firm shake of her head.

“I’m guessing the blood on your tunic probably isn’t yours,” the Healer-in-training muses, hazel eyes scrutinizing every bloodstain on the princess’s white tunic. The particularly dark crimson spot near the collarbone catches her attention.

Zira offers a miniscule nod. “Most of it is not. I have a small gash on my shoulder.”

The general tenses out of instinct when soft fingers graze her skin, pulling aside the neckline of her pale garment. When those same fingers ghost over the still-gushing wound, Zira hisses.

The apprentice reaches into the leather satchel slung across her body, pulling out supplies that she lays on the table. Strips of cloth, a flask of water, a metal tin, bandages, and a small box. The princess wonders what’s inside, curiosity never failing to pull at the threads of her thoughts.

“Are there no actual Healers that can attend to me?” Zira demands when the girl removes a needle and spool of thread from the small box. The question is spoken under the guise of anger and disdain, anything to mask the fear roiling inside of her.

She already hates the tapestry of scars marring her skin. Everything sounds like just a small price to pay in exchange for less time hating herself in front of the mirror. Zira hates too many things about herself, but it’s impossible not to when everyone else hates those same things too.

The apprentice Healer flinches. “N-no, General. I’m sorry. They are all busy tending to the soldiers in critical condition. But I can absolutely call one of them over if you want me to.”

Zira makes a mental note to ask the queen about deploying more Healers to the battlefronts. “That will not be necessary, thank you.”

Her open skin stings when the wet towel makes contact. The apprentice winces at her reaction, tense frame betraying her fear. She takes the needle and thread and prepares to suture the wound.

“This is going to-”

Zira does not take kindly to being patronized. She snaps back a harsh interruption. “I have gotten stitches many times before. Just get it done.”

The apprentice Healer nods nervously, positioning herself next to Zira’s arm. With a steadying deep breath, she grabs the princess’s shoulder firmly with one hand. Zira feels the first prick as the other girl stabs my skin with the needle. Feels the pull as the sides of the wound are pulled together.

Zira tenses again at the sound of footsteps.

“Name and rank,” She calls out to the person standing outside. The apprentice freezes, resting her hands in her lap as she waits. Only one stitch is done, her job far from finished.

“Sergeant Reznor. I have the status report the Colonel told me you requested.”

“You may enter.”

A young man enters the general's tent. His eyes flicker to the apprentice Healer at Zira’s side, the neckline of her tunic pulled off of her shoulder, the partially-stitched wound. “I can… come back later if right now isn’t convenient.”

Zira waves him off, “No need. The report is important.” She signals to the apprentice that she can continue her work. The needle pricks the princess’s skin again.

Sergeant Reznor begins his status report. “We deployed 500 soldiers in today’s battle. Eighty-six died on the battlefield. Nineteen are in critical condition with very slim chances of survival. One hundred and fifty more are eligible for medical attention. The remaining two hundred and forty are fit for combat.”

The numbers are more promising than the last battle. Some of the tension in Zira’s chest fades with that little bit of reassurance.

“Very well. What about supplies?” The royal general asks, ferrokinetic powers itching to stop the needle from puncturing skin over and over. The apprentice girl finishes stitching up her patient. She quietly puts the supplies away in the little box and grabs the bandages.

“We will need to replenish our supply of arrows, shields, and various armor plates.” The sergeant thinks for another moment, recalling all of the information. “Also, you have received mail from Her Majesty.” He pulls out an envelope which he walks over to hand to Zira. The royal seal stares back at her; sword and antlers set into the red wax.

As the apprentice wraps her patient’s shoulder in bandages, Zira slips her finger under the top flap of the envelope and breaks the seal. She forces down her own dread of reading the queen’s letter.

The princess’s name and titles are printed on the top line, scrawled in familiar cursive. Zira unfolds the letter, looks it over. She sees only three paragraphs of words and finds that strange. The queen doesn’t send letters while her daughter is deployed unless it is deemed absolutely necessary. Zira knows whatever’s in the letter is urgent. Dire, even.

She reads on as the Sergeant waits. The tone-less words elicit no reaction from their recipient. The letter is refolded and returned to its envelope moments later.

“Her Majesty has requested that I return to the palace as soon as possible. I must attend an important meeting tomorrow morning.” Zira stands up as soon as the apprentice Healer steps back, fixing her tunic. “I will leave as soon as we end the vigil. Tell Colonel Arrowood that I will need her to return with me as well.”

The apprentice bows her head to me before scurrying out. Zira rolls my shoulder - forward, back, forward, back - testing it out. The muscle burns, but the stitches hold strong. The girl did her job.

“Is there anything else you need, General?” The Sergeant asks his superior. “The sun is just beginning to set. The vigil will begin in mere moments, we just need you.”

Zira summons her sword in its scabbard and fastens it to her waist. “That will be all for now, Sergeant. You may return to your team.” He salutes and turns to leave her tent. She follows right behind him as he opens the tent flap and walks out into the camp. The bottom edge of the sun has already been hidden by the horizon.

All of the healthy soldiers have gathered in the central part of camp, facing the setting sun, facing the edge of the cliff that overlooks the battlefield. Eyes snap to the royal general as she walks through the crowd towards the edge of the cliff, boots making a steady beat against the earth. She stops at the edge of the cliff and turns to face each and every one of her soldiers.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and brave people gathered on this ground, tonight we hold a sunset vigil. A silent ceremony honoring those who gave their lives today on the battlefield just below this cliff. Join me in taking a knee as we remember our fellow soldiers.” Zira knows this script by heart. Most of the soldiers do too, she’d bet.

The general draws her sword and stabs it into the earth, before taking a knee and bowing her head towards the hilt. A chorus of metal clinks, crude bells, as every soldier takes a knee, heads bowed. The sky turns to scarlet as everyone stays silent. Some close their eyes. Others let their tears fall to the earth. Tears stain the earth differently than blood, Zira muses.

They wait in silence until the sun disappears from the sky, leaving it an inky purple. Heads lift from their bowed positions. Everyone rises to their feet, returning to whatever they were doing before the vigil began.

Zira returns to her tent and begins gathering everything for the journey back to the palace. She rolls up all of the maps and slides them into map cases. Moving hastily, she packs her armor and extra weapons before walking towards the transport car that waits at the edge of camp. Other soldiers will load her things into another vehicle.

Colonel Arrowood is already waiting next to the transport. She salutes as soon as she sees Zira, snapping to attention. “General, are you ready to leave?”

The princess nod wordlessly at the Colonel and steps inside the vehicle. She follows and closes the door. As soon as both women fastened into the seats, the hulking transport vehicle takes off. Back towards the palace, towards the queen, towards Zira’s… home.

Hills flash by as the party drives past. Soon, houses dot the landscape. The transport moves swiftly, making quick work of the ground it needs to cover. Zira lets herself look out the small windows as the journey continues. It’s nearly impossible to see the houses now, in the dark of night through the tinted windows. She can still see the moon, however, and the little pinpricks of light that are stars. The Colonel watches her general for a few moments.

“If you have something to say, Colonel, do tell. Seeing as you can barely contain yourself, it must be rather interesting.” Zira turns her focus away from the scenery, staring into the colonel’s light brown eyes will cool curiosity.

She watches as her mind visibly blanches, shocked by the princess’s sudden comment. “I was just wondering if you think the diplomatic issue will blow up into even more conflict.” She asks about the War; Zira isn’t surprised. Everyone is concerned about it, these days. Perhaps they are right to worry. The kingdom of Imani is fighting the Second Continental War, and Lazia has proved to be a much greater threat than anyone initially believed.

“It is possible,” Zira decides to admit. “Her Majesty and I will be working to make sure that any further tension stays away from the battlefields and contained to the summit rooms.”

The Imanian military force is anything but weak, though. Zira doesn’t doubt for one moment that they could defeat Lazia in war if the cautious walls of diplomacy came crashing down and the war got really serious.

“Lazia is going to put up a fight. They will demand retribution for your crime, General.”

“I have dealt with Lazia many times before and I am more than capable of doing the same again.” Zira slings one leg over the other, the perfect picture of confidence and nonchalance all at once. “Do you doubt my abilities, Colonel?”

“Absolutely not, I am simply reminding you that this situation will be a challenge different to the others that you have faced.” Colonel Arrowood speaks carefully, as if treading on glass.

Zira’s patience wears thin, fraying like old rope. “Her Majesty recognizes that I am more than capable to handle matters such as this, you would do well to remember that, Colonel.”

Colonel Arrowood crosses the line with the next words that fall from her mouth.“Her Majesty would punish you for such insolent speech.”

Zira snaps. “I have half a mind to do the same to you.” Oh, how she wishes to shut the Colonel up. “I suggest you back down or you may find your position at risk, Arrowood.”

Even before she sees the defeat in the other soldier's eyes, Zira knows she’s won. The general returns to looking out the window as the transport passes by little villages. Out here, far away from the palace, the homes are small, run down. The roofs are crumbling. The people are dirty. The streets are littered with garbage. That is life here.

Silence and exhaustion make the rest of the ride quick.

A recorded message plays through the speaker embedded in the roof of the transport.

“You have reached your destination.”

Zira steps out of the transport and pauses for a heartbeat, simply breathing as she takes in the Royal Palace. The giant structure is daunting to some, understandably. The three story stone building to ornate carvings, huge pillars, giant windows stare down at anyone who enters. She is no exception as she ascends the huge flight of stairs to the double oak-wood doors.

The doors are opened by the servants inside. The queen welcomes her daughter back with fury the next day. Maybe more, certainly nothing less.

#wr3n:: tms #wr3n writes

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shiftermod · 1 year

Text

Metamorphosis’ voice

So.

A long time ago in the early 2000s, I had cable. Far more importantly, I had friends who had cable.

So, we got into this TV show called Stargate SG-1, and we’d watch it when I was over. And it was fun. Budget? Questionable. Effects? Okayish. But it was fun.

Later, at the end of a season they introduced a new character named Elizabeth who would run the base after the previous guy left for some reason.

Episode 1 of the next season they had completely replaced the actor who played Elizabeth and we suddenly had a completely different person running things.

Anyway, a few years later the previous guy from the pre-Elizabeth years came back or something—and Elizabeth goes off as leader of a new base in another galaxy in a spinoff TV show called Stargate: Atlantis, which:

a) ran immediately after Stargate: SG-1 in a sort of two-hour Stargate Programming Block,

b) very briefly had Robert Patrick in it for one, maybe two episodes tops before his character bought the farm as part of a main character’s tragic backstory,

c) was the first time I saw actor Jason Momoa in anything ever. (This is the same Jason Momoa who now plays Duncan Idaho and Aquaman.)

My viewership of this second show was sporadic, and mostly if I was over at my friends’ house. And we gradually noticed that the show had... problems.

Episode: our heroes fight a battle and lose personnel to get a new power source at great cost but now we can finally do something.

Next episode: new power source explodes, back to square one.

Most of the series continued like that! A new piece of tech that will progress the story is acquired, then it is destroyed in the next episode and we are back to status quo. It after the third or fourth time it happened it became maddening, and it eventually was the reason I finally gave up and stopped watching.

SG-1 would acquire a new spaceship and it would prove instrumental later on in a big space battle or a science fiction scenario involving time dilation or something; Atlantis would acquire a new ship and the ship would be destroyed next episode, and this continued for years until I’m told that finally some stuff actually happened—after I’d stopped watching.

In the end, it felt like there were two dynamics:

1) Showrunner was allowing drastically inconsistent characterization of characters and entire civilizations from both the writers-who-were-clearly-at-war-with-each-other and the various directors of various episodes, the best example being a villain from a talkative but villainous civilization who doesn’t speak a single word in the episode, just growling and making angry noises.

2) Showrunner was allowing for plot stagnation due to writers-who-were-clearly-at-war-with-each-other, and every new item, technology, or whatever that could have progressed the plot was immediately destroyed next episode, every single time.

So, in our mounting frustration with the writers’ refusal to allow the plot to move in any meaningful way, my friend group gave up on the show and moved on to something else.

That said, there was one episode that stuck with me where the good-guy human lead protagonist guy, and a member of the bad-guy alien civilization, are both in a prison run by a third faction comprised of different-but-also-bad-guys who are, ethically speaking, worse than either of them.

Eventually the two prisoners team up and do a jailbreak and in the end they part ways without killing one another, and both sides learn that the other are at least theoretically capable of showing mercy.

The good guy’s name is John. The bad guy is an alien who has no name that I remember, at least in the show (which feels like a weakness in the writing), but John names him “Todd” because humans like calling people stuff.

So. Why is all this information necessary if we’re supposed to be talking about my changeling?

Well, it turns out that sometime after I stopped watching, Todd actually returned several times as a guest star—not always portrayed by the same actor in makeup, but apparently always voiced by the original actor when lines were rerecorded in post, as one does.

This brings us back to that inconsistency I mentioned: Todd’s character, behavior, personality, vocal delivery, and even the post-production vocal effects are inconsistent depending on who directed, who supervised the vocal recordings in post, and who did post-production effects, not merely for a given season but from episode to episode, even if Todd’s appearances were sparse.

But a couple of years ago I accidentally discovered that Todd had acquired an online fanclub of sorts, and in addition to fanfiction shipping Todd with, well, everybody, clips featuring Todd were being posted to YouTube by various people, which allowed me to see various performances of the only character in the show who actually had any impact on me: the escaped prisoner from that one episode.

Now, as I said, Todd’s vocal performances, intonation, post-production etc. varied drastically from episode to episode.

But there’s this one specific clip I found from an episode that featured an alternate timeline where everybody dies and time travel to restore the original timeline saves the day at the end:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBXROSxnt9w&t=72s

This. Guy named Rodney is narrating, then we got Jason Momoa as Ronon, and Christopher Heyerdahl as Todd, but Heyerdahl’s performance in this clip (and seemingly no other!)... that’s my bug’s voice. The tone, the effect, the snark, the 100% doneness, even the choice of strategy—all of it.

#shifter #metamorphosis #mod post

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Thursday, February 29, 2024

The economy is roaring. Immigration is a key reason. (Washington Post) Immigration has propelled the U.S. job market further than just about anyone expected, helping cement the country’s economic rebound from the pandemic as the most robust in the world. That momentum picked up aggressively over the past year. About 50 percent of the labor market’s extraordinary recent growth came from foreign-born workers between January 2023 and January 2024, according to an Economic Policy Institute analysis of federal data. Immigrant workers also recovered much faster than native-born workers from the pandemic’s disruptions, and many saw some of the largest wage gains in industries eager to hire. Economists and labor experts say the surge in employment was ultimately key to solving unprecedented gaps in the economy that threatened the country’s ability to recover from prolonged shutdowns. “Immigration has not slowed. It has just been absolutely astronomical,” said Pia Orrenius, vice president and senior economist at the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas. “And that’s been instrumental. You can’t grow like this with just the native workforce. It’s not possible.”

Extremism is US voters’ greatest worry, Reuters/Ipsos poll finds (Reuters) Worries about political extremism or threats to democracy have emerged as a top concern for U.S. voters and an issue where President Joe Biden has a slight advantage over Donald Trump ahead of the November election, a new Reuters/Ipsos poll showed. Some 21% of respondents in the three-day poll, which closed on Sunday, said “political extremism or threats to democracy” was the biggest problem facing the U.S., a share that was marginally higher than those who picked the economy—19%—and immigration—18%. Biden’s Democrats considered extremism by far the No. 1 issue while Trump’s Republicans overwhelmingly chose immigration. Extremism was independents’ top concern, cited by almost a third of independent respondents, followed by immigration, cited by about one in five. The economy ranked third.

The Supreme Court will hear Trump’s immunity claim in April (NYT) The Supreme Court agreed today to decide whether Donald Trump is immune from prosecution on charges of plotting to overturn the 2020 election. The justices scheduled arguments for the week of April 22, putting trial proceedings on pause at least until then. The court will decide this question: “Whether and if so to what extent does a former president enjoy presidential immunity from criminal prosecution for conduct alleged to involve official acts during his tenure in office,” according to the court’s brief order. How quickly the justices were to take up the case has been closely watched, as Trump has sought to delay the proceedings. Trump argued that appeals court judges had been wrong to rule that he could be criminally charged for his conduct as president.

After 4 Months of War, Biden and Netanyahu Are on Different Timetables (NYT) President Biden and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel each addressed the future of the battle in Gaza this week, speaking just a day apart but worlds removed from one another in a way that captured the essential tension between the two men after more than four months of fighting. Mr. Netanyahu spoke of war and how it would continue even if there is a temporary cease-fire to secure the release of hostages, just “delayed somewhat.” Mr. Biden spoke of peace and how such a cease-fire deal could “change the dynamic,” leading to a broader realignment that would finally end the underlying conflict that has defined the Middle East for generations. The disparity in visions reflects the opposing political calendars on which the two leaders are operating. Mr. Netanyahu has a compelling interest in prolonging the war against Hamas to postpone the day of reckoning when he will face accountability for failing to prevent the Oct. 7 terrorist attack. Mr. Biden conversely has a powerful incentive to end the war as soon as possible to tamp down anger in the left wing of his party before the fall re-election campaign when he will need all the support he can get.

Out-of-control wildfires scorch Texas Panhandle and prompt shutdown of nuclear weapons facility (AP) A series of wildfires swept across the Texas Panhandle early Wednesday, prompting evacuations, cutting off power to thousands, and forcing at least the temporary shutdown of a nuclear weapons facility as strong winds, dry grass and unseasonably warm temperatures fed the blazes. The fire has spread to at least 500,000 acres since it was ignited on Monday, making it the state’s second largest wildfire ever recorded. An unknown number of homes and other structures in Hutchinson County were damaged or destroyed, local emergency officials said. The main facility that assembles and disassembles America’s nuclear arsenal shut down its operations Tuesday night but said it would reopen for normal operations on Wednesday.

A former member of Germany’s Red Army Faction has been arrested after decades in hiding (AP) A former member of the disbanded left-wing militant Red Army Faction group who is accused of participating in a string of robberies has been arrested after more than 30 years on the run, German authorities said Tuesday. Daniela Klette, 65, was arrested at an apartment in Berlin on Monday afternoon. Investigators said they were led to her by a tip they received in November from the public, but wouldn’t give details. Klette, who had a foreign passport under a different name, put up no resistance, the head of Lower Saxony state’s criminal police office, Friedo de Vries, told reporters. Klette is one of three former Red Army Faction members whom police have been seeking for years. She, Ernst-Volker Staub and Burkhard Garweg have been linked to 12 robberies in northern Germany between 1999 and 2016, as well as attempted murder.

In Ukraine, Russia Is Inching Forward Death by Death (NYT) As the Russian military launched its offensive on the eastern Ukrainian city of Avdiivka last fall, Ukrainian troops noticed a change in their tactics as column after column of Russian forces were ravaged by artillery fire. Russian forces divided their infantry formations into smaller units to avoid being shelled, while the amount of Russian airstrikes increased to hammer the city’s defenses. It was one of several adjustments the Russians made to help reverse their fortunes after a disastrous first year. But these changes were obscured by one glaring fact: The Russian military was still far more willing to absorb big losses in troops and equipment, even to make small gains. Russian forces have a different threshold of pain, one senior Western official said this month, as well as an unorthodox view of what is considered an acceptable level of military losses. Hundreds of thousands of both Ukrainian and Russian soldiers have been wounded or killed since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, including tens of thousands last year in the battle for the eastern city of Bakhmut. Another town to the south, Marinka, fell to Russia in January, after heavy fighting and more losses.

Kremlin Warns Against NATO Ground Intervention in Ukraine (NYT) A provocative comment by President Emmanuel Macron of France about the possibility of putting troops from NATO countries in Ukraine has prompted a warning from the Kremlin and hurried efforts by European leaders to distance themselves from the suggestion. The Kremlin warned Tuesday that a ground intervention by any NATO country would lead to a direct clash between the Western military alliance and Russian forces, fraught with potential dangers, and called the open discussion of such a step as “a very important new element.” “This is of course not in the interest of these countries,” Dmitri S. Peskov, the Kremlin spokesman, said in comments to reporters. The warning came a day after Mr. Macron said “nothing should be ruled out” regarding the possibility of a NATO country sending troops to Ukraine, though he said there was no consensus on the matter.

A small drone flies into a damaged Fukushima reactor for the first time to study its melted fuel (AP) A drone small enough to fit in one’s hand flew inside one of the damaged reactors at the wrecked Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant Wednesday in hopes it can examine some of the molten fuel debris in areas where earlier robots failed to reach. Tokyo Electric Power Company Holdings also began releasing the fourth batch of the plant’s treated and diluted radioactive wastewater into the sea Wednesday. The government and TEPCO, the plant’s operator, say the water is safe and the process is being monitored by the International Atomic Energy Agency, but the discharges have faced strong opposition by fishing groups, as well as a Chinese ban on Japanese seafood.

Tears of Gaza father who lost 103 relatives (BBC) Ahmad al-Ghuferi missed the bomb that obliterated his family. When 103 relatives were killed in a strike on their family home in Gaza City, he was stuck 50 miles (80km) away, in the occupied West Bank town of Jericho. Ahmad had been working on a Tel Aviv construction site when Hamas attacked Israel on 7 October—unable to return to his wife and three young daughters because of the war that followed, and Israel’s military blockade. On December 8, a large bomb attack on his uncle’s house that evening killed his wife and his three young daughters—Tala, Lana and Najla. It also killed Ahmad’s mother, four of his brothers and their families, as well as dozens of his aunts, uncles and cousins. More than 100 dead in all. Over two months on, some of their bodies are still trapped under the rubble. Unable to hold his children’s bodies or be at their hurried burials, he still speaks of them in the present tense, his face motionless beneath the rolling tears. Stuck in Jericho, Ahmad is no longer sure if he will ever go back. “My dream was shattered in Gaza,” he said. “Who should I go back for? Who will call me Dad? Who will call me darling? My wife used to tell me I was all her life. Who will tell me that now?”

Strike on Palestinians waiting for aid in Gaza kills and wounds dozens (AP) An apparent Israeli strike on a crowd of Palestinians waiting for humanitarian aid in Gaza City on Thursday has killed and wounded dozens, according to local hospital officials. Dr. Jadallah Shafai, the head of the nursing department at Shifa Hospital, told the Al Jazeera network that around 50 people were killed and 250 wounded. He did not provide a precise toll. Fares Afana, the head of the ambulance service at Kamal Adwan Hospital, said medics arriving at the scene found “dozens or hundreds” lying on the ground. He said there were not enough ambulances to collect all the dead and wounded and that some were being brought to hospitals on donkey carts.

#headlines #news

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