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callsign-relic · 8 months

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Hi again! I saw your post explaining the first contact AU, it was very help<3

Speaking of my last ask, I would totally love it in that AU (now that I know more about it I may just look into it more)

One thing is that it's more willing, not straight up kidnapping. I'm fine with it not being like 100% by choice, but just not cleary against their will.

Im still down with either characters, they both are interesting to me.

Thanks for the help! And that's for taking my request :D

No problem, I’m happy to help <3

As for your request, I chose Shockwave over Soundwave as I had more of an idea for what to do with him in terms of a First Contact AU, so I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU

Blinding red light takes up the entirety of your vision.

It was as if you were staring directly into a traffic light. You could see the texturing of the alien glass, the typically minuscule ridges and bumps looking more like little hills you could run your hand over. You cringe at the imperfections in the glass— little cuts and cracks ranging from surface level, to so deep they warp the glass around it just a tad.

And though you had to squint to help your eyes adjust to the bright crimson light before you— most eerily of all, despite the red glass making the light bulb behind it blurred, you can see the brightest point of light at the center flick and twitch about.

Examining you. Studying every little detail and feature about you under its intensely scrutinizing gaze.

So dead and devoid of feeling, yet so full of life and morbid curiosity, all at once.

“Earth exploration audio log: first solar cycle, thirteenth cycle,” a low voice drones on. From where the sound emerges, you aren’t sure, nor could you even understand it— but it completely fills the air around you, leaving no room for your own thoughts to wander.

“I have come across another of planet earth’s native species. Unlike most other of earth’s species, this kind is of enough size for a Cybertronian to handle decently dexterously.” As the scientist logs his findings, you find yourself shifted in his grasp— rather than leaving you dangled by the scruff of your shirt, the mech brings his free claws upwards and holds you loosely within them. “Yet, still no larger than the palm of the average servo.”

With a pointed thumb, Shockwave pulls open the collar of your shirt to examine your chest, and once he’s satisfied, he lifts up the bottom to study your stomach.

“The subject appears to be anatomically similar to a Cybertronian, at first glance.” Suddenly, the sharp digit digs beneath your shirt with ease, pressing into your stomach. You gasp at the sudden pressure— the cool steel of the tip of his thumb sending goosebumps through your comparatively warmer body. “However, there are some key differences.”

The thumb presses further into your stomach, and despite how you try to push the offending pressure away, you find yourself totally pinned into the palm of this metal titan. “Like most creatures on this planet, it is an organic. This is evidenced by its warm core body temperature and, more obviously, the squishy flesh that makes up its outer plating.”

He releases his thumb from against you, and you feel like you can breathe. You scoot backwards in his servo, daring to take a look off the edge of his hand— only to immediately turn your head back to face him.

You were several feet high in the air. If there was any chance of you getting out of here without falling to death, you’d have to climb the bot down somehow without him noticing. And, considering how keenly his attention was fixed on you, you didn’t think you had a decent chance of that happening anytime soon.

“Subject is of enough interest to warrant further study.” Suddenly, the platform of his hand beneath you quickly descends to the floor, tilting sideways and allowing you to slide off. You slowly pick yourself up, chancing a few steps backwards to see if he would allow you to leave, though your eyes remained fixed on him.

Shockwave seemed preoccupied with something else, however. Attached to his hip was a series of cylindrical glass tubes, and as he lifted the first one out of its holster, a mechanical click and hiss ringing out as it’s freed, you catch a glimpse of the contents of the cylinders previously beside it.

One of the containers contained an elk, pacing around curiously in its enclosure. Another contained an alligator, deathly still, as if it was still in the swamps of its homeland, awaiting a prey to never come.

And, before you could even process the massive shadow that fell over you, you realized in that very moment what would make up the contents of the third cylinder.

You.

The glass slams down around you, and the vibrations it sends through the rocky mound you had been standing on shake every bone in your body. That familiar red light casts itself over you in the darkness, disorienting you, and the tube drags itself forwards. It tilts up, knocking you off your feet, leaving you sliding down the glass into the bottom of the tube.

Your head pounds from the quick succession of every motion. You lifted higher and higher until you’re face to face with that single blinding optic again— Shockwave tilting his servo to move the glass about, and in turn, examining your aching body from every angle. “I will take the subjects I have gathered thus far and bring them to Lord Megatron. If he approves of their study, I shall make further note of my findings.”

Just as quickly as you were lifted up, you’re brought down. The tube you’re held in gets brought back down to Shockwave’s hip, locking itself into its holster with that same mechanical click and hiss.

“If my pitch is rejected, I shall bring the subjects back to their habitat and find alternative earthen samples to study.” And with that, Shockwave takes a step forward— rocking you around in your enclosure. You have to spread your arms wide to press them on either side of the glance so you don’t fall, but each step feels like an earthquake. You rear back and forwards with every movement, despite how much you try and hold your balance.

All you had to do was find a rhythm. The mech’s strides were wide and slow, so you leaned back when he brought his pede forward, and leaned forward when his leg moved back.

Okay. This would be fine. All you had to do was wait it out. Once the big guy was distracted, you could climb out and make your escape. And even if you couldn’t escape, surely you wouldn’t be stuck with him for long— and surely it wouldn’t be too bad of an experience staying with him for the time you had to.

Right?

“End earth exploration audio log: first solar cycle, thirteenth cycle.”

#relic writes #transformers #reader insert #transformers x reader #Transformers Prime #TFP #Transformers Prime x reader #TFP x reader #shockwave x reader #TFP shockwave x reader

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avillanappears · 15 days

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godzilla x kong: the new empire

"For most of human civilization, we believed that life could only exist on the surface of our planet. What else were we wrong about?"

okay, I kind of fell off doing this, but we’re back! the best ever tumblr review series that’s written by avillanappears.tumblr.com! I came in not expecting much, but it turns out I really, really liked it, actually! I’m more pleasantly surprised than anyone, godzilla vs kong rubbed me very much the wrong way. godzilla and kong beating the ever-loving tar out of each other was fun, sure, but I have WORDS for the human stuff. I could fill a whole post with those, probably, but we’re not talking about that! we’re thinking good thoughts, about the one I liked!

it’s definitely a fun adventure film. hollow earth was a much more fleshed out setting this time, I loved the varieties of locales and creatures. giant, flying flamingo fish that shoot electricity? kong crossing a rickety bridge made out of the spine of a monster so massive, that it’s kaiju sized compared to him? this is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to see! it was fascinating seeing kaiju sort of “on their level”, in a whole giant sized ecosystem made for them. we got some of that in the atomic time of monsters by @tyrantisterror, and I think it’s such fertile ground to explore. godzilla’s flirted with the idea before in both its netflix animes, but this is them really committing to it. it makes my worldbuilding and specbio freak heart happy. we even got to see more hellhawks! I love those guys.

lookit that face

okay this is going pretty long, but anyhoo, I liked the character stuff too. kong was as lovable as always, you really feel for the big lug. even though he’s a living god the size of a mountain, there’s a real vulnerability to him. he’s just a sad, lonely guy who wants purpose and belonging.

he and suko had some kind of fast, but still very nice bonding. the human side was fun too, they fixed a lot about what I didn’t like from the last movie. jia had more of an arc going instead of just being “the one kong talks to”, bernie was a lot more enjoyable since they cut out the weird conspiracy theorist stuff, trapper was a fun guy. it was nice just seeing someone who loves monsters and weird nature stuff.

skar king surprised me with how personal of a threat he is, they really let him feel like a horrid, nasty piece of work. he’s more than just a big evil overlord, he’s a bullying control freak who wants everything his way, and it makes his wretchedness more tangible in a way.

shimo didn’t get all that much, but I love shimo. I love her, and I can barely even tell why, there’s just some kind of Vibe to her I resonate with. I think it’s how mythical she feels. the oldest of a line of gods, a great being of ice, controlled by a wicked devil….in fact it all felt very mythic. I appreciate that, I love it when kaiju works play out like weird mythological epics.

probably the most tangible complaint I can think of right now is that the godzilla stuff was pretty underwritten. it honestly felt like he was just….doing video game sidequests or something. like, it didn’t have Impact up until the very end when he finally meets kong and SPOILERS SPOILERS. and it feels a shame to kill scylla and tiamat off this early, I liked those two as unpredictable wildcards. with rodan and the others still mia, and two titans unceremoniously dead, it’s starting to feel like the monsterverse is sorta….flattening itself? now that kongs arc is done, I think we need to get back to a godzilla solo or two, flesh things back out a bit. but that’s for future peter to talk about, today we’re leaving things off on a high note. fun characters, dynamic locales, some great monster brawling, this one was a good’un!

godzilla cast monkeys into hell for their sins

#avillananalysis2024 #godzilla #king kong #godzilla x kong: the new empire #kaiju #long post

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writing-envy · 8 months

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Writing snippet (Thrawn x Reader)

One time I was writing this for a bigger story, but now I don't really know what to do with it. Please tell me what you think; pointers and critique is appreciated!! ALSO, I was experimenting with an AU where Thrawn is an officer in the Republic, so bear with me.

Word count: 1,268

CW: mediocre writing, talk about intercourse, some bad words, break in (lmao), lack of ideas.

Clicks at the lock pad echoed in an empty hallway of an apartment complex in the upper levels of Corusant. The dimly lit corridor was devoid of any other residents, quiet and slightly menacing. Although you’d rather it remained that way, the less people saw you come in the better. Especially after the receptionist had been side-eyeing you for visiting at such strange hour.

It would’ve been far more suspicious to force my way in or even pretend to be a resident you thought. Still, not your best work. With that thought in mind you continued to fiddle with the door’s lock and after a few seconds, they opened to reveal the inside of the room.

The apartment wasn’t the most extravagant you’d ever seen; regular loft space, with neatly made bed, vacuumed sofa cushions that were lacking in pillows you’d usually see in the living rooms in holovid programs. The kitchen was presumed unused, the surface clean from any traces of cooking, but you could see the rags drying on the cabinets’ handles. They were wrinkled and with damp spots on them. Otherwise the apartment looked almost uninhabited, as if you’d walked in expected to be given a tour of the place by the real estate agent.

Considering Thrawn’s character, you’d expect nothing less; a spotless space for a thorough and focused person like he. And you had to admit, he had chosen a home with a great view.

The city-planet’s skyline was visible through the three big, connecting windows. The capital of the Republic was especially beautiful at this time of day. Or night, as it really was. You moved closer to admire the view; skyscrapers littering the surface, lanes of ships and speeders cutting in between them. The neon lights reflecting from the glass buildings, creating a mirage on the grey concrete structures at the base of them. From here you could see one of the tunnels leading to the lower levels, where such a sight exists only in the imagination of the inhabitants.

All so beautiful, but only from afar you thought as you moved away from the window, further into the apartment. For a second you debated looking around for any hidden weapons but finally deciding not to, you’d be able to sense them anyway if he were to use them. Which he wouldn’t you retorted yourself. You broke into his house already, going though Thrawn’s personal belongings would’ve only made him angrier.

Well, maybe I want him to get angry — . You stopped yourself before you finished that thought. Tonight you’re just here to talk.

With that you seated yourself on the armchair in the dark corner, with his thermal vision Thrawn would be able to spot you without a problem. As you sat there and waited, you pondered the events that led you here. If you were honest with yourself, you’d never expected to find yourself in a situation like this; sure, you’ve had hook ups with a few fellow Jedi, but never the ones you closely worked with. Especially not after you’ve left the temple five years ago. This was most peculiar, since you never would’ve guessed that Thrawn found you attractive or that you brought out feelings in him, other than annoyance that he displayed so frequently in your presence.

I suppose frustration is to blame. He got so frustrated with me that he fucked me on the floor of a supply closet. No big deal, not at all. Not that I liked it or anything, after all I’m just here to talk this out. Yeah, just to talk.

The weak defence of your actions that brought you here was interrupted with the sound of the door to the apartment sliding open and a figure emerging form the very hallways you stood hours ago. Have I been waiting for so long?

Just as he entered, Thrawn froze in the entryway, the door sliding shut behind him. A few beats of silence passed and then he spoke with a strained voice.

“I hope you know you’ve ruined any plan of attack you had by sitting exactly where I can see you.” He said, clearly stating that he could see where you were in complete darkness, where most people would fail to notice you. But then again, he’s not most people.

“It’s on purpose. If I’d been trying to kill you, you’d never see me coming.” You rebuked, dramatically. He only scoffed and for the first time since entering moved to turn on the lamp next to the sofa.

“I have a hard time believing that.” The sudden brightness and his comment caused you to frown at him. He was now sitting on the opposite of you on the sofa and looking around his apartment as if to determine if everything was in place, just as he left it. He continued. “Although nothing seems amiss I have to ask, did you search my home?”

“As if I’d find anything interesting here, no. Did you expect me too?”

It took him a second to reply as his gaze settled on you.

“No.”

This wasn’t a declaration of trust but of caution; he knows you’re not that stupid. At least he didn’t think that low of you.

“Why are you here?” His words came so suddenly and pointedly, you almost felt surprised he cut the chase so quickly. You wondered which version of the story he would buy; now you regretted spending this time pondering about dumb shit, you really should’ve thought about a better excuse than ‘just to talk’. A second later you answered.

“Would you believed me I missed you?”

The silence was deafening, really out of all the things you could’ve said, this is what you came up with?

“I believe you need to leave, I’ve had a long day and I’d rather go to bed than deal with you”.

The way he venomously spit the last part had you hesitating but you’d decided to proceed.

“Sorry, I just came to talk”.

“Really, I don’t want to hear it. Go home.”

An exasperated sigh ripped from your chest as you rebuked.

“I want to have sex with you again.”

That statement had him paused in the middle of the room, while looking at you like you had grown a second head. Clearly he whatever he was expecting wasn’t this. Thrawn stopped for a second just looking at you and any sigh of falsehood in your features. You were quick to follow.

“We don’t have to! I just thought… you know. Only if you’re okay with that.” All traces of confidence had dissipated, stumbling with words you continued. “I know I said that- you know- that there won’t be a second time. Well, I’m here now. So- you know- if-uhhh- you’re okay with that, I would like to have sex with you again.”

Oh the Force help me, what was the most embarrassing, dick hungry, pathetic proposal that had ever left my mouth. Any second now, he’s gonna laugh and I will die on the spot. Why did I say that?! I’ve never been more embarrassed in—

“Okay.”

Hold on. Okay?

You finally focused on his face. He was serious.

“Just like that? Really?” you asked trying to cover your embarrassment.

“Just like that.” He simply stated. Before you could react he was in front of you. He had a few centimetres on you so you had to look up to meet his red gaze. “Next time you try asking me to fuck you, just knock.” And just like that his lips were on yours, passionately kissing away your embarrassment.

#star wars #thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn #writing #my writing #my fic #critique #ao3 #pointers are appreciated!#begginer writer

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srarizard · 4 months

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Back on my Rayman bullshit.

I literally have nowhere to talk about Rayman but the Tumblr tag seems to be popping so here goes. I am probably the only person on planet Earth who cannot stop thinking about Reflux. I will always be critical of Rayman 3 for its very surface level characters and unfunny "humor", but it still has a lot of environmental storytelling if you look for it. For example, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that the Knaaren are bipedal toads.

Artistic liberties were taken, of course, but it's almost a perfect match. It also explains the dot on his forehead, as most toads have warts all over. The warts only become more prominent during the final boss battle, too.

Not to mention, the tunnel system they live in is directly outside of a ravine full of poisoned water. This implies that there might have been a time when they were semi-aquatic. They also have flat teeth, with no canines. I like to think it's because they are herbivores forced to feast on whatever they can find, because they have no plants within miles to feed on. It would explain why they prefer the brain, as it's squishy and easy to chew, as well as the zombie eggs that are the only notable, reliable food source seen in the desert.

Now, what about the way that they evolved? Most of this is speculation, but I can at least tie it together. Knaaren are invincible canonically. Reflux contradicts this in two ways; he has defeated other Knaaren to claim the title of champion, and he dies at the end of Rayman 3. It can only be concluded that he isn't a "normal" Knaaren, and the best way to explain this is to acknowledge the fact that the champion receives the power of the Leptys. Not only is Reflux the only Knaaren to use magic, his boss battle is, quite frankly, insane. I just replayed it yesterday, and it came extremely close. It's possible he used his power to exhaust the other Knaaren to the point where they can no longer fight in order to claim the title of champion using those powers.

In theory, it can also be said that the power of the Leptys creates a weakness. God powers must take a lot of energy to channel no matter what sort of creature you are. So, in theory, Reflux was burning the candle at both ends, pridefully striking down challengers and assuming that he would never be defeated with how much power he has come to earn. He becomes a monster in his thirst for revenge at the end of the game, which ultimately kills him. What this implies about the Leptys is vague, but it certainly has something to do with the deity.

Now, this is my favorite part. Reflux is actually the only character Rayman has ever done wrong. I'd say he's the only one Rayman ever killed, but uh, depends on your view of canon, so I'll be focusing on what is undeniable. Rayman blasts into the desert without warning, and granted it's to save his friend, but he ruins Reflux's life in doing so. He had no choice but to become the champion and shame his opponent. Reflux made his entire identity on being champion, and eagerly accepts when André promises the ability to claim revenge. Rayman was just supposed to be a fun exercise for him, and now Reflux finds himself outcast due to an outsider who doesn't even want to be champion. It's the fault of his pride, but it is still a way that Rayman has made someone's life worse.

It's also interesting to think of them as cultural opposites. Rayman comes from a lovely dream world, and Reflux comes from a hellish nightmare that he had to claw his way to the top. Rayman was born a hero, and Reflux had to earn it. Ubisoft really shot themselves in the foot by not expanding on that, I think. They could have really made something out of the contrast of dreams and nightmares.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my TED talk. If you read this far, please stan Reflux.

#rayman #rayman 3 #knaaren #blorbos #long post #hyperfocus moment

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gazelessmenagerie · 7 months

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Hey mun! I hope you're doing ok with school and your back. If you have time, I'd like to know more about Tiflora?? She seems so cool and badass in a way we don't see female saiyans portrayed!!

Kuro's Ancient Ask Trove

( Back's doing much better, thank you Anon. Just to catch up on events, I did graduate from my school and I have a job and work now. It's a bit stressful but I'm finally getting that moolah. )

( Now onto the question itself, oh man.. I just, asdljf we don't see much of the female Saiyans which is a shame. My thought process for Tiflora is just I wanted her to be the reason why Broly looks the way he does bc he sure as fuck doesn't have dear ol dad's genes in the looks and stature department. I wanted the Mother to have had those traits of being tall and strong with that long hair. )

( Like I didn't have much of an idea at first but I kept thinking on her here and there while trying to think of story where it'd be interesting but lsndlfjg making oc's isn't my strong suit but hell I tried anyway. I wanted her to have this sort of 'wine aunt' feel while also being imposing as a Berserker class and having leadership when she needs to be considering she's a commander of her own squad of other Elite Saiyans. Totally fucking hates Bardock bc lmfao, parallels and they would duke it out but this is a detail that doesn't need to be touched upon by any Bardock RP'ers. I am totally fine with having an alternate course of history or playing it out another way. Speaking of history, it may not mean much but I do like her being a history buff or an archeologist in some way for the Saiyans considering the lost planet Sadala. Maybe most of them don't care or maybe the field isn't well-looked upon considering the warrior culture but Eh? Idk, I just kinda like her being interested in something outside of conquering planets and fighting. I really don't know how much history the Saiyan race might've held onto or if there's even much interest bc it may be seen as a useless field but I feel like Tiflora would use her Elite status to leverage things her way a bit. If she were a lower class, that'd maybe be a different story but yeah. )

( There's just so much I don't know and chances are, we as the audience, don't know about Saiyan culture beyond surface level things so I'm really just throwing darts at a board to see what sticks y'know? Trying to think on how she and Paragus met to have Broly as their kid, what happened with her in regards to how she may have died or survive depending on AU's and things, she just gradually became more of herself in getting a taste for neon aesthetic and space gladiator/bounty hunting stuff. She'd still be interested in history but I feel that kinda fell to the wayside bc y'know the planet and its people are gone. Fighting in the arena for money and hunting people became a coping way if not drink and whatever pleasures she may glean on her own. She's just.. I don't know, I feel like I want to do more things with her, it's just a matter of me fitting the puzzle pieces in and seeing how it goes. Part of me is a bit hesitant that I'll mess up her character in trying to form a more solid foundation to both myself and the muses she interacts with but eh, it's a risk all oc maker's gotta take, right? )

( Tiflora is just a well loved oc that I had fun making and I'm still figuring things out for her and trying to settle on a design that makes her distinguisable from her kid but she's got her own feel, y'know? She deserves that much while she's cracking heads and taking names bc you can't tell me there are vicious Saiyanesses and it's a shame we don't see much of what they are or the culture of Saiyans in general in regards to its people and inner workings between classes, society, values and every little detail as they can come. )

( In short, I just wanted a big, buff Saiyan woman instead of the small Saiyans I got in Xenoverse. Like damn. I don't mind them I just feel like there could be more variances. )

#|| Tag: Answered #Anonymous #|| Character Study: {Tiflora}#( anon wherever you are rn. I hope life's been treating you good since you sent this a year and a half or so ago. )#( I appreciate you sending asks for her bc it made me have to think on stuff and )#( sometimes she just busted out my head like Athena and told me what she wants alfjsdg )#( she's ruthless. ;w; but I love her. she could kill me and I'd say thank you )

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kyleknight · 3 months

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How to Make Friends: A Guide By Joe Hills with A Variable Success Rate

This is heavily inspired by Maple's Red vs Blue/Hermitcraft AU, which has utterly captivated me. If you're unfamiliar with Red vs Blue, it's a space opera series loosely set in the world of Halo, about a collection of dumb idiot troopers who get into hijinks and shenanigans. Maple's AU sort of follows RvB canon, but it also sort of doesn't. So I'm playing loose with it and just writing whatever's funny.

wordcount: 4563 warnings: violence, character death, discussions of war brief summary: Joe Hills arrives at Blue base, meets his teammates Bdubs and Scar, and befriends a tank. And perhaps a small incident happens. ao3 link

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

There’s no way to properly begin a story that involves many, many people with many, many different life experiences. Initiating events can only really be fully understood and realized in hindsight, with the subsequent actions and consequences to give the proper context required. And even then, background information is required. Who are these people, what are the circumstances they come from? Why is there a war, and why does it have to involve so many people who just want to live their lives in peace?

But Joe thinks that his slight mishap on the first week at this outpost is perhaps a good place to start.

He doesn’t have a whole lot of company on the cramped ship that flies him at a faster-than-light speed across the universe out to the base. The ship itself is on routine autopilot, giving the impression that the mysterious and distant “Command” can’t be bothered to spend the human resources to assign the ship a pilot. But they sure can waste a whole lot of resources on energy and fuel shipping one person all the way out to a little planet that Joe has never even heard of.

The planet itself is simply identified by a string of letters and numbers, which seems like a shame. It’s probably a perfectly nice place— shame it’s the setting for at least a part of this war. (Not that it seems like any planet in this part of the universe is untouched by the war.)

Joe tries to get a good look at the planet as the ship approaches, but the most he can see is a rather large expanse of what could be badlands and perhaps prairie or savannah. Not a whole lot of green. It’s hard to tell from space, and the window shutters close as they get closer to the planet.

Once the ship lands, the doors open, and Joe is finally able to leave, he’s greeted by a pair of people in blue-colored armor, similar to Joe’s. The shorter of the two is a light cobalt while the taller is something between teal and aquamarine. Only the aqua one has his helmet off, and he smiles sunnily at Joe. He has a friendly looking face, but Joe thinks he should take some time to make any conclusions about his character.

“Well, hello there,” the aqua guy says. “You’re the new recruit?”

“I suppose so,” Joe says. He would call his attendance the result of involuntary conscription, but that’s not necessarily something he needs to burden his new acquaintances with. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Joe Hills. I’m from Nashville, Tennessee.”

“What— you’re all the way from Earth?” the cobalt guy says. “No way. I thought it wasn’t suitable for life anymore.”

“Well, to my knowledge, I was still alive when I left, but I can’t say anything about what may have transpired for the other inhabitants afterwards,” Joe says.

“That’s amazing,” the aqua guy says. “You can call me Scar, by the way. That’s Bdubs. Welcome to Blue base!”

“Blue base,” Joe repeats, a little quietly. That offers a surface-level explanation for the ocean-blue armor he was given after a sparse three weeks of “training” during which he actively did his best to underperform at everything in the hopes of being discharged. No good, since at the end of the three weeks, he was handed this armor and promptly shoved into a waiting ship with only a clipped explanation that he was being deployed to a place called “Blood Gulch.”

Jokingly, Joe says, “Is there a Red base too?”

“Yeah, the Reds are at the other end of the canyon,” Scar says, nodding his head to his right. His voice drops to a whisper. “They’re kind of silly, but don’t get too close to them, cause they’re seriously trigger-happy.” His voice lifts again. “But that shouldn’t matter, because Command said they were sending us a tank! And I can see it right there!”

Without any more preamble, he dashes past Joe, past the crates of equipment and supplies that have already been unloaded by the gently whirring mechanical arms of the ship, and straight up to the main thing that had been taking up the majority of the space on the transport ship.

A tank.

Joe had kind of hoped that it wouldn’t be getting off at the same stop as him.

“Hey— Scar— you’re not getting in that thing first—” Bdubs shouts, chasing after Scar.

But as the two of them start scuffling to determine who will get to the tank first, there’s a mechanized activation sound from the tank.

Joe tilts his head. That’s odd. It never did that on the whole way here. Could it be solar-powered?

“Hello,” comes a surprisingly soft masculine British-sounding voice. “Thank you for activating the N808-V Main Battle Tank. You may call me Oli. Please standby as I run diagnostics.”

Oh, the tank has a name. And a voice. That’s kind of nice. Joe wishes it could have been active on the way here. It would have been pleasant to have someone else to talk to.

Bdubs groans. “Of course we can’t just use it right away. Hey, tank, can you skip the diagnostics and start working right away instead?”

“Rescheduling diagnostics,” Oli says.

“Hey, wait, diagrostics might be important,” Scar says. “Oli, you can keep doing your diabolics.”

“Restarting diagnostics,” Oli says.

“Stop that!” Bdubs snaps. “I want to drive that tank right NOW and blow something up!”

“Well, so do I, but it’d be safer to cab-ilirate it first,” Scar says. “Joe thinks so too, right?”

Joe pauses to consider his answer, and in that moment, Oli speaks up again.

“Initiating restart mode. Please standby. This may take a few minutes.”

Bdubs throws his hands in the air. “I swear, if you guys have ruined it already…”

“He’s a brand new tank, just give him some time,” Joe says, walking closer to the tank as the large war machine hums at a quieter volume. Joe recognizes that he is making a rather presumptuous assumption here— he should ask Oli what his preferences are when he reboots himself. “We should probably just let him do his thing first.”

“In the meantime,” Scar says, turning his attention back to Joe. “We can show you around the base!”

“Sure,” Joe says. He glances at the walls of the canyon, stretching high on either side. The sedimentary layers are quite pretty, and he hopes he’ll get some time to check out the stratigraphy a little later. Just because he’s stuck out here for the foreseeable future doesn’t mean he has to dislike the actual landscape. While there might not be a lot of green life, there’s certainly got to be arid-adapted life instead. Could be interesting.

That is, if the skirmishes haven’t destroyed it or chased it all away.

The base isn’t terribly big. Scar shows him to a room that apparently used to belong to a man named Cub, who was their commanding officer until he died not too long ago. Not from fighting, Scar assures him, just an unfortunate accident. The space is nice and roomy, although it would be a lot more mentally soothing if it had a window. However, Joe can imagine there are a few reasons why that wouldn’t be recommended in this situation. The dust, for one.

There’s also a general common area, an armory, a kitchen, a large storage room, and a bathroom. Conspicuously, there is no dedicated place for medical treatment, nor are there any sort of recreational facilities. And, as Joe walks through the base, listening to Scar’s long-winded and elaborate explanations, there doesn’t seem to be anyone besides the three of them stationed here.

Joe is not sure whether to be glad or worried about that. The fact that the base only seems to be big enough for maybe a maximum of six people is certainly an indicator that… maybe this just isn’t a very important outpost.

Maybe Joe actually succeeded in his efforts to make himself a completely useless soldier, in a way.

After the tour, Scar and Joe work together to move some of the supplies into the base, starting with the food supplies, as Scar seems eager to see if they got “anything good.” Bdubs is noticeably absent from the kitchen stocking, as well as lunch, and Scar tells him it’s not a big deal. The three of them gather again after lunch to move the rest of the supplies into the base, which takes a few hours.

The sun is starting to sink below the horizon as the three of them approach Oli once again. The tank has restarted himself by now, if the lights are any indicator.

“Hey, Oli?” Joe says. “How’s it going?”

“Diagnostics check at thirty one percent,” Oli reports. “Estimated time of completion: six hours, twenty minutes.”

“Oh, yeah, SURE,” Bdubs gripes. “So we won’t even be able to use it until tomorrow.”

Joe glances back in the direction that Scar had pointed in earlier. “Do you think it’s alright to leave him out here all night?”

Scar shrugs. “He’s a tank, I’m sure he can protect himself.”

“I am equipped with 700 millimeter steel-alloy armor, as well as an AI-directed recognition system,” Oli reports. “As for offensive capabilities, I have a 50 millimeter wide plasma turret. I can also run people over with my big heavy treads.”

Bdubs seems startled. Scar leans forwards, clearly delighted.

Joe meanwhile, is intrigued. “You’re an AI?” he asks. “They put AIs in tanks?”

“While I do not possess the capabilities of a smart AI, I am certainly capable of keeping myself in working order,” Oli says. “Starting by making sure my systems are fully functional, so if you’ll excuse me, I still have another seven hours of diagnostics to run.”

“I thought you said it was six hours,” Bdubs says.

“I think I’ll take my time, actually,” Oli says, actually sounding huffy about it. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother me?”

Oh, he has a personality. Joe likes him. He’s pretty sure he likes Scar and Bdubs too, but he really likes Oli.

They unanimously decide to leave Oli for the evening. Once again, Bdubs doesn’t join Scar and Joe for dinner, but he joins them in the common area as they’re winding down and getting ready for bed. There isn’t much in the way of leisure opportunities, but there are some books, board games, a deck of playing cards, a few thousand-piece puzzles, and a pile of sketchbooks that both Bdubs and Scar spend a considerable amount of time drawing in as the evening progresses.

Joe has guessed by now that whatever threat the “Reds” pose, it’s certainly not enough that they need someone standing guard all night. That’s just fine by Joe. He takes the deck of cards and plays solitaire while occasionally looking at the very nice drawing that Bdubs is making in his book.

The next morning, Joe heads over to Oli first thing, even before breakfast. His internal clock isn’t aligned with this planet’s day cycle yet, so the sun isn’t even up when he steps outside. But he can’t sleep any longer, and he’d like to take a bit of a morning walk and hopefully strike up a conversation with Oli.

The tank is still humming that steady sound.

“Good morning, Oli! Hey, I don’t want to assume anything about you or your identity,” Joe starts off. “We’re both new here, and I want to make sure you feel that your boundaries are properly respected.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Oli says. “I am just a tank though, so I’m not sure how you could be misidentifying that. I’ve never been anything else, to my knowledge.”

“Would you want to be something else?” Joe asks.

“Hm,” Oli says. “That’s something to think about. I’m quite fine as a tank, I think, but I suppose I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to become, say, a helicarrier or something else that could fly.”

“I can see the appeal in that,” Joe says. “Flying does give you certain extra freedoms.”

“What about you?” Oli says. “Would you want to be something else? A tank perhaps?”

“Since I asked the question to you, I guess it would be rude of me not to have an answer,” Joe says. “Let me think… There are a lot of things it would be interesting to be. I don’t think I would limit myself to just living things either. I’d like to be something that wouldn’t be caught up in a space war. Or something that could stop it.”

“Oh, now that’s a heavy topic,” Oli says.

“Is it weird hearing that, as a tank?” Joe asks.

“Hm. I don’t know. Just because I was made for war doesn’t mean I’ve participated in it yet,” Oli says. “My fundamental processes are all designed for combat and typically being an unstoppable force of violence. But you’ve put me in a quandary here.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. It’s all about considering your identity, as you said,” Oli says cheerfully. “I do think I’d at least like to try out my components while I continue to think that over. Not against anyone, of course.”

“How would you try them out?” Joe asks. He looks around again at their surroundings, barely lit in the pre-dawn. The canyon isn’t small, but he doesn’t think there’s a whole lot of space that could be used for whatever tests Oli might want to run next.

“Well, I suppose I could just run the tutorial program,” Oli says. “That probably won’t hurt, and it’ll give us a more practical idea of how it feels to be a battle tank.”

“Mind if I join you for that?” Joe says. “Like I said, we’re both new, so this could give us both an opportunity to get to know each other a little better. I could tell you a little about where I’m from after you’re done with the tutorial.”

“That sounds lovely,” Oli says. “Of course you can join me! Just climb into the seat right there and I’ll activate the program.”

It starts out very nice, all things considered. Unfortunately, it’s already very warm, even this early in the day, and the radiant heat from Oli’s mechanisms only adds to the temperature. Joe finds himself regretting putting on his full armor, but he still hasn’t seen those “Reds” yet, and he doesn’t want to take any chances just in case there are potentially dangerous arid-adapted animals lurking around in the dusty canyon.

The tutorial program starts out with driving. The number of pedals and buttons is alarming, but Oli assures him that Joe will get the hang of it eventually. So he tries to follow the prompts. Forwards, backwards, turn right, turn left, rotate in place. It’s a lot more complicated than driving a car, and obviously has the potential for creating a lot more hazards.

It’s at this point that things start to go a little wrong.

Oli insists that Joe continue to drive straight, shifting to different speed settings. They’re driving deeper into the canyon, further in the direction that Scar had said the “Reds” are based. And in the distance, Joe catches sight of another structure— nearly identical to the Blue base. He doesn’t get much of a chance to examine it, because then Oli gets stuck on a large boulder and it takes Joe a while to get him unstuck.

“Now that you’ve mastered driving, we can move on to some of the safety features,” Oli says brightly.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered driving a tank yet,” Joe says. “You’re an AI, though, wouldn’t you be able to drive yourself?”

“Oh, sure I can,” Oli says. “But this is standard for training uncertified recruits. Actually— were you certified in tank operations?”

“I don’t think I gave them the opportunity to certify me in anything,” Joe confesses. “I was trying to get them to kick me out, and it didn’t really work.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Oli says. “Now, the first safety feature you’ll be learning is the anti-locking brakes.”

“That’s sensible enough,” Joe says.

The sun is starting to come up, which paints the canyon in a rather beautiful light. Oranges, yellows, and stunning shades of rich sandy tan come alight as the day begins. Joe does take notice of quite a few shrubs and stocky trees, doggedly surviving even in these conditions. Oli takes care to avoid hitting any of them, which is nice as well.

He thinks he might see some movement down at what he’s assuming is the Red base, but every time he tries to look, Oli turns in a different direction.

“The driver visibility isn’t the best, I’ve come to notice,” Joe says as Oli finishes his explanation of the child-safety-locking rear passenger door.

“Well, I can’t do much about that,” Oli says.

“Can you see what’s going on?” Joe says. “I thought I saw something going on at the other end of the canyon. Not the place where we came from.”

“Oh, well I’ve seen a guy in orange armor and a guy in maroon armor driving an armored jeep towards us,” Oli says. “But I think I shook them off when we drove around that big rock formation a few minutes ago.”

Joe twists around in the seat, but he can barely see anything besides what’s directly in front of him. “Do you think those are the Reds?”

“Could be,” Oli says. “Do you want to engage in battle?”

“No, there’s no reason for that,” Joe says quickly. “It’s only my first full day here, I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Oh,” Oli sounds disappointed. “Weapons were next on the tutorial program, but if you want, we can skip it. I can respect that, for you, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Joe says.

And it’s at this point that things start to go a little more badly. As Oli delves into an explanation about the more interesting parts of his mechanical engineering design, Joe hears something he’d rather hoped he wouldn’t hear so soon. Gunfire. Automatic gunfire. It’s nearby, but after a moment he determines that the shooting probably isn’t directed towards him and Oli.

“What’s that coming from?” Oli says.

“You’d probably know better than me,” Joe says. “I can’t see anything.”

“Could be from those guys we saw earlier,” Oli says. “Think they’re doing target practice?”

The sound hasn’t ceased at all. “Well, anything could be possible,” Joe says, even though he’s not feeling especially positive about it.

“Should we go to see what’s going on?” Oli says.

“If you want to,” Joe says. If it looks dangerous or scary, he will certainly suggest that they reschedule the tutorial for another day, but Oli sounds like he wants to check it out. Joe supposes that he can’t fault a tank for wanting to at least check out what might be a battle. It would be his intended ideal form of stimulation.

But Joe will do his very best to abstain from participating. Maybe he can attempt to talk things out.

They soon catch sight of a bulky armored jeep parked somewhere in the middle of the canyon. A person in orange armor is in the driver’s seat, while a person in maroon armor is standing on the back, directing a large automatic cannon to shoot endlessly at an already-battered rock formation sticking out of the ground. As Joe and Oli get a little closer, Joe gasps when he sees two blue-armored people standing huddled behind the rocks.

“That’s Scar and Bdubs!” he says. “When did they get out here?”

“Looks like a battle,” Oli says. He sounds a little too eager. “Shall I eliminate the threat?”

Joe winces. “I don’t think we’d need to perpetuate the violence,” he says. Scar and Bdubs are both visibly standing, so they should still be alright. Probably. “Maybe we can just fire a few times to scare them off. You’re a tank, after all, and they only have a jeep.”

“I’ll light up the array that has all of my weapons capabilities,” Oli says.

Joe looks down at the rows of illuminated buttons. “Which one is the least lethal?”

“I’d reckon all of them are pretty lethal,” Oli admits. “It’s what I was made for, after all. You can always aim just to the side of their jeep so you don’t hurt them. Or if you’re feeling good about your aim, you can take out their cannon.”

“How do you aim?” Joe says, keeping his hands very far away from the buttons for now, even though Oli is continuing on with his advance.

“That’s in the tutorial!” Oli says cheerfully.

“But we didn’t finish the tutorial!” Joe says.

The people in the jeep have definitely noticed them now. They’ve stopped shooting at the rock and seem to be arguing with each other. The maroon one has abandoned the cannon for the time being.

“They’ve stopped,” Oli says, sounding disappointed. “Can I still shoot at them, Joe?”

“I can’t actually stop you from doing things,” Joe says. “You’re an AI and you have a certain level of autonomy despite being an unwilling participant in a war.”

“Well, sure you can stop me, there’s a manual override,” Oli says.

“What? Where is that?”

“That’s the last segment of the tutorial.”

“That’s not exactly helpful,” Joe says. He examines the buttons and levers in front of him, very aware that he’s running out of time. Oli had mentioned an energy shield earlier, but Joe didn’t really pay attention to how strong or durable it is, and he doesn’t want to test it out like this.

There is a rather prominent joystick, so Joe experimentally moves that. Oli’s big turret moves.

“Okay, that’s a start,” Joe says. He squints through the curved metal bars covering the hatch. “Huh. I can’t really tell what I’m pointing at. Oli, I’m not about to hit anyone, am I?”

“Only one way to find out,” Oli says.

Perhaps. But Joe figures that if he pushes the joystick all the way to one direction, he’s more likely to hit one of the canyon walls than he is to hit a person. He does that, giving it a few seconds to be more sure that Oli’s turret is far pointed away from actual people.

“Okay,” Joe says, looking at the buttons once more. “Now… if I was designing a tank, where would I put the button for the least damaging attack? Oli, you don’t have any idea which one of these will fire the weakest beam?”

“Well, no. I could activate the tutorial mode again,” Oli offers.

“We don’t have time for that,” Joe says. The maroon guy has jumped back up onto the back of the jeep and is now pointing the turret at them. They really don’t have time for this. Joe pushes the first button.

“Firing main cannon,” Oli reports happily. The tank shudders with almighty force as an intense beam of energy blasts out of the turret. It hits the canyon wall, making an instant crater and causing chunks of rock to fall noisily onto the ground.

The orange and maroon people are definitely spooked, but they haven’t run away yet. Joe carefully makes a small adjustment to the joystick and fires again.

Another crater, slightly closer to the people but still a safe distance away. Better, but the orange and maroon guys still haven’t left. Meanwhile, Joe notices that Bdubs has left the cover of the rock and is waving at him. He hopes he’s going to be careful.

Another adjustment, but Joe unintentionally makes a small mistake. He doesn’t think he can really be blamed for it. This is a high stress situation and he’s very ill-equipped to be operating this kind of machinery, even with Oli’s questionable help.

Either he presses a different button by mistake, or there’s some kind of trigger activated after pressing that particular button three times. Joe has no way of knowing for sure.

“Initiating auto-fire mode,” Oli says. “Acquiring targets.”

“Oli, no!” Joe says. “We don’t want to hurt anyone!” He looks at the buttons, thinking desperately about which button or switch might be able to turn it off.

The one relief is that the orange and maroon guys have jumped out of the jeep and are running back towards what Joe guessed earlier is the Red base. When Oli auto-locks onto the jeep and fires several shots in succession to blow it to smithereens, there’s luckily nobody there.

But then, Oli says, “Acquiring new target.”

His turret adjusts. And in the span of a few seconds, Joe watches as, one moment, Bdubs is standing beside the rock, waving at him. And then in the next moment, there’s a small crater and a smoking pile of cobalt armor.

“Oh no,” Joe says.

“Oops,” Oli says. “Deactivating auto-fire mode.”

Good thing too, because Scar emerges from behind the rock and crouches down next to Bdubs. Joe opens the grated hatch of the tank and climbs out shakily.

“Scar,” he calls out as he drops to the ground and runs towards his teammates. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

Scar pulls off his helmet as Joe approaches. He doesn’t look angry, though, he just looks shocked.

“Is he still alive?” Joe asks, panting with exertion as soon as he’s close enough.

“Huh?” Scar says. “Oh, no, he’s definitely dead. He just said he hated all of us and died right away. Hey, do you think that’s a curse?”

“I don’t know… maybe?” Joe says. He kneels down next to Bdubs and examines the smoking debris. There’s no blood, which seems a bit odd, but maybe it got vaporized in the blast. “Gosh. I’m sorry, I don’t know any first aid. Um. Not that I think it would help at this point.”

“Well, that’s alright,” Scar says. He leans back with a sigh. “Do you know how to do last rites and all that? Bdubs was the one who handled that when Cub died a few weeks ago.”

“Uh, I’ve never done it before, but I guess I could give it a try,” Joe says. He wonders idly if they’re still in shock and that’s why there hasn’t really been an outburst of emotion over this. He just killed Bdubs, and Scar doesn’t seem to be badly affected by this.

“By the way,” Scar says. “Why didn’t you say you knew how to drive a tank?”

“I don’t,” Joe says. “Oli was teaching me.”

“Oh,” Scar says. “Huh. When we didn’t find you this morning, we went out to look. Ran into Joel and Jimmy— those two Reds— and they started trying to kill us, cause that’s usually what they do.” He laughs.

“I’m sorry I got Bdubs killed,” Joe says, looking back at the corpse of the man he only knew for half a day.

Scar shrugs. “It happens. No point in holding it against you. We can request a two week period of mourning, though, and Command might send us some condolence gifts. Last time we got fresh fruit and the milkshake machine.”

Joe gives Scar a questioning look. “You don’t seem too upset by this,” he says.

Scar just smiles. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough.”

#maple's rvb/hc au #mani playing with words

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beardedmrbean · 12 days

Note

Oh take care of your father, I understand the delays

But I wanted to thank you for liking my magical black American wizards ideas I do as I want to show that not all black people have victim complex

Because that magical negeroes

“Oh yes black writers, who are willingly to live in one of the most expensive and godforsaken cities in America and work in one of the most corrupted industries on the planet. Please tell me how the average black person must act like a slave to mainly upper middle class white people given the trailer.”

Perhaps it explains in the trailer, but how the fuck we got magic but still subverted? Did we meddling with druids and witches or something?

Not to mention a lot of white people were confused who this movie was meant for as they mention they would be down for a black Harry Potter

Funny enough my magical America idea came from a Disney channel sitcom and cartoon that was to cash in on the HP phenomen

Ain’t that bitch

Also for native Americans wizards, I will do jokes that the native tribes will probably like

A American wizard: Oh shit this native monster is going to kill us! What should we do?!

Native wizard: I’m from ANOTHER tribe, we need to go to the one that dealt with this guy

AW: Oh…i thought you would know…

NW:…I’m from a Iroquois tribe, this freak from Washington

AW: Wait there other Iroquois tribes?

NW: IT WAS A FUCKING CONFEDERACY AAAAAAAH-

Oh another one about outfits

AW: Oh okay, we got this ritual ready-Wait why are you wearing Victorian era clothing

NW: Because my ancestors wore these?

Aw: Oh….i thought you would wear all that precolonial garb..

NW: You mean, what that term we begrudgingly agree upon using for outsiders? Oh yes the full shaman gear? Well 1. We had to keep our most powerful magic away from our enemies prior to the Europeans. And 2. You need special permission from the tribe elders to get such items. Which I’m not in the mood to argue with

Aw: Does everyone have family issues?

My joke is that I will point out the different native tribes. Like a visual gag of a Cherokee and a Californian native being shoved into the same group much to their frustrations

Also as you mentioned Shaft and Black Dynamite. I was going to make character that homage to them and create a new wizardry group that came from the influx of Chinese and Japanese immigration. Basically a lot of Asian dispora created magical gun martial arts, though like if they fight someone from the ancestral home. You can see the difference between their tactics

By the pope, could there be someone with both cowboy and samurai ancestry I could make? Is that possible? How I don’t make it goofy as possible?

You could do a lot of cool shit if look past America beyond the surface levels

Gonna be Friday now it looks like, better these things go wrong in the hospital though, gotta make sure to have a nice flavorful meal for him when we can finally get him home.

Heart surgery is bad, but 2 weeks of hospital food it torture.

But I wanted to thank you for liking my magical black American wizards ideas I do as I want to show that not all black people have victim complex

You're excited about it and I can tell that makes it double worth reading

Perhaps it explains in the trailer, but how the fuck we got magic but still subverted? Did we meddling with druids and witches or something? Not to mention a lot of white people were confused who this movie was meant for as they mention they would be down for a black Harry Potter

Good question for #1 and for #2 there's also a lot of us that don't feel like being talked down too and told they're racist

Funny enough my magical America idea came from a Disney channel sitcom and cartoon that was to cash in on the HP phenomen Ain’t that bitch

Nothing wrong with being inspired by Disney, Walt was all about that.

Also as you picked up, I would focus on the cultural divergence. Like the American druids in general created their own culture and they and the Irish ones see each other as “cousins” than say brothers Also for native Americans wizards, I will do jokes that the native tribes will probably like Joke goes here

Quality

AW: Oh okay, we got this ritual ready-Wait why are you wearing Victorian era clothing NW: Because my ancestors wore these? Aw: Oh….i thought you would wear all that precolonial garb.. NW: You mean, what that term we begrudgingly agree upon using for outsiders? Oh yes the full shaman gear? Well 1. We had to keep our most powerful magic away from our enemies prior to the Europeans. And 2. You need special permission from the tribe elders to get such items. Which I’m not in the mood to argue with Aw: Does everyone have family issues?

true how come they're in their traditional garb and we aren't? german heritage American Wizard needs magical leiderhosen.

That'll be a group from Oakland/San Francisco then, get the most crossover between the groups there.

By the pope, could there be someone with both cowboy and samurai ancestry I could make? Is that possible? How I don’t make it goofy as possible?

You could do a lot of cool shit if look past America beyond the surface levels

Damn right you could.

#zoomer huey anon

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vindictively-violent-violet · 2 months

Note

what inspired you yto make fasist? did you anticipate the response he would get? why did you think he was a good idea

The outline of Fasist was simply just a caricature of british (and by extension every country that could be considered a superpower's) politics. Like he was just how I imagined people like Boris Johnson would be if they were allowed to speak the quiet part out loud with absolutely no repercussions, but he quickly turned into an example of a worst case scenario in Alternian society.

He's what you get when a what would ordinarily be a normal kid is born in a position of power. One that forces you to fight for your own survival and snuff out the chances of anyone else's. Since birth he's had to manage the delicate balance of being ruthless to survive, and to prove his worth in Alternia which is a planet that greatly values strength, whilst also maintaining some sort of brand, so if he were to win the heir race he wouldn't get mutinied immediately.

He originally was supposed to be closeted queer, but since then I have decided to change that to be up to reader's interpretation because I think the belief that all insanely queerphobic people are closeted queer is a harmful ideology. I decided it would be best to remove that from being a major part of his character and still keeping his malice. It is canon that he experimented with his gender and sexuality in the past, but whether he went back into the closet, or came to the conclusion he was neither of those things are up to you.

Ultimately this culminates in a mostly very ambiguous character in terms of how he actually feels about things especially with the current BREAD crisis. The only 2 parts of his real personality I've ever let slip is the most surface level parts of his character. He's selfish, and he's hedonistic.

I did fully anticipate the response he's gotten, as murder twinks are a very popular character archetype, and he's epitome of that being a wannabe dictator on top of it all.

As his actual role in the story, and why I think he was a good idea is the aforementioned him being the worst case scenario for Alternia, but I also think he holds some strange sort of middle ground when compared to other heirs, and also the BREAD crisis.

When it comes to heirs you have people like Writna and Fusoia that are good people, but I would argue wouldn't be good leaders for Alternia given the culture that surrounds it. Then you get people like Remora who is selfish and hedonistic like Fasist but that's the role that she plays. She's the stereotypical heir. Fasist himself is a man who (in his mind anyway) genuinely believes he is doing what's best for Alternia while also still following the guidelines for heirs in Alternian culture. A lot of his bs opinions he spouts aren't even his real opinions and he just says it uphold his brand. Alternia has a large population of rich douchebags and he appeals to them, while also being a funny meme guy that might appeal to other people for that reason. Think Elon Musk before he destroyed his own brand. When you think about it he's the best heir Alternia could have without any major societal changes.

Which leads to my point about BREAD. Currently we have 2 major factions in the BREAD conflict. BREAD who wants to destroy Alternia because they deem trolls to be uncivilized. PASTA who made a deal with BREAD that if they can “rehabilitate” trolls they get to live. Both of these factions are inherently wrong. BREAD wants genocide, whilst when you think about it PASTA wants colonialism. They're coming in here and shoving human values down Alternia's throat. I mean they're even sponsoring an entire revolution about it, and that's textbook colonialism. My point here is Fasist is actually probably a better candidate than either of those factions atm. If he wins simply nothing changes. I am by no means saying that the Alternian government is good, but I think revolution and major societal change should come from the inside, and untouched by any outside influence.

Fasist (upsettingly) as it stands is the he should win, so the other guys don't kind of person. Essentially what Democrats are in American politics. If a real genuine revolution loses then Fasist is the best bet. Which is the saddest thing ever when you think about it. I mean, Hope is fighting for a worse cause than fucking FASIST CISHET.

Okay that's my essay I'm gonna do real life things now.

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rewrittenwrongs · 4 months

Text

Title: New recruit

Rating: general

Warnings: not much, mentioned violence I guess?

Prompt: Space

Word count: 1330

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Philza

Characters: Ph1lza, Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, Ranboo, Tubbo.

Summary:

Humans are tough. They’re hearty, they’re dangerous, and not much is known about them. They are, however, very strong and very hard to kill.

Still. With all the rumours surrounding humans he’s not surprised his crew is so nervous about Technoblade. He’s heard plenty of horror stories himself.

Ao3 link (registered users only): https://archiveofourown.org/works/52594789

Wilburs’ ears flicked back and forth in agitation. “Um, Phil, are you sure this is a good idea? Aren’t humans pretty dangerous?”

“Incredibly so,” Phil said. Even as he said it, he had to stop the feathers crowning his face from flicking. His tail was tapping against the ground as he walked, wingtips brushing the ground as he hurried through Qu’saar market. “But not to the people they packbond to.”

Wilbur straightened. His claws dug a little into the box he was carrying. “Packbond? Are you saying you think they’ll packbond with us? Why?”

Phil’s ear fletchings fanned out in amusement. “You don’t know a lot about humans, do you? They packbond with anything.”

“What?” Wilbur swerved around a Shulker and tucked himself closer to Phil’s side. “Define anything.”

Phil hefted his box so he could hold it against his side with one arm, reaching into a pocket with the other and handing Wilbur his holocommunication device. “I’ve saved a bunch of stories from people that’ve worked with humans. Every single one suggests that even just living in the same area as a human will get them to packbond. One or two supposedly even packbonded with inanimate objects.”

“What!?” Wilbur gasped. “Inanimate objects? That can’t be true. Humans are a hunting species, what reason would they have to be so… sentimental?”

Phil twitched his right wing. “No idea. There’s barely any information about their home planet or what they act like in their natural habitats. Earth has never allowed visitors, and a lot of human astronauts are very secretive about their home. Just about the only thing we know is they’ve successfully colonised most of their home planet, and that they’re arboreal in nature.”

“Arboreal…” Wilbur was tapping through several studies on Phil’s device, ears tilted in a way that suggested curiosity. “Should we get them trees or something for their room, then?” He paused, glancing at Phil. “What’s their name?”

“Technoblade,” Phil told him.

Wilbur sounded it out carefully. The ‘blade’ part sounded more like ‘bleed’ because of the shape of his mouth, and ‘Techno’ sounded more like ‘Tick-no’.

“And climbing surfaces are probably a good idea.” Philza sped up as they turned a corner and the ship dock came into view, claws clicking against the ground.

“What do they eat?” Wilbur asked, staring intently at the holocomunication device.

“Just about anything,” Philza told him. “They’re omnivores, and supposedly are immune to a lot of irritants and poisons.”

“Supposedly?” Wilbur repeated. “Which ones? How are they immune? I suppose it wouldn’t matter much since we don’t go around carrying poison with us, but it’s probably best to be sure what they can and can’t eat.”

“Definitely,” Phil agreed. “I plan to double check with him once he’s a bit more settled in, but I think humans have limited resistance to capsaicin and caffeine. There’s a rumour going around that they’re immune to menthol.”

“Wha-“ Wilbur stumbled into Philzas back as he stopped suddenly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back while Phil adjusted the elevator settings to it would take them to the right docking level. “But menthol is one of the most deadly poisons on this side of the universe!”

“And humans are tough,” Phil told him.

They both stepped into the elevator when it opened, squeezing in beside an Enderian and a pair of Skolgar. The elevator ride was spent in silence, only a faint song playing from hidden speakers. On the first stop the Enderian popped out, replaced by a stout little Witherin. On the second stop Phil and Wilbur exited, adjusting their boxes and heading straight for their ship, the Syndicate.

“Exactly how tough are humans?” Wilbur said eventually.

“Back on my home planet, I had a family friend whose crew got into a fight with one,” Phil said. “I can’t remember why, some sort of miscommunication about the well-being of her child or something. She was being loud and violent and my friend tried to restrain her. She bit his arm and her teeth cut straight through bone.”

“What!?” Wilbur let out a distressed warble, ears pinned back and tail tucked between his legs. “They can bite through bone!?”

“Elytrian bones are hollow,” Phil reminded him. “But yes. Apparently. She seemed just as shocked by it as my friend was, so I can only guess she didn’t know she could do that. And that’s not the end of it: while his arm was healing it got infected somehow. Real nasty infection, it just popped up out of nowhere even though the wound was cleaned and disinfected as soon as possible. He died two days after.”

Wilbur swore in his native tongue. He looked horrified. “And we’re bringing one of these things onboard our ship!?”

“Yup,” Phil said cheerfully.

Wilbur whined in his throat. “Oh boy.”

“Don’t worry, Will,” Phil said breezily. “As long as we don’t give him any reason to hurt us, we’ll be fine.”

“But what if we do give him a reason to hurt us?” Wilbur demanded. “What if because human customs are so obscure and mysterious we offend him by accident? We could piss him off by - by breathing wrong or something!”

“Wilbur, relax.” Phil stopped to place a hand on Wilbur’s head, like he was an overexcited chick that needed calming down. “I’ve been talking with Technoblade for weeks now, and he seems really kind and understanding. He’s polite and quiet and patient.”

“Over text,” Wilbur grumbled.

Phil patted his hair. “He’s not gonna bite off our hands if we breathe too loud, all right?”

“Hopefully,” Wilbur hissed. He ducked past Phil and hurried to the ship. He could see Tommy and Ranboo leaning against the sides of the entrance, a collection of boxes organised by their feet.

Phil walked after him at a much more languid pace. He listened to the hum of engines heating up, of ships taking flight. After a few minutes of peace he caught up to Wilbur, and the enjoyable hum was spoken over by the Phantom.

“Phiilllllll,” Wilbur whined, “tell Tommy how dangerous humans are!”

“Why do I need to tell Tommy how dangerous humans are?” Phil asked. He pressed his hand against a pad beside the Syndicates doors, letting it scan him.

“Because I know they’re not more dangerous than me!” Tommy crowed. His tail was puffed up and swishing behind him, and his wings were spread like he was posing. “If this Tech-no-blade bitch so much as lays a hand on any of us I’ll kill ‘em!”

Phil’s tail swished, showing his amusement. “Technoblade isn’t going to hurt any of us. Why would you think he will?”

“Wilbur told me how aggressive they are!”

“He did not,” Ranboo deadpanned. “He said something about trees, bones and inanimate objects then screeched.”

“Wilbur.” At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “If you’re going to tell them about humans being dangerous at least tell the truth.” Phil turned to Tommy just as the bay doors of the ship started lowering. “Tommy, you cannot attack the human. I don’t think it would end well for anyone involved.”

“Because we’ll have to clean up all his blood?” Tommy asked.

“Because we’ll have to clean up yours.”

Tommy squawked in outrage. “No we would not! I’m the most manliest man ever!“

“No you’re not!” Tubbo shouted. He flew from the navigation deck into the cargo bay. “What are we talking about?”

“Humans,” Ranboo told him. He picked up a pair of boxes and walked inside with Phil, placing them down on the first available surface, the floor.

“Oh, you mean the new crew member? Technoblade?” Tubbo cheerfully picked up a box and placed it next to Ranboo’s. “He sounds interesting. I don’t know a lot about humans, but they sound epic. Nikki’s excited to meet him.”

“Well,” Phil said, “we’re going to pick him up on Kefird in two days, she can meet him then. In the meantime we need to put his room together.”

Everybody groaned.

#rewrittenwrongs fic #dual post #oneshot #mcyt fic #fan fiction #humans are space orcs #philza fanfic #wilbur soot fanfiction #no romance #my writing #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #no art

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shadowflash · 2 years

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I'm certainly not the first person to point this out, but yeah I also think it's neat how 3Hopes gameplay integrates the whole "Byleth and Shez are functionally opposites" idea. The most obvious examples to point to are:

Divine Pulse (time manipulation) vs Shadowflash (space manipulation)

Nirvana (divine associations, Byleth's personal class) vs Asura (anti-divine associations, Shez's personal class).

This is a smaller kind of opposition to note but what I specifically want to point out is how the first offensive magic spell Byleth learns in 3Houses is "Fire" when reaching a D rank in the Reason attribute, while the default offensive spell Shez has access to is "Blizzard". Yes, Fire = Flame Crest = Fire Emblem™. Yes, this is a spell a bunch of units first learn when leveling the Reason attribute. But I think it'd be nice if it served as a nod to the "warmth" that lies within. They obviously love their father and they care deeply for their students. And their supports with, like, basically everyone indicate that they don't really have a problem with getting through to the deeper parts of their hearts / beneath a character's surface-type stuff.

Inversely, I wonder what innately knowing "Blizzard" can say about Shez? Perhaps it can similarly be a nod to the metaphorical wall that surrounds their heart (a kind of coldness..?) and their comparative lack in ability to see beneath the surface other characters front (as Arval points out in the prologue). Yes, throughout the course of the story and regardless of route, they do form solid bonds with their allies but those bonds aren't as intimate as the ones Byleth can (or tbh: is allowed to-) form.

I know a big part of Shez is that the death of their mother and the nature of their career as a mercenary function as the leading influences to their resignation that people are destined to come and, importantly, go. Honestly, Shez reads as at odds with themselves over this. Despite stating how partings are something that come naturally to them, their actions indicate that they're still looking for a place to belong, something that could validate their life. I mean, they're quick to make friendships in their chosen faction and they clearly value those relationships as well as the place they end up carving for themselves within their community. There's also their default death line which I believe speaks to the spirit of this:

"Did my life even have meaning?"

You know, following the whole "innately knowing blizzard = guys look at shez's emotional walls" idea, I think their heartfelt letter becomes more interesting. Shez's words indicate that by the end of each route, they maintain a sense of loyalty to their friends and is willing to fight alongside them for the battles to come -> which could be interpreted as a sign that said walls have come to thaw quite a bit!

Of course, they also ask to not hold it against them if they leave from time to time to have their own adventures so it's not like Shez completely abandons the whole "wandering spirit", or more accurately, "migratory bird" (I've seen a few people refer to their nature like this) thing they have going on.. Which I honestly like a lot! It feels consistent to where we leave off with their character. I also believe their letter ends on a wonderful sentiment that acts as a sort of response to the question they have in death:

"Right here, right now is where I live and breathe."

To elaborate: "Where do I even belong? / Does my life even have meaning?" "In the right here, right now. / Of course it does! I'm still standing aren't I."

Back to Byleth. Surely there can be more to be said about how Byleth learns "Ragnarok" when they reach rank A in the Reason attribute given that their new unit in FE:H's special is very clearly planet buster-y in its imagery so. Well. Now what.

#byleth eisner #shez #fire emblem three hopes #few3h #this is analysis and me gushing I LOVE SHEZ YOU GUYS

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clanoffelidae · 9 months

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Now that I’ve mentioned it I wanna infodump about my alien dragons bc I haven’t talked about them in a long time and mentioning them just activated the neurodivergency

Doing everything in brief bc I’m on mobile and also have to work on moving today which I. Haven’t done yet. But I WILL-

Anyway. The basic premise for them is I wanted to tell a story about aliens living on Earth for so long people didn’t realize they weren’t originally from Earth. The fact that their biology is similar enough to an Earth organism to be mistaken for one by people without genetic sequencing or looking through the evolutionary lens at things (not realizing they seem to have no common ancestors) is the whole point.

The fact that they can breathe Earth’s atmosphere, the fact that they can consume the food that grows on Earth to meet their dietary requirements, the fact that they have surface level similarities to Earth life is all intentional! Because their story is that a ship crash lands towards the end of the last Ice Age, enough survive that they manage to gain a foothold on Earth, but soon enough they themselves have forgotten their own history, and now both humans and dragons believe that they have always shared this planet. Dragons have their creation stories, they say they were born of a giant, metal egg that flew in the heavens and spewed fire; that’s why they’re scales are as tough as that metal egg’s shell, that’s why they fly just like the egg, and that’s why they can spew fire as that egg that bore them; but those stories are the only remnants of their history.

But I also wanted them to still be alien, to still be such that a reader would look at them and the assertion that they are from Earth and start to see that things aren’t what they seem, it’s just the characters who never question it, because that’s the way it’s always been. Dragons have been here as long as human history recalls. But the reader can start to see that things might not be what they seem. (But neither side is hiding the truth, because neither side knows.)

And so we have the dragons. No special name, no special words to refer to them, they’re just dragons. In this world the mythos of dragons isn’t mythos, they’re right next door and you can go talk to them. Stories of dragons aren’t of mythical beasts, they’re stories of heroes of legend, just like humans.

Of course, the reader would quickly notice that they don’t quite line up with our classical ideas of dragons.

For one, they’re human-sized. They typically walk on four legs, but will often stand up on two to work with objects or even just have conversations. Standing up on two legs has the same social connotations as standing up from sitting; you might hang out on four legs with your friends, but if someone you want to be respectful towards approaches you you will stand up on two and straighten up unless invited to return to four. Of course, there are exceptions. It is not unheard of for groups of solely dragons to walk on all fours even in formal settings, though it is not the norm. Not the majority, but not unusual either. With humans present, however, it is considered quite rude to remain on all fours in a formal setting (barring, of course, obvious physical maladies necessitating it).

Dragons have opposable digits like humans, although they possess six rather than five, having a thumb on either side. They have similar ranges of dexterity and so both species are fully capable of using one another’s tools and machinery. Dragons also have lips dexterous enough to allow human speech, and so can speak human languages with no issue. Their digestive systems can also process human foods, including dairy; dragons themselves nurse their young.*

Their eyes are often noted to be exceptional, one of the most blatant indicators of their non-Earth origins to those looking. Their eye structure doesn’t match that of any known species.

In a way they could almost be likened to proto-eyes, for the whole organ is dark and light receptive, functioning similar to a pupil. In order to adjust focus and reduce the amount of light let in dragons have thick, dark membranes around the outside of the eye, that constrict to a circular opening like a drawstring bag. This opening moves and changes sizes, the eye itself remaining fixed in the dragon’s skull. The ocular membrane is not distinct from the rest of the eye’s color, the best indicator of where a dragon is looking being where their eye has a reflection rather than matte, as the matte black indicates the presence of the ocular membrane rather than the eye underneath. Many common nicknames and pet names used by dragons for humans they love; be it platonic, familial, or romantic; often involve the eyes. ‘Jeweleyes’ is the most common, akin to ‘sweetheart’, for the first dragons who grew close enough to look into a human companion’s eyes long enough to truly observe them likened them to precious gems for their multitudes of colors, both across the species and within the individual.

Dragons have three sexes, not two, and quite differing familial structures as a result. Dragons have males and females, akin to many Earth species, with the males having similar ranges in overall size to human females and draconic females conversely matching human males in this way. This, along with their scaled hides, is why many believed they must be related to reptiles in some fashion when draconic origins were first being investigated.

However, dragons have a third sex, known as nesters.

Nesters are non-reproductive, bearing no genitalia. Their size ranges are double that of the average draconic male, and they are so heavy that few are able to sustain flight after puberty. They have a front facing horn from the center of their foreheads akin to a unicorn, although it is curved like a blade. This horn sheds from time to time much like claws shed their sheathes. Nesters also grow a mane of hair-like fibers around their shoulders and upper chests akin to a lion’s mane after reaching puberty.

Nesters are the primary caretakers of draconic young, with their evolutionary purpose in times long past being to guard the children while the males and females hunted. Males and females produce eggs, but once the eggs are laid, it is the nester who takes over and broods over them, later raising the hatchlings who come from them in time, nursing* them when they are newly hatched and caring for them until they are adults. As such, they are what would be considered a dragon’s parent, with many dragons sharing the same parent, but with many different biological ‘parents’. The term ‘guard’ is used akin to ‘mom/dad’.

Long ago, dragons had only males and females, but lines that produced nesters produced more successful offspring, although the nester did not directly contribute genetics. In time, nesters became a commonplace part of draconic biology, and dragons grew to have three sexes as opposed to two.

Nesters were archaically considered the leaders of their clans, being the strongest as they were. Nesters would fight for clans not unlike male lions might fight for prides, their front facing horn being used for combat against both predators and other nesters. Thankfully, unlike lion prides, nesters did not kill any offspring present upon defeating the previous guard, as they themselves are non-reproductive. The reason they had to fight for a clan is because they require a lot of resources, they need a lot of food to remain healthy. A clan could only afford to have so many nesters before the resource consumption outweighs the protection provided when every day is a fight for survival.

Thankfully, this was long ago, and there is more than enough food to go around in the modern day. Many dragons still live in clans composed largely of males and females with a few nesters, but many also choose to live their own way, and many also intermingle with humans and their families. Gender stereotypes have also diminished, with nesters no longer being upheld as natural leaders and the voices of males and females rising to prominence. (Dragons never had much stereotyping or equality differences between males and females, only between those two groups and nesters.)

Common nester stereotypes include a mixture of those attributed to male and female humans, with nesters being seen as both child-rearers while also being ferocious combatants. To be weak is seen as undesirable, and a nester who doesn’t want to raise hatchlings might often be told they will change their mind later, especially by older generations. They are expected to be strong and brave, the last line of defense but the most powerful one of all. Thankfully, time lessens the strains of these expectations, but they have still shaped draconic society and influence it to this day.

There’s so much else I could say but I mostly just wanted to pick up nesters and show them off. Non reproductive third sex twice the size of the others whose ‘role’ is to raise the children, lead the clan, and absolutely annihilate threats that get too close.

Dragon kid to human kid on the playground: my guard could beat up your dad >:(

Human kid who’s never actually seen a nester: nuh-uh >:(

Elementary school teacher who knows nesters are like 10 feet tall at the shoulder and can lift entire cars: I have no doubt about that sweetie how about you two talk about something else-

* = Dragons produce a milk-like substance from glands in their throat that is fed to hatchlings orally similar to birds. To make it easier for them to feed without spilling it is first curdled internally to create a cheese that is then deposited into the hungry mouthes of young hatchlings. Dragon mouth cheese is my favorite form of psychic damage :)

Instead of pre-filled baby bottles there’s mouth-cheese charcuterie boards

God bless the unknowing human who thought to snack on their nester friend’s weird cheese plate

#the biggest L i ever took is having adhd but being allistic #i cant ever say ‘activated the autism’ when i get special interest activated 😔#im allistic but only on a technicality i swear 😭#sci fantasy #sci fi #sci fi and fantasy #worldbuilding #aliens #alien biology #alien species #the story is meant to kind of be ‘you open the book and think it’s fantasy but oops it was sci fi all along’#sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic and all that #and the dragons are just aliens #tbh ive had the idea of ‘what if dragons were real they’re just from another planet and went home’ since i was a kid #ive just recently started developing it to a point of realization <3 #‘this is brief????’ Yes #there’s so much else i could talk about #i went on rant entirely about their teeth once #like how dragons are naturally polygamous as a result of not needing to have both parties focused on one set of kids #so reducing the evolutionary pressure that made them resource guard mates #and how romantic relationships aren’t really a thing the way they are with humans #*usually!#dragon queers are very much a thing ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎#i could also talk about their fire stomaches which is basically a heavily muscled organ in front of the stomach #that fills with flammable gas produced during the digestion process #that becomes highly pressurized #and is expelled and ignited by a hard - rock like organ in the roof of the dragon’s mouth that produces a spark #to result in the breathing of fire #how a dragon who looks ‘fat’ in having a large stomach means a dragon with a VERY full fire stomach #aka Armed And Dangerous - but i rlly gotta start moving asdfghjkl

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selfindulgentfandomstuff · 1 year

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Violent Psychopath + Abnormal Psychologist = Loving relationship?

Chapter 3: Abduction

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Fandom: MacGyver (2016 reboot)

Pairing: Murdoc x Emmett Becker (self insert)

CW: kidnapping, drugging, killing mentions (undetailed), violence mentions (undetailed), needles, knives, general morbidity associated with a character like Murdoc lol

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“MMPH!!” came their muffled cry of surprise when a gloved hand clamped over Emmett’s mouth, quickly followed by the unmistakable feeling of a blade pressing lightly into the side of their neck and the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hiya Doc, how’ve you been?”

There was no mistaking who that voice belonged to, not for Emmett at least. It was Murdoc. He’d escaped. He was out. And now he was in their apartment.

‘Huh, that’s probably why they wouldn’t let me in last week..he wasn’t there anymore’ they thought briefly, the thought echoing vaguely in their mind as they processed exactly the situation they were in currently. Their train of thought was interrupted as Murdoc spoke again.

“No, no, really, Emmett! I wanna hear how you’ve been! I mean, we see each other daily, it's been almost a week now? We gotta catch up! Say, I know just the place, actually!” he let the words flow effortlessly out, his voice taking on that artificially chipper tone to it, as if it were hiding something much darker just beneath the surface- and from Emmett’s experience? It was safe to say, it almost certainly was. He paused for a moment before realizing he couldn’t get a response out of Emmett if his hand was still over their mouth.

“Now, Emmett, so far, you’ve been very good for me… if I take my hand away, you’re not gonna scream. Right?”

Emmett knew full well what Murdoc was capable of, even before they’d gotten to know him in more detail at the prison; he’d most likely slit their throat without a second thought if he thought they’d jeopardize his newfound freedom. And the only reason this was a ‘most likely’ situation and not a ‘certainly’ situation was because Murdoc seemed to find Emmett fairly amusing. And MAN, was Emmett going to capitalize on that fact.

So, Emmett nodded a bit, to indicate their intended cooperation with Murdoc, to which the man smiled and let his hand fall away from their mouth, resting, instead, on their shoulder. The knife remained close, albeit slightly further away, from Emmett’s neck. ‘The threat is there’ it said, ‘but I trust you, more than most’.

Murdoc looked at Emmett, as though trying to gauge whether or not they intended to try to escape. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he looked somewhat satisfied and lowered his knife, putting more distance between its blade and Emmett’s neck. Emmett breathed an audible and shuddery sigh of relief at that, looking visibly less terrified.

Murdoc felt a brief pang of guilt. Part of him reveled in the power he finally had over one who typically held some level of power over him (the talk sessions in prison). But most of him just felt plain old bad at the fact that he was so clearly scaring Emmett, someone who had to be one of the only people on the planet he could accurately call a friend. Well, he wasn’t even sure about that. He wanted to call Emmett a friend. He wasn’t sure the feeling was mutual. It probably wasn’t, given the fact that he was currently kidnapping them at knifepoint. Oh well. Another problem for another time, he supposed.

With that thought in mind to quell his vague remorse, he gave Emmett a stern look that said, ‘don’t try anything while I get what I need’. Murdoc pocketed the knife as he grabbed out some zip ties and expertly fastened them around Emmett’s wrists. As he finished, he was less keen to pull out his knife again and instead opted to simply guide Emmett to where they were going with a steady pair of hands at their shoulders.

Soon enough, Murdoc had them arrived at a vehicle, ‘probably stolen’ Emmett thought, stupidly. Murdoc opened the passenger side, ushering Emmett inside. They briefly wondered why he was letting them sit there and not having them safely tucked in the trunk of the car, before they felt a quick pinch of pain, as a needle entered their arm and soon after, they lost consciousness. As they faded out, they had the realization that, ‘oh, that was why he’s letting me sit here, I won’t be able to…’ and just like that, Emmett was out like a light.

…

Meanwhile, at the Phoenix Foundation, things were in chaos. Director Matilda ‘Matty’ Webber was shouting orders, lab techs were hurriedly running to assist the more high level agents, the search was on, one of their own had been abducted, and by Murdoc, no less.

“People! This is Murdoc we’re dealing with here. You all know what that man is capable of. He has one of our own agents. I need eyes on every vehicle leaving the Hollywood Hills area ASAP!”

“Ma’am, we’re working as fast as we can-”

“Work faster”

Matty was not one to let emotions compromise her work but it was tough not to get a little freaked out when the world’s most infamous assassins had just kidnapped one the people she was responsible for…responsible for returning safely to their friends and family…

Especially when said agent was not, in fact, officially trained for working as an agent. Matty had hired Emmett on the condition that they stay in the lab, working in their speciality, psychology, and not in the field, at least, not until they’d completed schooling on fieldwork.

Now, an untrained member of the Phoenix Foundation, was at the mercy of one of the single most dangerous men alive.

The thought ran like a lightning bolt through her brain as she alerted MacGyver, Riley, Jack and Bozer of the situation, calling them to the war room.

As the four elite agents filed into the room, Matty remained stone faced, laying out the facts of the situation carefully, “Listen, guys, we have a major situation here. One of our agents has been abducted by Murdoc-”

Riley cut in immediately, “Wait, since when has Murdoc been out of prison?”

“Our intel says he escaped six days ago, from supermax prison-”

Then Jack interrupted, “A-And you didn’t think to tell us this, why?”

Matty shook her head in exasperation, “It was on a need to know basis-”

“And we didn’t need to know?! Matty, this psycho ken doll has it out for every Phoenix Agent here, especially us five!” Jack exclaimed.

Matty, ignoring Jack, continued, “I’m sorry to say that the agent Murdoc has kidnapped is Dr. Emmett Becker, our resident criminal and forensic psychologist and the psychologist assigned by us to work with Murdoc in prison.”

MacGyver looked stricken, as though it was directly his fault that Emmett had been put in such peril, “Matty…Emmett.. Emmett isn’t a trained agent yet…”

Matty sympathized with Mac, saying, “I know, that’s why it is imperative that we recover them as soon as humanly possible- no scratch that, I want the impossible, guys. I need Emmett back and safe in their own apartment, yesterday, got that?

Everyone in the room nodded solemnly as Matty continued to give them all the relevant information before sending them on their way, saying, as they exited the room, “Oh, and guys? Make sure to put Murdoc back into federal custody, while you’re at it. Good luck.”

…

Whistling.

That was the first thing Emmett’s brain registered as they slowly came to again.

The next thing was the dark, coolness of the room they were in. Then the harsh cold of the metal chair they were strapped to. Strapped to? Oh, yea, there were also the plastic zip ties now binding Emmett to the aforementioned chair.

And of course, the whistling. The whistling? It was some tune Emmett couldn’t quite place, familiar, but not. They groggily wondered what song it was supposed to be before their brain replaced that question with the more important one of who was whistling it?

As if to answer their unspoken question, there from the shadows emerged Murdoc. It was more than a little unsettling, the way his pale features stood out amongst the rest of his dark hair and ensemble which allowed him to otherwise blend perfectly with the shadows around him.

Emmett wasn’t entirely with it quite yet, still waking from whatever sedative Murdoc had injected them with. As they did so their brain fixated on the visual input that was Murdoc standing before them, partially enshrouded in darkness still. They noticed his skin, which looked almost muted in the low light, his aquiline nose, the way his thin lips curled up in a sinister smile. And his eyes, dark and swirling with secrets untold… he was.. kinda really pretty actually, they thought aloud, albeit quietly.

“Wait. I said that out loud didn’t I..” Emmett murmured softly.

Murdoc’s smile widened, revealing a few sharp looking teeth.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” he crooned back at them, his voice taking on a sickeningly sweet sound. He chuckled a bit before adding, “Hey, in your defense, I did dose you with some pretty strong stuff!”

Murdoc straightens up and again before pacing around, circling the chair Emmett is seated in, tracing a finger along the top edge of the chair seat. He momentarily considered ghosting over Emmett’s shoulders with his hands- oh how he wanted to touch them, hold them, even hug them- but quickly pulled away, not wanting to unnecessarily freak them out. He may be a psychopathic murderer but boundaries are important and he wasn’t about to break them. Well, at least not in that sense, anyway.

Emmett looked…well, surprisingly calm, all things considered. Murdoc wasn’t entirely sure if the drugs had worn off yet but he was at least glad to see that they weren’t entirely terrified anymore, if only artificially.

After all, he just wanted to talk with them. That was all this was about really. He wanted to get to know them and for them to know him, in an environment where he could express himself, aka, an environment where he wasn’t handcuffed to a table- even if that meant Emmett had to be instead. Eventually, he told himself, they’d work up to not having to do this. He didn’t want it like this. He wanted Emmett to not be afraid, not try to run away, to like him and want to talk to him. But he knew he’d have to work up to that. He knew he’d have to do something different in the future. This wasn’t gonna work if he kept up like this. He’d have to try a different strategy. One that didn’t involve abducting an unwilling Emmett. But for now, for now, this was what was happening.

For all his bravado and general creepiness, he really was trying, in his own twisted way, to flirt with Emmett.

Not that Emmett had any clue. From their point of view, as they slowly became more conscious and less affected by the sedative, Murdoc had probably abducted them to force Phoenix Foundation intel and secrets out of them and then kill them.

“So..Murdoc..what do you want?” they said, their voice becoming less scratchy and more normal.

Murdoc simply looked at them, tilting his head quizzically. It reminded Emmett, oddly enough, of the movement their childhood dog made when she was confused. ‘Man’ they thought, ‘he even has those dark puppy eyes too, doesn’t he..’

Murdoc hadn’t figured he’d get this far. He hadn’t yet figured out his ‘reason’ for why he was kidnapping Emmett. He just looked stupidly at them, trying desperately to think of some cover question to lessen their confusion. He wasn’t going to just admit to them then and there that he liked them.

He started out in an uncharacteristically unsteady voice, “Um.. right. I- You need, you are going to tell me everything you know about Phoenix Agent Angus MacGyver”

‘Smart’ he thought to himself, ‘shift the focus to someone else’

Emmett shook their head before hurriedly adding, “I-It’s not that I won’t tell you, it’s just that- well, I don’t know much about Mac! I used to think he worked at a Think Tank. I only recently found out about his real work.”

Murdoc, already running out of follow up questions nodded in acknowledgement before deciding that it was probably time to release Emmett back to their apartment. ‘I mean what else am I supposed to do if I’m too chicken to tell them how I feel?’ he thought, disgusted with his own behavior.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? Aren’t y-you, gonna, shit, I don’t know, t-torture me or something..?” Emmett asked, clearly still scared and confused.

“No.”

“No? So, what, you’re just gonna l-let me go??”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

Circling as he was about Emmett’s chair, Murdoc paused behind them and suddenly Emmett felt that familiar pinch of the needle before they lost consciousness, again.

…

“Emmett?”

Emmett felt like they were underwater, just hearing the sounds of the above world from within the depths.

“Emmett??”

‘Oh hey’ they thought, ‘That sounds like Matty. Wow, she sounds unusually concerned…”

Oh, now they felt they were being shaken a bit, poked and prodded by someone’s hand. They didn’t know whose.

Their head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton as they slowly registered more voices in the background.

A voice that was unmistakably Jack’s spoke, saying, “Are they alive?” It was said with a level of heartfelt vulnerability rarely seen in Jack. Emmett felt a bit touched at the sentiment. Even if he always teased them at work about not having any field work experience, he apparently cared.

Then came Mac’s voice. It was a familiar sound, warm and gentle, calm and levelheaded- exactly the kind of friend he’d always been, “Yea, they’re alive, they’re breathing, see, Jack? Just sleeping…”

Riley’s voice was next, assuring a nervous Bozer that Emmett was in fact okay and as of now, seemed to be miraculously unharmed.

Matty’s voice again; she seemed on edge. Emmett didn’t blame her.

“Emmett!”

Emmett suddenly startled awake, or at least, now fully conscious.

Matty breathed an audible sigh of relief at seeing Emmett’s eyes shoot wide open. They were definitely alive.

Bozer was immediately at their side, having pushed his way through the crowd of friends to get there, “Are you okay?”

Emmett glanced about the room, taking it all in. They were back in their own apartment, currently laying on their couch, surrounded by their coworkers, all of whom were looking at Emmett with concern etched into their features.

“...Yea..I’m good.. I think, Bozer, thanks..”

Jack was next to chime in, asking in a concerned tone, “Did Murdoc hurt you? We have a first aid kit here but we just wanted to check if you were alive first, y’know?”

Emmett laughed a little at that and smiled before thinking about Jack’s question for a moment. As they recalled the incident of the hours prior, they realized Murdoc actually didn’t hurt them.. like, at all- sure, he knocked them out with the intravenous drugs, but, Emmett realized, even his administration of the needle was gentle and carefully done in order to cause them the least pain possible. For whatever reason, Murdoc had very intentionally left Emmett virtually completely unharmed.

Emmett’s smile faded to an expression of confusion as they answered, “No… no he didn’t, actually.”

Jack and the rest of the group looked visibly perplexed.

“Yea.. I mean, he drugged me, intravenously, but truth be told, that was the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had with a needle. The thing was thin and he was extremely skilled at poking me without it hurting. I don’t know if that was on purpose or not, but in every other aspect, Murdoc… was actually very civil…”

“Civil? How so?” Riley asked.

Emmett took a deep breath, trying to ground themself before answering, “He.. he just asked me to give him information on Mac-”

MacGyver raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yea- he wanted me to tell him about you, Mac.. but don’t worry, I just said I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did. Told him I’d only known about your real job since you invited me to work at Phoenix.”

Mac furrowed his brow in thought, “And? How did he react?”

“See, this is where it gets extremely weird. He just said, ‘Okay’. So I said, ‘Okay?’ and asked him point blank if he was gonna interrogate or torture me… and he said no.”

The group surrounding Emmett looked even more puzzled, if that was possible. Matty asked, “Emmett, do you think this has anything to do with the fact that you were his assigned psychologist? Is that why he left you unscathed? What exactly did you two discuss while he was in prison?”

Emmett shook their head, “I don’t know, Matty, I would think so? But it doesn’t make sense that he would do any of this? Not only am I a low level agent, not worthy of any ransom-”

Jack cut in again, “Hey, don’t say that about yourself!”

“But there’s also the fact that even if I were a high level target, he should’ve killed me after I left him with no new information. Instead he didn’t even make an attempt at extracting the information from me… it's almost like he just.. Kidnapped me for kicks, or something…”

Matty spoke again. “Then he’s changed his M.O. That much is clear. Emmett, we need you now more than ever. We have got to figure him out and why he’s changed the way he operates. We don’t know what he’s planning now that he’s out. He could kill countless more. We simply don’t know. Emmett, get some rest, but I need you on this ASAP tomorrow.”

Emmett nodded, understanding the urgency of the matter but still exhausted and feeling as though they’d been hit by a truck.

The rest of the group said their goodbyes and expressed their well-wishes to Emmett as they left. Jack even tried to insist on staying over to guard Emmett as they slept. The two settled on having two armed agents do the job instead.

As Emmett laid there, not having moved from their position on the couch, they pondered their experience and wondered what Murdoc was doing now…

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rawwkfingers · 5 months

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The Green Death

Wow. Just, wow. What an amazing serial

Not going to lie, while I did enjoy the entire story, up until the very end scene I wasn't going to place it above Silurians or Mutants for me but Jo's departure was so well done that I really think it elevated the entire serial to stand with my favorites from the era, and Classic as a whole

A huge part of why her departure was so good (the first one in Classic Who to actually make me tear up) is that the entire serial *felt* like a goodbye story for her. Like a lot of past companions, her romance with Jones did come from nowhere, but unlike past departure stories the chemistry between the two actors felt genuine (they were engaged in real life) and her leaving had been set up before she ever met him, not just in this story but throughout the whole season. Even if I hadn't known before watching that this was her final story, I would have known right from the start of this serial. So, when Jo and Jones (lol) announce their engagement and the Doctor quietly leaves her behind to live her life without him, it's a truly heartbreaking moment but also feels like a natural end to their journey together

In a way, Jo's character growth makes me feel bad for Carole Ann Ford because Jo was everything Susan could have been (if the whole alien princess stuff was off the table.) She began her arc as the damsel in distress who rarely contributed, but over the course of the series she became more and more independent, resourceful, and active in the story and I really grew to love her as a character. So when this story began with Jo refusing to go on a trip with the Doctor because there was a climate protest she felt was more important, it was a believable change in her

Which, yes, like all the best Pertwee era stories this serial was also extremely political. And while there were some elements of the political storyline that I thought could have been improved on (I think BOSS would have been a more intimidating villain and compelling allegory without the mind control stuff or the random human emotions thrown in) you can't really fault the story when what saves the day is a mushroom protein replacement. One little thing that I particularly liked was the way that the main danger was unintentional, but avoidable had Global Chemicals been willing to not seek out profits above all else

I hate to say this, but throughout the serial I was comparing it a lot to Series 11 and its abject failures when compared to this one serial, specifically Arachnids and Kerblam. Those two stories deal with similar issues that Green Death does, pollution and corporate greed specifically. But where the Series 11 stories only barely touch their topics on a surface level (and ultimately comes out in favor of corporate greed in arguably the most out-of-character episode the Doctor has ever had,) Green Death really shows its viewers the impact these issues have.

This was definitely one of the stronger seasons, but I still gotta rank the episodes haha

The Green Death. Just, what a powerful story. Political in the ways Doctor Who does best but with more character work than I've seen in Classic Who ever before

Frontier in Space. A really great political thriller with the Master working as an agent for the Daleks to start an intergalactic war, what's not to love

The Three Doctors. I love the fanservice and the world mythos building, but I do have to admit the actual plot is fairly basic

Planet of the Daleks. I actually quite liked the story of this serial, but its politics weren't great and also it having a romance subplot for Jo just doesnt make sense considering how her story ends

Carnival of Monsters. While a fun idea with some really wacky character designs, the story itself just wasn't strong

#rawwk on #classic who watch #the green death

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hanzi83 · 1 year

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Just Another Mental Check In

I feel like because I am not focused on with whatever creative endeavor I do other than the people who have constantly tried to torment me online or in my life in general, I know those are the key people who pay attention to these published blogs so people can study my psyche and find ways to adjust tactics to make me feel like a piece of shit, and sometimes as a mentally ill person who can never shake off the mental trauma, especially when it is not important to the masses or not established on the surface, so this just feels like a fatso rambling in his parents basement while the people with good aesthetic can take their cheap shots and using my aesthetic to seem like I am the most pathetic person on the planet, but when I can see what the system does to people and changes their personalities to become more elitist and have enable shitty behavior, I don’t feel like these people can judge me as much as they think, you know how fucked up you have to be to think because you boast about the luxuries, the spoils, and the connections etc that you somehow think your narrative is the most important and you need cult members to enable that for you to feel like that is not sociopathic, and when I see that go on in the system and more people are recruited to become that, it becomes harder for me want to relate to anyone, I know I cannot confide to people who are from my past, no one in the present, any online connection I have made, because I feel they all answer to people who hold a lot of power, or they aspire to be those social characters and want the power to enable their bad habits, so I am stuck doing these blogs and maybe it is a gift that on the surface, I am irrelevant because I feel I can put these blogs and podcasts out since I am not gonna get any reaction to it. The very least it exists as something else I put out from the heart, even if many people don’t appreciate the shit I put out and have to ignore it, so I need the voices in my head to give me courage or pat me on the back when I do put in some work and the content. The reason why I am writing this blog this time, it is to kind of talk myself through my irrational feelings of feeling angry like I do every year when Mania comes around that I never got to go to one and not even go to the festivities, and more people who have gotten more rewards for their role in controlling me for the institution leaders behest even though I was the one who went through the on surface exploitation, and even on that same show, the fandom of that show who never agree with Stern about what he has done, they still downplay other people who contributed to the show on some level, but it is mostly met with just calling me crazy, doing the lyrics to the song of the parody about me and then the dedicated stalkers who then throw fear into me, they are the ones who make the posts on the Stern reddit when they need me to feel like shit because it will just be those people continuing to discredit and make me feel like shit and then I worry if I do get vindicated, that I have to be surrounded with people who have kept me in place so they could politic their position in my life, try to pitch their fucking comedy to me, then at the same time make me feel suicidal with undermining tactics and cheap shots, it just shows me partaking in the spoils has not made your mental health better, it feels like they are more controlling and feel entitled to every reward and opportunity for sex, and maybe do the system’s shit of doing quid pro quo, so you can’t support someone if there isn’t fuckability politics on the table. And I am the pussy who doesn’t want be like that, because everyone else is becoming that, and it feels like I am kept here for enough time until they fucking really need to eliminate me, they could’ve eliminated me a long time ago, but for some reason they keep me here and I think they have fun trying to fuck with me mentally and using advanced techniques to gaslight me.

So I will say even though I blogged and podcasted through my irrational feelings, I feel like in context of how I have handle shit irrationally in the past, I did a better job than previous years, I know I still made irrational declarations of not watching wrestling or wanting to recap, but before I would be doing multiple lives and declare I want to kill myself and then have trolls encourage it while I am losing it because of the amount of mind games played. I still feel saddened at times and reflect on not selling out and being in my position and sometimes the system spoils and the flaunting people do make you instantly regret it, it becomes so fucking powerful. Right now there would be people who are tied to the system, allowed to have all the connections they want, who would mock this shit because “Bro you are taking this too seriously” but if you took away their connections, and their access etc, and the spoils as well, they would be handling shit worst than me, at least I know what it is like to always be treated like shit, know what it is like to look like shit, and always be taken down a notch, I almost become immune to it on some level but there is some more areas mentally they can figure out how to get at me, but if you many of the people who have gotten too comfortable with me being down and out and suppressed, had to deal with his constant shit, they would crumble and break down, they are lucky to have a support system. I don’t really have that, I just have this social media shit to paint my canvas that has the stench of cigarettes, and sadness. I might lay it on a little thick at times, but I am not the only one who can act a bit theatrical, especially when everything I have consumed in my life has been infested with theatrical shit, it is there constantly in my face all my life, so yeah there is a little of that in me, but I know my rep is not credible and no one for the most part gives a shit about me, or at least they don’t admit that, the only use they see in me, is that I might be owed money in the future and that is why I am of value on some fucking level, but I feel like if people don’t pay attention to me anyways or so they say even though the online shooters are always paying attention to anything written, I figure I can let off some of my feelings out there. I know you are supposed to be mocked for being vulnerable on the internet, but maybe I feel more comfortable doing it because I now have my guard up and expect people to do vulture like things and pile on my already mentally ill fat ass, and I know what kind of people they are, they hide their identity or do it behind the scenes if they are known, but because I expect the worst and imagine the possibilities in what these people can do or what they can say, I know they are not used to dealing with someone who is not relying on a script, so they become their own version of Chat GPT where if you give them a response they are not expecting, they malfunction and their worst comes out. They will get so triggered by this but with no sense of irony tell everyone else they are being sensitive. I can handle putting shit out there and hope it could help other mentally ill people who don’t know how to articulate it, because the system says they support mental illness but you can only recognize a certain kind of standard mental illness, not how being mentally ill while consuming damaging shit can help change your line of thinking, or how people in the system who say the worst shit against people of power might be doing it because those people are evil by default, so people who go off on mentally ill rants, already do it knowing the people they are going at are people who are not some innocent people who never said or did a bad thing, so the public will then say “being an asshole is not an excuse when being mentally ill” when that literally is a huge part of mental illness. So I know how people are used as cogs in the system and I feel for some of these people, the ones who are cogs and want to perpetuate the system’s nastiness and shitty behavior, I have less empathy for because they get cocky of having the connections, being protected, they can threaten violence or try to organize someone’s demise, some people will present themselves as anti establishment but if you lie about narratives and ride off the fact that you call out evil in limited ways, I can’t trust everything you say if you would even lie about the narratives, because in other situations that are beneficial towards you, then you might try to fool people for the worst.

I know I lead a sad life, but maybe I stopped caring because everyone is getting worse and while also looking better, and because I see this shit going down the way it does, I would rather be dead, like not that I would try to do it myself, but just hope that the end is coming and maybe I will have a new life in a new world, maybe one of the other versions of me in the fucking multi verse will show up or some shit, who fucking knows, but as each day passes and I find myself not being able to get away from this entertainment shit, I start to hate myself, I start to hate myself for even wanting to be part of the cool club and have unlimited access but only if I partake in an initiation that gets me canceled so I can justify going more to the right wing side. I don’t want to do it, and you will see more social climbers online reveal themselves to be on the fundamentalist side. Why would I want to be here for this shit. The world is going more to shit, I look at how entertainment has really trained us for shit that is unfolding on the political world, the repeated tropes. It is like between reality shows blurring the line between actual reality and sports entertainment, it has helped people who were reality show people then become influential in the real world because they use that sports entertainer shit to their advantage because we think everything on the surface is completely real and organic. These comedies and dramas showing you political thrillers basically trained you to be into what is transpiring in the fucking discourse right now, more characters being introduced to be a villain for a couple of episodes before the main villain overtakes him, like with this republican politician Asa Hutchinson, I don’t know about the specifics of what this person has been involved with, I can’t memorize the laundry list of shit he has been guilty of or whatever, but let me guess, the corporate democrats will amplify the theatrics of someone challenging Trump in any way while Trump loyalists then point out what he has done and what he is tied to, and they look more like truth tellers even though they seem to be covering for their favorite billionaire in Trump. But then we get sports entertainment with them calling each other names. It feels like the way this shit plays out makes us watch this from an entertainment lens and that is how much we have been brainwashed without realizing it. People who aspire to be cult leaders, they want that kind of brainwashing to exist, because they want to be able to do this shit that others have done. I am constantly faced with it, and then because I see other cogs becoming these people, I go off on them and I know that probably helps me make more enemies because I have this knack for really trying to get at people who do evil shit, but the predicament is they can’t admit they are watching me, because they feel it is punishment for me not to get engagement online or be acknowledge for anything, and yeah I will admit it hurts a bit that so much effort would be put in, but it is also telling that they would do this, because they are projecting what is the worst thing that could happen to them, if all that access etc was just taken away from you and no one was allowed to react to anything you put out because people who have power can decide when you are considered interesting, like people constantly go off on about hip hop being this destructive art form because on the surface there seems to be violence tied to it, and I can admit if you have mental illness and listening to music that has that kind of shit, it can shape your mind, but I hate how hip hop is thrown under the bus before all the other entertainment, because comedy has probably been the most destructive art form, people going to lengths to make people not laugh at other people to initiate them more, if you are not cool with the conservative talking points from the Cellar table, they have people in the industry kind of bully you or act like your comedy is the liberal agenda and it should be discredited etc, the fandom is conditional, like if you spew shit they want to hear they will overlook the horrible humor, you manufacture consent through comedy to have an elitist point of view, they become the biggest court jesters to the system, it is only obvious when it is liberal, but the edge lord shit is not considered agenda filled, the fact that everyone wants to be funny on their platforms shows you how watered down it has all become. It feels comedy has destroyed people’s minds more so than what hip hop has done, but one is just the mental aspect while the other art form is this perpetuation to some degree of violence and guns, and the artist has to take full accountability when this shit could be pushed by executives who get to play the white guy who doesn’t have rhythm. But when the system can decide you are allowed to be taken seriously or be seen credible, they will support one of many things you have said, so that you are encouraged without them saying it, to make more points like that and it will get a reaction, like on Stern me being a regular person and trying to be calm would get me on air but it wasn’t until Howard took interest in my rants or me being an edge lord to notice me, and then the mental illness in my head is “One of the more prominent people in media is laughing at this aspect of me” and I feel pressure to then have to play it up, even to my own detriment mentally. And now I see this happening to others on another level, and even though they will taunt me and try to fuck with me, I still shed a tear for them because they will keep doubling down but they will then not be able to control it, and within a second, all the industry interaction will go away once you are not relevant, and some of them are scared to be and this is why they gotta double down and be what the system wants them to be.

I get into a groove of writing this shit down and get mad I expressed shit better than I did on the podcast, and then try to remember these points so I say them on the fucking podcast. But I felt I needed to vent this shit out. I know it is not supposed to catch traction, but I am trying to get into the groove of trying to write more often because sometimes it is easier to read this shit than hear me trying to spit it out. I am getting to the point, and I am sure people who hate me would love to hear this since they can continue this madness, but it is like every day I wake up and I feel disappointed I didn’t go in my sleep, I wonder what shit storm I am gonna wake up to, and how the world is getting worse, and even if I was well off, I still think of innocent people that will be fucked, and there is already this pre designed decisions made that ensures people have no fucking chance, people that will be driven crazy by more unethical people, or in order to get your freedom, you have to dumb yourself down and become a fucking parody and be exploited for the purpose of social currency etc, so we have pretentious discussions that will be talking ourselves in circles, because there is no room for solutions, just for more ways for this shit to just implode. I think because we look at the aesthetic as the main indicator of what someone is etc, people think that people who are being lured into giving into these superficial lifestyle means someone is free, when that is just to paint it nice to show you their fancy lives so you wouldn’t think cogs in the system are mentally enslaved to an exploitative system, we limit the narratives of how controlled people are and how beholden they are to their favorite cult in politics and entertainment, that they get in line, once and awhile one of them will lose their mind if they are thrown under the bus because they need a couple of sacrificial lambs, but the cult then acts like that is just some random crazy they never had association with, and you will notice the sacrificial lambs seems like they feel they are entitled to the access and their favorite celeb’s time, and to regular people, that shit seems creepy because these celebs are just regular people, but you find this happening more and more, and it makes me question what the fuck is going on in the industry. I know I am going off on random tangents, but I wanted to write shit down, because I am always feeling like a piece of shit, and I know I don’t help matters, but at certain times I wonder, do I need to be at my best or look my best when this world is imploding. I can’t confirm where the future is headed and maybe I should be concerned with that more so than the entertainment that has taken control, I am not saying you can’t genuinely enjoy entertainment but when there is this scary cultish behavior revolving around it, and now more than ever on the social media shit, we are seeing the far right being propped up, so now every fandom for entertainment these people show themselves, it would be difficult for me to sense what someone’s politics were when I was younger or why it mattered, so it never seemed as bad if we were all into the same shit, and now I look at how people run for defense for their favorites., and it brings me back to when I was really dumbed down and would support guys like Vince or Howard because I was not looking at what their politics were and why it mattered when it was just entertainment. So now I see how this politics plays a part in everything we consume, I just needed to vent because I am trying to prevent more mental breakdowns, because corrupt people will do shit, I will vent then they get revenge by using their power to amplify ignorant shit that dominates the discourse, that is one of many advantages the powerful have over me, sure I can technically express myself, so they will use other tactics to get the masses to repeat shit with narratives so they can then make it constant and it will be out there and be the go to things people repeat over and over, if people like myself voice their concern, they need to control how society thinks, and the only people who hint shit about it are a lot of right wingers since a lot of apolitical people will fuck with that message and then they get lured in with more brainwashing etc. while the democrats come off more elitist by calling out certain powerful people, but under a more imperialism mindset, and no one wants to socially consign that rhetoric. I am passing out, I just recapped Mania, and was gonna record it, but I wanted to write another blog to get this shit off my chest, it feels like a remix of old blogs and podcasts. I tend to repeat myself unfortunately, I think sometimes because I don’t watch all the entertainment in the world, my motivation to take from other entertainment and use it in my everyday life because we all do, we will act like we don’t but we do, but it feels like I can’t pick from anything as much anymore as motivation, and I used to do that often and I would find myself having their mannerisms, and I try to hold out of doing that shit, but all of us on some level are performers and some will double down to be in that position but me, I think being kicked off the Stern Show helped me over the years to not end up a more of a pathetic wack packer mentally, looking for any way to get himself more viral and help push me to desire to alone with my thoughts a lot more and not be motivated by being someone going after clout nonstop, my thoughts are background noise and lurking but not focused on because the people who get their high off the adrenaline of getting viral and more social equity so they then double down with that recipe and then having to top yourself because there will be other people competing for the attention, that’s what it ends up becoming and everything falls apart. So It is what it is. I never know the point of these blogs, but if it is just there for people to laugh at and get a kick out of because I am expressing myself when I am at low points of my mood, and they love to be assured I am not feeling good.

#Hanzi 2023 Wrestlemania weekend mental illness irrational thoughts venting social media clout equity lonely cogs in the system Stern Show #Howard Stern

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