#Express Entry system changes

[olivergisttv]

Canada’s Latest Updates on Express Entry: What You Need to Know

If you’ve been keeping an eye on Canada’s Express Entry system, you know it’s one of the fastest and most efficient pathways for skilled workers to immigrate. But what’s new? Let’s dive into the latest updates and how they affect you!   1. Recent Round of Invitations: January 8, 2025 The most recent draw, held on January 8, 2025, targeted candidates from the Canadian Experience Class. A total of…

[markrosewater]

I appreciate your patience in listening to the people mourn what's currently being decided right now. If I can contribute something as well: I am also a UB fan, and I agree with the mechanical uniqueness and the awesome designs and all that.

However, the mantra being spoken before has been "maybe this product isn't for you," and while that was far from easing my concerns about some decisions, now that ub is going to be at every level of competitive play, wotc has taken away the ability for competitive players to opt out of an experience they don't want to partake in. If you want to win, you HAVE to get Sephiroth and Green Goblin, etc.

I like UB as an opt in choice, but the current decision feels malicious towards those who expressed their concerns before who were abated by consolations that wotc has rolled back. It does feel like a cynical money grab at the cost of many of the most dedicated players.

It’s not a “cynical money grab”. It’s us responding to two big pieces of feedback from the players.

1) Straight to modern sets were speeding up the flux in Modern. Metagames are influenced by how many new relevant cards enter the environment, and having a bunch of straight-to-Modern sets was creating unwanted flux. Modern players enjoyed that archetypes lasted longer than in smaller formats. It was a loud compliment often made here on Blogatog. This change is made to address that.

As a corollary to that issue, because we had less experience with making straight-to-Modern cards, our ability to balance them wasn’t as efficient as premier sets. This change also has the vast majority of cards going through the same system and power level, one we have years of experience with.

2) Players who were entering through Universes Beyond (and there are a lot of them - it’s a primary strength of UB sets) that wanted to play competitively were thrown into Modern. That’s just a bad entry ramp into tournament Magic, and it was a common complaint we were getting from newer players.

Universes Beyond’s greatest contribution to the long-term health of Magic is as a conduit to introduce new players. Learn the game system with a property you love, and then once you see what a great game Magic is, become a lifelong Magic player.

To accomplish this we need to have a “softer” landing spot, and we believe that is Standard. Note this is in addition to a lot of other work we are doing to return Standard to prominence.

I know it’s easy to want to attribute malice to a company’s decisions, but we really are trying to do what we feel is best for the longterm health of the game

[cokoakeostuff]

Hi. This may be a weird question, but is Four going to be one person or multiple? Like will he have his core personality split into four when he splits? Or is he going to be treated as a system where he'd four different alters that each take turns being "Link/Four"?

Four, character entry.

Well it’s an interesting topic actually! I would like to explain. We have:

Green: Focused and motivated, the one with a good heart.

Blue: Hotheaded and aggressive, the side that fights without thinking.

Red: Innocent and optimistic, the most genuine and hopeful part of him.

Vio: Calm and analytical, the strategist who evaluates every decision.

They are not separate personalities in the literal sense but rather fragments of Link’s personality, butt they do have a sense of “self” even though they are aware that all of them are Link. Each one represents a part of who he is at a whole. At the beginning of his adventure, Four isn’t in balance with himself so Link cannot merge back into his original self because he lacks inner balance, thats why he remained divided into Green, Blue, Red, and Vio until he solved those problems later on.

Even when Four manages to unify these fragments, the sword keeps the separation latent. In moments of extreme stress or emotional imbalance, parts of his personality can temporarily take over, almost like exaggerated reflections of his emotions:

If he gets too angry, Blue takes control, making him more irritable and aggressive.

If he feels overly hopeful or carefree, Red might influence his behavior, making him more naive.

After he achieves this internal balance, he can remain whole, though his fragmented aspects may still subtly influence his emotions and decisions. However, if the pressure becomes overwhelming and beyond his ability to manage, he could fully split again, until he solves the conflict causing his extreme instability.

When one of the fragments takes control, subtle changes may occur in Link, such as his eye color or the intensity of his expressions. The fragments do not have separate consciousness when integrated, but Link can feel their influence on his thoughts and emotions and they can coexist without splitting into four for short periods of time.

For example four gets really mad and Blue takes control, then Red, Green and Vio are conscious and all of them sense that, even though they are still in “Link’s body” they can choose between wait to reunify again or split into their own physical forms.

they are not a “system” in the literal sense but they do share some characteristics. Once Four returns the sword to its pedestal, he will return to his "complete self."

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More TexAid Mecha AU-AU stuff!

In this chapter - Vortex continues to be an oversized blender, First Aid has Quite Enough of it.

Pls excuse any errors, the tuxedo cat LOVES to sit on my lap and explore my keyboard when I write and I don't always catch everything.

The schedule board was a large, digital board that could be found in almost every major area. It was also available on their phones, easily viewed by all. The medics had one of the deepest levels of access to assess lone workers, and to track who should be where in emergencies.

And the schedule board was wrong.

PILOT: FELIX ANWYL

First Aid groggily rubbed his eyes at the bright light of the phone being shoved into his half-asleep face.

“Whuh?” He sleepily mumbled. His hand flopped around blindly for his glasses before he gave up and grabbed the phone, pulling it closer.

“You’re scheduled on as a pilot today?” Ambulon asked.

“I’m not a pilot.” First Aid pushed the phone away and flopped back down. “I was on the night shift.” He pointedly said.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Ambulon sighed. “I just can’t figure out why you’re on the list!”

“Someone must have made a mistake.”

It was not a mistake.

It was sabotage.

Red Alert glared hotly at them all as the announcement was made. The schedule had been hacked. Anyone with any information was to step forwards immediately.

The only reason First Aid had gotten away with just twenty minutes of grilling was because he’d been in the medical bay for the night shift, and then immediately gone straight to bed – the cameras showed him yawning as he clocked out at the time when the system was apparently compromised.

It couldn’t have been him, and there wasn’t anyone he could have asked.

First Aid felt the cameras trained onto him burning a hole through him, and tried his best to ignore it.

It kept happening. Every morning, his name would be right there on the schedule. They’d tried to remove it only for it to appear again moments later. Whatever it was, whoever it was, were sitting waiting in the system totally undetected. They couldn’t scrub them out. The mysterious morning memos changed too – songs about wanton longing were quoted instead.

A compromised system was unacceptable. In lieu of a functional digital system, they made the switch back to paper. Every morning, a thick ringbound stack of papers would be dumped in the main areas showing everyones shift patterns at precisely 5:30am. First Aids name had finally been scrubbed – but he’d seen correction tape on the pages by Vortex’s name. He was still managing to infiltrate the system.

Pilots feeling brave or lucky volunteered to pilot Vortex, to prove they were made of the right stuff. First Aid watched and winced every time Vortex staggered back into the hangar, doing that grinding tremble that he did when he was laughing, and having the smell of a corpse hit him even from the wrong end of the catwalk.

He’s consuming them, First Aid thought. They’re offering themselves as sacrifices, he’s an altar to them.

Pharma hadn’t allowed First Aid to go back into Vortex to extract the previous pilot (shovelling into a bucket was more apt now) since he’d been stuck inside. He’d not been caught when he’d sneaked into him that evening, but Pharma knew. Somehow, he knew – he’d changed the positioning of cameras in the medics quarters, he’d changed how the doors logged entry and exits. He’d know in an instant if he went. So, he stayed and had to hope that Vortex could see his expression from where he stood behind the gate.

Instead of being the one to extract them, he was often involved in assisting the autopsy. Pharma lead them alongside Ratchet – a way to keep him under watch and on his best behaviour. First Aid never let Ratchet see him step out of line – his disappointment would kill him. Pharma would look at him each time as he catalogued each part, every chunk and shard and unidentifiable puddle, as if to say ‘this is a warning’. As if to check that he was paying attention, that he would see that this would be what became of him if he went near the mech again.

Only First Aid didn’t believe it for a second. They had a deal. Vortex wanted his expertise, and First Aid wanted his body. His expertise was worth nothing if he was dead, if he were rendered to nothing more than mush that soaked into the fabric of the pilots chair and ran into the gaps between the plating.

The day that Vortex’s visor opened and sprayed the remnants of the pilot on the catwalk and the approaching trauma medics was the day that First Aid snapped.

“For fucks sake I don’t care - he keeps killing them!” He swiftly evaded the grabbing hands trying to restrain him. “Look, that cadet’s been scattered all over the catwalk! How are we supposed to autopsy that?!”

“Leave the worrying about that to the pathologists, Felix.”

“I don’t know about your conscience, but I can’t stand it on mine when I know I can do something about it. I’m going to talk to him.”

“Do you want to die? He’ll kill you.”

“He won’t, he promised.”

“And you trust it?” Disgust blended with disbelief. “That AI is rogue, Felix. It’s… it’s broken. I don’t think it will listen to a single word anyone has to say.” First Aid didn’t reply.

“Let me through.” He politely said to the guard. The guard looked between First Aid and the simmering Pharma behind him.

“I don’t think-“

“Let me through.”

“No can do, Felix.”

Pharma had a smugness about him. “See? Now, let’s behave-“

First Aid took a step back, assessing the height of the barrier. He could make that, right?

“Hey-!” The guards arms flew out to catch him as he jumped over, his foot catching and flipping him over. First Aid grunted as his jaw smacked the floor with a crack.

“Stupid boy!” Pharma scolded. “You’re still healing from the last time you got inside that mech! Don’t add to your injuries!”

“I don’t care!” First Aid snapped. “People are dying! We’re medics! Why aren’t you doing what you can to help?!”

“By climbing into death traps? Don’t be silly, Felix.” Pharma roughly tugged him up to his feet. “You’ll achieve nothing if you’re dead.”

“I’ll do a damn sight better if I go see the mech throwing a tantrum because I’m not in it.”

Pharma’s eyes were hard. “Your potential is not to be wasted on some hare-brained scheme. Do not test my patience again.”

First Aid swallowed hard, feeling his legs go numb. Maybe he’d pushed his luck too far - Pharma looked very serious indeed. He relented, relaxing as best he could into his hold, and mumbled an apology.

It seemed to please Pharma. He apologised to the guard for the trouble his charge had caused, and trotted him straight back to the medical bay.

Pharma made a mistake in thinking that was the end of it. First Aid had made the mistake in going to Vortex when he was still full of a disembowelled corpse.

Nobody minded the medic walking with purpose through the pilots quarters. His heart was in his throat, his pulse pounding in his ears, as he hoped nobody recognised him as the medic who kept ending up on the pilots list. Pretend you’re meant to be here.

Pretend.

His target was a supply cupboard that held spare suits. It was still three hallways away when someone noticed him.

“What are you doing?” Their voice was sharp, piercing. “You’re not meant to be here.”

Perceptor. Of course he would pissing notice.

First Aid silently held up a blister package of paracetamol. He didn’t trust his voice to hold.

Perceptor was someone whom he had looked up to when he was younger - a member of The Wreckers, children far and wide knew their names, their faces, their stats on their Top Trump cards. First Aid knew he should have been more starstruck, that he should have asked for an autograph, but the adrenaline was gripping him so tightly he couldn’t think past the now.

Perceptor wasn’t buying it.

He opened his mouth to challenge him, frowning and folding his arms, cocking his hip to the side-

And the klaxon went off.

They both immediately turned to look at the nearest signboard.

FELIX ANWYL stared back at First Aid, glaring and red and flashing next to Vortex’s name.

Giving him a look that promised it wasn’t the end of it, Perceptor rushed off to answer the call. First Aid took a moment to recollect himself before utilising the chaos to plunder the stores and nab himself a god damn uniform. Passing through the crowds was strangely easy – he blended right in to the mass of bodies, and just his luck – another pilot was already rummaging in the cupboard when he had arrived.

“Can you pass me an S?” He asked. They didn’t even look at him as they grabbed it and shoved it into his hands, flicking through the carefully packaged uniforms as they hunted. First Aid quickly thanked him and shoved it into his bag before swiftly walking out.

It was all on camera. He felt them trained on him, watching his every move.

But he felt somehow assured that nobody would know. Vortex was watching. He’d make sure he left no tracks.

Vortex’s response time had tanked. It had never been so low, even when they were struggling to find seasoned pilots willing to enter his jaws. The brass were starting to sweat. Their sponsors and investors didn’t like mechs that inexplicably failed, especially when the mech was supposed to be the best.

Engineers and the maintenance crew confirmed that he was passing all of his tests – there was nothing mechanically wrong with him. His AI was responding as intended. There were no bugs, no faults, nothing out of the ordinary with him.

But First Aid knew what the problem was. Vortex was throwing a tantrum, and it was only the thought of letting anyone else get their teeth into the quintesson invaders before he did that got him out of the hangar doors. His need for blood always won out when it came down to it – and he’d make a show of it if he needed to.

First Aid wore the thin under-layer of the pilots suit under his medics uniform, and carried the thicker armour in his backpack. He stowed it under his bench, always within easy reach - he’d grab it and sprint as soon as the siren went off.

Vortex was always one of the last to launch. Finding a willing pilot to get inside of him was getting harder, and they’d had to start using new recruits. Fresh, green, and who didn’t have a damn clue who he was or about the rumours of his supposed haunting. And new recruits needed showing the ropes, needed to be shown how the helmet worked, needed to have the reason why his name was on the screen explained away.

So he had about three minutes to get to him whilst they plucked someone from the academy. The medbay was a three minute sprint away if you were an athlete. He could do it in five. It would have to do.

The first klaxon since he’d stolen the suit was a night time alarm. He was dead asleep in his quarters a good twenty minutes away – he was only aware that they’d launched when the alarm in the medics building went off alerting them to incoming casualties. He’d shrugged on his uniform and hopped onto the transport, ready to jet off to the medical bay, and silently cursed his bad luck. Vortex would be so mad.

And mad he was. Apparently, the pilot had been mauled before they’d even left the hangar, the mech continuing on with just a slowly dying nervous system connected to it. Blood had oozed from the visor, loudly splattering down Vortex’s chest. The instructor who had brought the cadet up had cried.

First Aid felt the cameras on him. It felt like Vortex was accusing him of something, but surely he was just imagining that. The cameras looked no different.

Perceptor hadn’t said a thing to him. He also hadn’t said anything to anyone – if he did, First Aid knew he’d have been frogmarched up to the top brass, chewed out until he was but a smear on the floor, and kicked out into the cold unforgiving world outside. Pharma had been the one to protect him when he’d been caught with the infant quintesson – he’d been the one to catch him, to pretend nothing had happened and handled his discipline internally. There wasn’t anything he could do when it came to him stealing a pilots suit.

Especially when one considered that Pharma had explicitly told him to not do this. He’d be watching his downfall with a glass of wine and canapés.

It ate away at him, clawing at his insides. What was Perceptor thinking? What was he planning? Was he waiting to see what he would do?

Relief came in the form of a distraction and of stars aligning. It had taken three alarms, three incidents, three deployments of their mechs, before First Aid was able to make it to Vortex. He had always been too far, off shift or dead in sleep in a building where they weren’t alerted to quintessons.

In the chaos of an attack, nobody paid much notice to the pilot who jumped the barrier. Overzealous, over excited. The guards shook their heads at him. First Aid didn’t catch his foot this time, and was audibly wheezing by the time he got to Vortex. He’d said it was a five minute sprint, but he didn’t say a thing about what state it would be leaving him in. He felt dishevelled. His hair was sticking to him. He’d never felt more awake.

The new recruit was there, bright eyed and excitedly drinking in the atmosphere. The instructor had a guilty look on her face as she let them take one last look at the facility, their last look at life.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here!” First Aid called as he slid to a stop. “I’m so late!” He gasped for breath, trying not to laugh in how giddy he felt. Pharma would murder him. Ratchet would be so upset. But Vortex had visibly shuddered, his canopy trembling, and he couldn’t suppress his giggle.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” The instructor looked perplexed. “I wasn’t aware the mech had a pilot assigned to them?”

“Felix. Felix Anwyl.” He smiled at them, still breathing heavily from his nose. Was he sweaty? He felt sweaty. He felt hot. He couldn’t wait to sit down.

“But-“

“Thank you for your diligence! Your service will be appreciated, cadet!” First Aid said as he jumped into Vortex, the visor snapping down behind him with a sound of finality. The lock loudly slammed into place, and First Aid threw himself into the seat as Vortex remotely began the start up procedures. The harness seemed to buckle itself around him, holding him firmly into the seat as Vortex roughly shoved off the dock and began to sprint.

“Woah- wait wait wait I’m not ready-!” His hands were scrambling for purchase on anything, hands slipping from the sweat of his earlier exertion.

Vortex shook with laughter.

[WELCOME ABOARD, DARLING~ <3]

First Aid lost himself laughing. “I can’t believe I did that! Look at what you’ve got me doing!”

[YOU’VE GOT BIGGER BALLS THAN I THOUGHT, I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOU’D NEVER COME BACK]

[DON’T WORRY ME LIKE THAT AGAIN~]

He was pressed firmly back against the seat as Vortex left the hangar, speeding up now that he was clear. In the distance, First Aid could see smoke.

The quintessons had arrived. They were closer than he thought they’d be – he’d never realised how close they got…

The adrenaline slowly wore off and the reality of the situation quickly sunk in.

He had disobeyed direct orders. He had stolen a pilots uniform, he had impersonated one, and he was currently in a mech he was not trained or cleared to operate.

“Pharma is going to kill me!” First Aid panicked. “Oh, I’m so dead, I’m so dead!” He pulled his hair in despair. “Oh!” He moaned, burying his face into his hands. “What is Ultra Magnus going to say?!”

[RELAX]

“Easy for you to say! You’re already dead! You don’t get court marshalled!”

[JUST PUT THE HELMET ON, I WANT YOU TO FEEL THIS TOO]

Bright blue blood splashed up onto the visor. First Aid scrambled for the helmet.

Pain shot through him and he cried out, tightly gripping the seats. It had been easier to handle when Vortex wasn’t moving, when he wasn’t busy twirling and slashing and slicing and running around, but there was so much data. So much information he had to take in, and he didn’t have the hardware required to filter it for him. He didn’t need to know that the panel on Vortex’s left foot right by the heel was slightly loose because of how hard he’d started to sprint, but it felt as if something were out of place on his own body and it was all that he could think about.

“Sorry about that, babe. I forget it’s a bit much for you squishies.”

Suddenly, the pressure crushing his head lifted. He breathed a sigh of relief, pressing a hand to his chest as if to hold his heart in place.

“How many did I miss?”

“Three.” He carved through another, the scream loud and cutting off with a wet gargle. “Four, if you count that one. Pay close attention – you’re telling me what to do to the next one.”

He was horrified, but he couldn’t look away. His words had stumbled and tripped, unclear and garbled, instructions lost in translation. He couldn’t think straight and Vortex was moving faster than he could keep up with – he had to. There were so many. It suddenly made sense why their pilots always came back exhausted, why their mechs always needed repairs. It didn’t stop.

But he was learning.

“Come on, honey, don’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you.”

“Can I take control?” His hands hovered over the controls, a joystick nudging itself into his palm.

“If it’s you I’ll allow it.”

The next kill was more like a dissection. The quintesson felt squishier than he thought it would, clasped in his hand. He held it up as he carefully inserted the sword with scientific precision, the blade slowly gliding down to reveal the peritoneum – it shone like an oil slick in the light of the slowly setting sun, and he could see one of its pulsing hearts straining against it. He was sure it was screaming, but he couldn’t hear over the thunderous beat of his own heart in his ears and the endless praise pouring out of Vortex.

“It’s got multiple hearts. That’s fascinating.” First Aid commented. “Okay, carefully does it…” he thought back to his first dissection. His little hamster, Lucky. The feeling of joy and wonder that he had had, the quiet worship that came when one engaged with the natural world around them in a way that left them feeling much smaller than when they had begun.

His hands hadn’t been as skilled back then. He’d struggled to get hold of a knife sharp enough without his parents noticing and taking it from him, he wasn’t even tall enough to climb up onto the counter top – he’d seen a documentary on TV about the palaeolithic and flint knapping, and a few days later had noticed a piece of stray flint on the beach. His parents had been happy for him to take it, thinking he was just excited to find an interesting rock. They never found out that he’d whacked it against the boulder that marked the end of their driveway to break off a piece sharp enough to cut flesh. He buried it with the hamster.

The quintesson dropped with a wet squelch, the peritoneum breaking and its internals spilling out over the fields. First aid tutted.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean to cut that deep.”

“There will be more to practice on. Look, the next one’s headed our way~”

“Am I in trouble?”

First Aid staggered out of the mech, exhausted and giddy and dizzy and bleeding. They hadn’t suffered a single hit – they were fast but Vortex was much faster – but the strain of the connection had proven too much again. Red dripped from his nose to the floor, splashing up onto his boots and the shoes of the opposing officer waiting for them to return.

“Yes.” Prowl said. “Yes, you are.”

Pharma didn’t look angry. Somehow, that made it even worse. He couldn’t look at him as he walked by - he couldn’t look at anyone.

He’d saved the life of the cadet, he told himself. He would saved the lives of countless more – if they let him, that was. The silence was heavy and oppressive.

The walkie talkie on Prowls hip crackled loudly. He slipped it from its holder and held it up to his ear, brow creased in a frown.

A series of short and long beeps proceeded to play. First Aid didn’t understand what the hell they meant, but he recognised it from documentaries on the war.

Morse code. Four letters repeated over and over.

Prowl stopped to turn and stare at Vortex. Water was starting to be sprayed on his exterior, glowing blue running down over his visor. A singular red dot pierced through it – a camera inside of his cockpit. He was watching them.

“What’re they saying?” First Aid asked.

“… Mine.” Prowl quickly turned and resumed a brisk pace. First Aid stumbled after him, Pharma catching him in a firm hand. Blood dripped onto his pristine white lab coat, blooming like flowers.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Kim Novak (Vertigo, Bell, Book, and Candle)— She fought as much as she could to be able to preserve her own identity within the crushing hollywood system. She refused to change her czech last name and fought for a higher salary once she discovered her male counterparts were getting payed significantly more, which was an incredibly risky thing to do. She went through so much hollywood bs like she was forced to drop her affair with Sammy Davis jr. She played her iconic role in Vertigo thinking about her own oppressive and significant changes she had to undergo in order to fit in the tight hollywood mold which i think is partly why the movie is so beautiful and timeless. She is a gorgeous soul and a great artist.

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Kim Novak:

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 125 (Flowers, But Everyone's On Edge!)

Conrad landed at the San Myshuno Airport just before dark, where he signed for the bodies of George and June Brindleton. After sending them off in a truck to the morgue in Brindleton Bay, he drove around the city looking for a flower shop.

Really, he was hoping one flower shop in particular was open, and he smiled as he approached The Blooming Room with its lights on.

When the bell dinged to signal his entry, a woman turned around with a smile. "How can I help you?" Her face fell. "Lieutenant Gordon. Are you looking for some flowers?"

He nodded. "Something yellow. Buttercups, if you have them."

"We don't usually put buttercups in our floral arrangements. They're a skin irritant."

He frowned. "Forget the buttercups. Just...yellow."

Melissa Ramsay looked around nervously. "Is that it?"

"You changed your hair."

"Ximena's not the only one who likes to express herself with a bottle of hair dye, I guess. I went back to my natural colour because I'm done hiding."

"I found Rafa," he said. "He's in Sulani."

"Why are you telling me this, Lieutenant? I don't care."

"I don't believe that."

"Do you still care what happens to Ximena?"

"Of course I do. But I hope Ximena ends up behind bars for as long as possible, and I think you still care about Rafa."

She laughed. "I think you don't know me."

"So if I told you how to get in touch with him, you wouldn't even want to check in?"

"Lieutenant Gordon, please!" she begged. "If I check in with him, I'll never want to let him go."

"I don't know if there's anyone else in the world who could bring Ximena down faster than her brother, but he needs to be convinced. I told him I'd try to get him a lawyer and a judge who might offer him a good deal in exchange for turning her in, but he needs a real good reason to do it. I think he still cares about you, too."

She perked up somewhat. "How good a deal?"

"A few years, maybe. If he can help us pin Ximena for the murder of Jimmy Stefano, her price will go up and his sentence could come down. But the judge would need to see he'd be a productive member of society outside the system, and strong relationships with good people can go a long way."

"I don't want you, or anyone else, to get my hopes up, Lieutenant. Or Rafa's."

"I don't want that, either," he insisted. "But the only way we can do this is if we work together to change his mind."

For the first time, Melissa seemed hopeful, and as she sold him a bouquet of carnations and daffodils, Conrad thought he'd changed her mind. But as she wrapped cellophane around the stems, she frowned. "Fifteen simoleons, Lieutenant. Happy Love Day."

He sighed, pulling the notepad and a pen from his pocket to scribble down some information while he paid. "He's not using a phone, but if you call Leila Illes and Oliana Ngata at that number, they'll rent you a villa. Their son, Tane, will be able to show you where Rafa's hiding out. Bring good shoes."

By the time he made it back to Brindleton Bay, Love Day was already over. Heather was distracted, worried over Ash's conversation with Ben, but she accepted the flowers with a smile. "I'm glad you're okay. These are beautiful."

"I'll make it up to you for missing Love Day soon, but Sulani was...an adventure. The chief called an emergency meeting to discuss the Brindletons' murder investigation. We've got to try to plan for what might crack in this town now that he's gone. I need to change and turn around again...but I found Rafa."

Heather's eyes grew wide as she threw on a sweater and he changed clothes. "You found him? Did you bring him in, too? Is that the trouble you ran into?"

"He knocked me out before he realized it was me, but he stayed with me until I came to and apologized. I tried to convince him to come back and help us get a confession out of his sister, but he turned me down."

"So you just left him there? He's a wanted criminal. Does your boss know?"

"Rafa's almost like a little brother to me. He was so young, and Ximena worked all the time."

Heather frowned. "Conrad, you're lying for him."

"I need him to trust me, Heather. I think he's the only person who can bring Ximena down. I'm trying to help him for all our sakes."

"If anyone at the station finds out you're helping him, you could lose your job."

He nodded. "I know that. But I'd risk my job a thousand times for you and the kids, too. And your family."

Heather was annoyed, and she chose this moment to announce she'd booked her long talked-about vacation with Spencer. "Spence and I are going to Selvadorada the first week of spring. She's got a dig booked right after you and Ash finish the treehouse project in Henford, and we thought since Ash will be in the city with the Landgraabs until Easter's over, the timing was sort of perfect for once."

Conrad wavered. "Do you really think going to Selvadorada's the best idea right now? If they're upset we've got one of their own behind bars, I don't want you going to their jungle."

"You don't want me going?" She eyed him incredulously. "Since when are you in charge of me?"

"I don't mean it like that, Heather. It's just the cartel..."

"You said yourself you thought they'd dropped her."

"No, I hope they've dropped her. We haven't brought them in because we don't want them to think we're sniffing around at all."

"Conrad, I'm going. You have your camping trip with Ash and I need a vacation, too. Spencer's practically an expert in Selvadoradian culture and traditions and spends more time down there than you ever have," she argued. "We spent years promising each other Ximena wouldn't control our lives from wherever she was hiding, and she's not about to start now that we know exactly where she is!"

He backed off. Heather rarely got upset and he knew he'd touched a nerve. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just being paranoid, and I know you and Spencer can take care of yourselves down there. I've got to get to the station, but I love you."

She accepted a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, too. And wait:" She took a deep breath. "I know you just got back, there's a lot on your plate at work, and the treehouse project's just around the corner, but I'm on edge because Ash said he saw Ben and his dog after school yesterday. I don't think he believes they're ghosts, either."

Conrad flinched. "What do you mean, he saw them?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: There's no snow in the flower shop exterior shot because Conrad was in Ciudad Enamorada. He had just randomized in Media Naranja Park to pick up a suspect (unrelated technically, they were innocent of the in-game case so it didn't help his career points and wasn't a story canon pick-up). I haven't explored Ciudad Enamorada enough but I saw the flower shop and thought it was adorable. Suddenly, he needed to get flowers for Heather. And since he needs Melissa's help and she doesn't live in Ciudad Enamorada, voila the flower shop is in San Myshuno (which gets less snow than Brindleton Bay, anyway, and it's almost spring!)

NOTE 2: If Melissa is unrecognizable, that's because I lost the original (the game deleted her before I could save her after she appeared among the potential suspects for a crime Conrad was solving for gameplay that I turned into storyline). I tried to recreate her but it was hard so I played up how she's changed her appearance a bit since last seen. If this was a TV soap, there'd be a random voiceover when she appeared on camera: "The role of Melissa Ramsay will now be played by so-and-so."

WCIF Flower Shop: Since the flower shop in Media Naranja is a rabbit hole, I found this room on the Sims 4 Gallery by plumlala3 called Betty's Flower Shop. I thought the interior was really cute, stuffed with flowers, and felt small enough to somewhat represent the inside of the small shop in the park!

[mclalan]

Corp Zomphis, 2020s Design Speculation

I want to talk about Corp Memphis again— that corporate style of gangly, dead-eyed characters trapped in a neoliberal purgatory, posed between pot plants and spreadsheets.

I don't need to go too far into describing it. Heaven knows there are already so many takes on it that you're probably sick of hearing about it. However, I think a succinct description of it can be found at the end of that Wired magazine article from a few years back:

Wired: Corporate Memphis: The Tech Industry’s Favourite New Art Style

"But, despite all this, it may not be worth lamenting the immense reach of Corporate Memphis or the design possibilities we’ve been deprived of because of it. The style is, after all, simply a reflection of big tech, and how it has constructed a world with users on one side and executives on the other.

A more interesting and visually rich digital space would mean more than coming up with a new illustration style—it would require a change in how the tech economy is run. Until then, Corporate Memphis is likely to stick around, bendy arms and all."

This touches on why Corporate Memphis looks the way it does: it's a reflection of the material reality it's made in and the economic conditions it serves.

To work in a design job today often involves being a "multi-practitioner"— corp speak for a jack of all trades. You might have multiple platforms to manage, need to create a mix of media (motion graphics, branding, illustrations, etc.), and produce multiple pieces of content, all for some pointless product consumed by placated consumers.

And that’s all in a day's work, to be repeated the next. It's gruelling, unforgiving, mind-numbing work—especially if you take pride in what you do. Life doesn't become easier, but it does become bearable if the medium you're working in isn't fighting against you. A style that can work across platforms, can be easy enough for anyone in the department to use, but versatile enough to allow effort when there's time and money. It's homogeneous to the point where the messy, qualitative complications of art direction don't come into play. You can download a vector stock or make it in-house with relative ease and speed, and it looks good enough. The consumer, despite being fatigued by it all, seems to find it good enough. And that's what marks the style really: it's "good enough." It's a style linked to speed and practicality in the face of intense demand and pressure, low industry wages, accessible skills for entry levels, and high corporate barriers as everything's locked within Adobe's infrastructure.

But its strength as this homogeneous vector glob style, with its lack of any real individual identity, is also its biggest weakness. Although I'm sure some designers might enjoy working in this style, it's not really a style designed for creative individual expression. It's called "corporate" for a reason. If you want something different, you might be tempted to try freelancing...

Outside the corporate design department, you might think you're finally free to create in your own style, no longer having to work in that dreaded Corporate Memphis one anymore. But it’s hard enough to work in your own individual style under the best of circumstances. That's because the whole economy is based on the same structures of endless content production for algorithmically optimised consumption that allowed Corp Memphis to thrive, so you're still facing familiar obstacles—creating vast amounts of content, quickly, for wide and insatiable consumer audiences. So, in a way, we have this algorithm-enforced market of content, favouring those who have optimised their style to be better seen by it. It's no wonder Corporate Memphis has endured past its welcome.

However, despite all that, illustrators and artists still plod on. They end up making stuff, somehow navigating these systems— either playing them like a fiddle, outright rejecting them, or going accelerationist about it, like with something such as Corecore. Self-expression can take many forms, and that potential untapped capital value is tantalisingly mouthwatering to corporate capitalists.

Corp Memphis is optimised to a fault. It's too polished, too automated, and fits too well with the well-oiled design apparatus. Thus, it's developed a semiotics to reflect this—it's cheap and it's perceived as cheap. That's why an art director (typically) won’t just stick some Corp Memphis imagine on an album cover or use it to illustrate a particular lifestyle magazine. It wouldn't suit it, it's signalling the wrong stuff. Culture, art, ideas, aesthetics are reflected in work created by practitioners with an artistic vision, or that taps into what's going on in the present. And this is reflected in their art style, something Corp Memphis can't easily do, if at all.

That's why there's still a kind of fringe freelance industry with a speciality in design identity, otherwise known in the industry as "creatives", albeit small and closely gatekept by the likes of legacy institutions such as Goldsmiths and corporate industry leaders like The HudsonBec Group. If a corporation needs design to be spiced up with some kind of creative identity, it'll turn to these agencies or freelancers from this background rather than use Corp Memphis.

But the sad thing is how a corporation doesn't have total control over the process and thus can't control the value and pricing since they have to deal with hiring these pesky freelancers. But how does a corporation even know who to hire? With moodboards, of course! It’s easier to hire someone in-house with "good taste," who can simply curate hot practitioners to hire, like a dragon collecting .png gems. Although a corporation will try to get the best deal it can, these pesky freelancers can potentially negotiate a price for themselves, especially if they’re some big shot who holds a lot of cultural capital.

But another benefit of a moodboard is that it can be converted into a design guide. Simply share the sorts of designers and illustrators that a corporation dreams of hiring but with a cheaper designer, and ask if they can copy the desired style for less. Failing that, they can just outright steal the style anyway. If the creator is small enough, who cares?

But the value and cultural capital that corporations must seek outside their infrastructure, the very thing Corp Memphis cannot do, comes at the price of what Corp Memphis can do. Freelancers are annoying to corporations. They’re inconsistent, outside their remit, and expensive—since any level of lost capital is an expense. And worse of all, they don’t own them. Work made in-house in a corporation is completely theirs to be used forever, however they see fit. A freelance gig is limited to the contract, and typically you have to keep paying for different uses, or pay a lot if it’s expected to be used for something big.

How dare these skilled workers... sorry, freelancers, leverage themselves. If only we, the corporation, could control and treat the work of freelanced art direction like we do Corporate Memphis. Well, maybe we can—with AI.

AI is a whole can of worms of its own. But I will outline how AI shares a lot with Corp Memphis in terms of mechanics, but it's not "good enough" like Corp Memphis is in terms of its aesthetics.

Let's put it like this, if Corp Memphis is above a stock image, which is above clip art, which is above a farting Elsa asset-flip mobile game, then AI-generated images are below that, sharing the same disdainful semiotics of a YouTube thumbnail. AI renders are synonymous with trash, with viewers combing over images seeking out any sniff of AI to decry it. This is, of course, unfortunate for corporations, because AI is wonderfully cheap and efficient to produce. The problem with even "the best" AI is that it still reeks of AI, because it's trained on relatively limited data sets that are the wrong semiotics that corporations typically use and that their consumers are typically familiar with. It's not consistent with typical standards and trends. But even the AI art styles synonymous with AI are really that of unfortunate ArtStation artists whose work has been stolen, scraped, and trained into these models. But none of it is directed, follows trends, or should I say, reflects trends favoured by brands.

Design industry standard work is also bolstered by their industry standing. Their "credibility" sets them apart from, as Mark Zuckerberg puts it, the worthless creators and publishers who ‘overestimate their value’. Sure Zuckerberg might say design is worthless, but let's not forget that Facebook Alegria, the design language developed for Facebook by the mega studio Buck Design in 2017, pretty much started Corp Memphis! I don't know how much that would have cost Zuck, but given how huge Buck is, I don't know, close to $1 million if I had to speculate. So what Zuck is actually saying is you are worthless, without your titles and industry standing, and are ripe for the scrapping.

I still think it would appear crass to the wider public if someone as tactless as Zuck were to steal wholesale from something like It’s Nice That's list of featured artists, due to the "prestigious" tutelage and culture capital of such trendy practitioners. Good luck if you're on your own though.

There's also the issue of copyright. I've no idea how litigious David Rudnick is, maybe he wouldn't even mind, but perhaps it would be legally safer to just hire a copycat of him rather than train an AI on his work. There's no shortage of copycats of him after all, and they'd probably do a better job than AI anyway.

No, a corporation if it wants to avoid all this mess will instead use AI this way:

Step One: Moodboardism

Directed by their little Pinterest moodboards and Instagram saves, a corporation will find the next latest and strongest trend that they want to utilise, be it Y2K or whatever's current on the human ant colony-as-algorithm site, Carri Institute's aesthetics.

Step Two: The Sellout

Hire an on trend freelancer with a large sack of money marked with a dollar sign to do a year's worth of graphic content in a particular on trend style. This is all then fed into their in-house AI database model.

Step Three: Rise and Grind

It's then handed over to the in-house sweatshop graphic designers as the latest toolset that they have to use. They're now tasked with grinding out prompts in this trendy style with the consistency, efficiency, and speed once only achievable with Corp Memphis.

So congratulations, now we have AI that isn't generic Facebook shrimp Jesus trash; it'll be its own unique trash. And sure, perhaps some AI artefacts might come through, but that's what the in-house graphic designers are for— to Photoshop those fingers. The corp no longer needs to put up with some meddlesome expensive freelance art director, as the AI model is consistent enough that someone in-house can direct it, just like Corporate Memphis. And even then, if it still comes across as AI-ish, the hope is that for the general public, it's "good enough", just like Corp... You get the idea.

And this is possible because a freelancers' perceived autonomous strength as corporate mercenaries is also their biggest weakness. They think they can dance with the devil and win, making essentially veneers for capitalists, never once thinking the corporations will one day come to extract capital from them too. Corporate Memphis is never going to die; it's going to mutate into a corporate zombie... Corp Zomphis?

Why bother hiring individual skilled freelancers to do a job in a specific style when you have a year's worth of art, seeded by one of them, to prompt out your own "unique" designs in their style. It's more efficient and cheaper to approach design as a egragore hungry for its next feed, rather than pay for a single illustration. But you'll just have to trust me when I say that I'm not making this up; annual hires to train their own ai is genuinely what big corporation are doing.

But what about the industry, are they just gonna let it happen? I don't know. But I think freelancers don't typically see themselves as a working class, but instead as individualistic, competitive even, little businesses. This is why I think corps will be able to steamroll over freelance designers and illustrators with AI driven Corp Zomphis, because there's no solidarity amongst designers and illustrators, unlike US animators with their union and perception of themsleves as workers. If one freelancer rejects that devil deal to make the annual quantity of prompt feed for a corp, then the next hire will. I remember even hearing the AoI stressing how it wasn't a union, as if union was a dirty word. Instead its existence is to help one interface with their corporate client overlord. Well, soon enough that interfacing will be about betraying your industry freelance brethren to a corporate egragore, basically turning everything into a potential Corporate Memphis reskin. If Corporate Memphis is the design logic of the economy of the 2010s, then I wouldn't be surprised to see people nostalgic for it in the future, if the speculative 2020s model I've described turns out to be true.

[iamnot-crazy]

Pushing the line part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: The heart pirates have finally collected 98 hearts and are in the final stretch on your goal to promote your captain to warlord. However Law had other plans. He finally confronts you regarding the adjustment to the plan which you don't take well. This happens months after part 1 and you and law refused to talk about that day and continue as if nothing happened between the two of you but your actions and judgement for each other has slightly changed.

****

You sat in the library, surrounded by newspapers, poring over notes and calculations. A sudden entry caught your attention, and you jumped up excitedly. "Captain, we just need two more hearts before you can ascend to the Warlord ranks!" You breathed, showing him your notes. "I think we should go all-out for the last two, and I've narrowed it down to four pirate captains. They all have incredibly high bounties and large crews, but with the right plan and timing, I think we can do it." You smiled proudly, gesturing at your notes and charts. "I've outlined plans for each of them and ranked them by difficulty. You can decide which ones we should target."

Law flipped through the pages, his expression impressed. "It'll be so nice to reach Warlord status. No more people running scared from us. We can relax in towns without worrying about the government." You fantasized, while Law grimaced. "I can finally talk to my sister again without fear of her trying to arrest me," you added, smiling blissfully.

Law sighed, lowering your notes. "Y/n, we've discussed this. Our plan is to use the Warlord title to destroy that system."

"I know, but it'll still be nice, even if it's just for a little while," you insisted, smiling.

Law slumped down beside you. "Maybe," he sighed, his frown deepening.

You raised an eyebrow, concerned. "What's wrong?" you pressed.

Law shook his head. "Nothing."

"You're not telling me something. Captain, as head of tactics, I need to stay informed."

Law sighed, removing his hat and fidgeting with it in his lap. "Remember how I told you about Corazon and how he died protecting me?" His eyes remained fixed on his lap. You reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Law continued, "The person who killed him was Doflamingo... his brother."

You squeezed his hand tighter, patiently waiting for him to finish. "The day he died, I swore to avenge him by not only killing Doflamingo but destroying everything he created."

You nodded in understanding. "And becoming a Warlord will bring you closer to that." Law nodded. "Okay, we can make that happen. I'll go through everything we have on Doflamingo, and when you become Warlord and get access to government information, I can help formulate a plan."

Law shook his head, gripping his hat more tightly. "I already have a plan, but it's something I need to do alone."

Confusion creased your brow as you searched his face for clues.

"I went out last night and got the last two hearts already," he admitted. "Tonight, I'm going to the marine base with all 100 hearts alone, and Bepo will take you and the rest of the crew to Zou."

"What!" you exclaimed, standing up angrily. "No! We worked so hard to get you here. You can't just abandon us! We can help! We are a team!"

Law shook his head. "No. I have to do this part alone."

"Why!" You slammed your fist on the table. "You haven't done any of this alone, why now!" Your blood began to boil as you hovered over the captain.

"Because it's too dangerous. I can't lose anymore people I care about."

"I can take care of myself! The entire crew can! We knew what we were getting into as soon as we joined a pirate crew!"

"It's a discreet mission. I need to operate quietly, and you know as well as I do that this crew doesn't operate like that," he reasoned.

"Then take me! Just me," you pleaded, starting to sob. "I can help you! I can protect you."

Law stood up and grabbed your shoulders, steadying you. "I can't lose you," he said, placing his forehead against yours. "And you need to take care of the crew."

You pushed back, looking into his eyes. "It's Bepo's job to take care of the crew. It's my job to take care of you," you sobbed, tears filling your eyes. "Please you don't have to do this alone."

Law kissed your forehead and pulled you close, holding you tightly. "I'm sorry. I can't risk it."

You grab his back holding him tightly. Before you could respond, his form disappeared from your touch. You whipped around to see he had transported himself to the door which he quickly slammed shut locking you in.

You ran to the door, screaming and pounding, "Law don't do this! Law please! Law!" You shout as you watch Law walk away, looking back at you longingly he mouthed some words before putting his hat back on and disappearing down the hallway.

You continued to scream and pound on the door, trying to jiggle the handle, but it wouldn't budge. You searched the room frantically for anything that could help you escape, throwing the bookshelf in frustration when you found nothing.

After an hour of destroying the room, you sat by the porthole, watching the bubbles pass by as the submarine moved through the sea, and began to cry. You didn't understand why he could just leave you like this on a possible suicide mission. A shadow passed in front of the porthole, and you jumped up. Peering out the window, you saw Penguin walking past.

You slammed on the window, gaining his attention. "Penguin! Help! I accidentally locked myself in here!" you shouted, causing him to turn around and look at you. "Penguin, please! I've been stuck in here for an hour," you begged.

Penguin slowly approached and stood in front of the door. "Captain said he locked you in here for your own safety," he said, and you cursed under your breath.

"Okay, fine, he did, but did he tell you why?" you demanded, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shook his head. "Law wants to go on a suicidal mission and leave us behind."

Penguin's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

You slammed on the window. "Let me out, and then I'll explain!" you shouted angrily, growing impatient. The ruckus finally drew in another figure, Shachi.

"Penguin? Y/N? What's going on?" he asked, stepping away from the door as your angry aura seeped through.

"Y/N says that Law is trying to go on a suicidal mission," Penguin answered. "Do you think it's the Doflamingo thing again?"

You slammed on the window, scaring the two boys. "Again! You fucking knew about this shit! He is basically your brother and you just THINK that he might still be hung up on this vendetta!" Your face turned red with anger as you shouted at them. "Let me the fuck out now! I need to go with him!"

Penguin and Shachi looked at each other, terrified, before sprinting down the hallway. You screamed and pounded on the door some more, practically denting the metal.

You groaned in defeat, resting your head on the window. You looked over to see a white figure peek over across the hall. "Bepo?" you called, causing the figure to jump out of sight. "Bepo! I know you're there! Please! I just want to make sure he comes home when everything is over," you cried, your voice now raspy from yelling.

Bepo crept back into view, looking at you with sympathy. "Is he really trying to go after Doflamingo again?" he asked shyly. Tired of yelling, you simply nodded. He looked up and down the hall before placing a hand on the latch. "And you promise to make sure he comes home?"

"On my life," you stated confidently. Bepo shook his head.

"That's why he won't take you or anyone else. He doesn't want anyone to sacrifice themselves for him again," he sighed.

"Who gives a shit! If that's what it takes to keep him alive!" you shouted, causing the bear to step back. You sighed and lowered your voice. "Please, Bepo. I'm sorry. I just... I... I love him," your voice cracked as you finally confessed your feelings. "I'll do anything to keep him alive." Tears began to flow down your face.

Bepo sighed, reaching for the latch again. "Just try to come back alive. I don't think Cap can live in a world without you either," he said, lifting the latch and opening the door, freeing you.

You bolted out of the room and dashed down the hallway. As you ran, you skidded to a stop and turned to Bepo, jumping into a large hug. "Thank you," you sobbed into his fur as he wrapped his arms around you. "I promise to bring us both home."

You felt the submarine shake as it docked, and you jumped off the polar bear before dashing down the hallway.

You ran out the door to the deck tosee Law walking off the sub, holding the crate full of stolen hearts. When he reached the dock, he placed the crate down and gave one final look at the submarine before hitting the side twice to signal for it to leave. You took your chance to jump off the deck and onto the dock as the engines whirled up.

Law turned around in shock, staring at you. "Y/N!" he gasped before raising his hand to cast his room ability to summon you back into the submarine.

"No!" you screamed, running up to him and pushing his hand up in the air, preventing him from activating his powers. You huffed in his face as you held his arm. "I am coming with you, that is not up for debate!" you snarled.

Law's breath began to shake as he stared down at your angry expression. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I can't stand the thought of losing you," you declared. Law paused as he searched your eyes. "Because I love you!" you shouted, confessing your feelings. Law blinked, pulling his arm out of your hold, dazed.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Does it ever matter!" you retorted, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into a deep kiss. Law initially froze but slowly melted into it, wrapping his arms around you for support as he kissed you back. You could barely hear the cheers from the ship as it began to float away, and you lifted your finger in a rude gesture at the crew.

Law pulled away from the kiss, looking into your eyes. "Fine, but promise me that you won't die protecting me. I don't think I can live in a world without you."

You smiled, hearing the words Bepo had said echoing through him. "I promise if I die, it will be through my own stupidity and actions, not for protecting you. If you promise to not get yourself killed on purpose."

Law shook his head. "How about we both promise to do everything we can to stay alive?"

You smiled. "Deal." You pulled him back into the kiss, sealing your deal.

****

A/n thank you for reading let me know if you want a part 3 or if I should finish it here.

but hey if you wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[the-spam-specialist]

A circus member (your choice of who) has a real bad nightmare and Caine finds himself in the position of attempting to comfort them?

Time for the comforted to do some comforting!

Comforting is Hard

Pomni is having a nightmare and Caine finds himself in the awkward position of needing to comfort her.

Characters: Caine, Pomni

Word Length: 400-ish

The digital circus lounge was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the system and the rhythmic scratching of Caine’s pen against paper. He sat on the plush, velvet couch, his usual energetic posture slightly subdued as he focused on his journal. Beside him, Pomni was fast asleep, her jester’s hat askew and her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Caine didn't mind. In fact, he found a strange sort of comfort in her presence, a quiet camaraderie that had blossomed between them.

He was reviewing his journal as well as planning the next day's adventure. He wanted it to be engaging, something that would lift everyone’s spirits. He wanted them to be happy here, together. A slight frown etched on his face, he tilted his head at his writing. Maybe he needed to add a game that involved cooperation? He tapped his pen on the page, lost in thought.

Suddenly, he felt Pomni shift. Her brow furrowed, and she began to mutter incoherently in her sleep. Caine paused, his large, cartoonish eyes widening slightly as he noticed the change in her expression. Her features were twisted with worry and a hint of fear. Caine quickly flipped through his journal, a frantic search for the entry he knew was there. Ah, here it was-oh. Oh dear. 

Pomni was having a nightmare.

His internal programming whirred, an unfamiliar combination of concern and confusion. He’s had a nightmare himself, but he’d never encountered another resident having one. What did others do in these situations? Ragatha! She was the mother hen of the group, always so composed and comforting. So…what would Ragatha do? 

Oh! Comfort her! He could do that! 

With a surge of determination, Caine carefully took half of his large, patchwork blanket and draped it around Pomni, ensuring she was snuggled in the fabric. He then looked at his own hand, hesitating for a moment before awkwardly placing his arm around her shoulders. It felt…odd. He gave her a gentle squeeze, pulling her into a loose side hug. Ragatha would do this, right? Was this right?

He held his breath, watching her with his large, mismatched eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, Pomni’s troubled murmurs faded, her brow smoothed out, and the anxiety seemed to drain away. She was back to peacefully resting her head on him. Caine let out a slow, silent sigh, relief washing over him. He cautiously released his grip on Pomni, leaving the blanket securely wrapped around her.

The AI glanced at the ceiling, his usual chipper tone replaced with a soft, thoughtful one. Comforting was…hard. His hand went to his journal, his pen hovering over the page. He looked down at Pomni, a warmth spreading through him, and resumed his writing, a new item added to his list: “How To Better Comfort Others: Find Techniques That Work For Everyone.” Perhaps he would ask Ragatha for tips. Because while comforting was difficult, it was oddly rewarding. 

[sonic-syndrome]

please read us the dissertation

YES.

I love metal sonic, genuinely for his design and character ova movie debut. He so simplistic and yet beautifully complex at the same time and while I do it sometimes for fun I really don’t like when people legitimately dumb him down to just an evil villain that just kills sonic. Because he does do that but it’s very bare bones. It makes sense sonic (and even eggman) would just treat him has such but his ai is just as complex if not twistedly more so than Shard, Ermel, and Omega.

He really believes his sonic. He genuinely thinks that Sonic is taking his place and that he is the fake one, The other robots get more understanding of course because they changed to be good but Metal Sonic is just. Not that. He deeply believes people are out to get him and straight up couldn’t fathom when a girl actually liked him. And you can see it the way eggman talks to him in the comics

Even when Eggman becomes good for a while Metal is so committed to his beliefs (actually quite like Sonic but opposite) that he REFUSES to be good because he thinks he’s being wronged in every which way

And it’s made very clear that metal had much more going on his head that what he expresses through action. Yes the other robots talk but it’s still robotic (minus shard). Metal never talks at all and yet when he enters his Neo form he speaks in complete sentences almost human like. In the comics and show they make it very clear the other robots speak mechanically which regular tropes like “analyzing data, processing” (metal does too in really older entries but I digress) or they have a different text box in the comics to show they speak robotically but Metals is a regular one with the difference being is his text is blue

There’s just something really great about a character being able to express emotion while have no dialogue. During the zombie arc is the one time he actually doubts his entire existence, because everyone is getting affected by the infection; Naturally he believes whatever Sonic can do HE should be able to also, so when this doesn’t come true, doesn’t comply with with his expectations and his entire belief system is challenged. Noticeably after that arc he is constantly staring at himself in the mirror

in summary I LOVE METAL SONIC

[lonewolflupe]

Life Day Truce (One-Shot)

This is my entry for week 7 of The Clone Wars Winter Spectacular 2024 / @clone-wars-winter-challenge !

I was inspired by the Christmas Truce during World War I (and I might have listened to Christmas Truce by Sabaton whilst writing this).

Summary: Rex is not overly excited about his ARC troopers’ sudden change of plans Rating: Teen and up Tags: fluff, sentimental, Domino Twins, Life Day Words: 951 Characters: CT-7567 Captain Rex, CT-5555 Fives, CT-1409 Echo Prompts: Snowman / Sunset / *Captain Rex* Read this one-shot here on AO3 week 6 < | ↓ | > week 8

“We captured the tactical droid, sir.”

A sceptical tilt of his head as Rex activated the comm system inside his helmet. “Repeat that for me, will you,” he shot back, a stern tone to his voice. There was a moment of static noise through the channel before the trooper on the other side started repeating his words.

“We captured the tactical dr-”

Rex didn't give him the chance to finish as he abruptly interrupted the trooper. “And since when do we capture droids when we were specifically told to destroy them?” He was raising his voice, which was audible through the comm channel. A slightly different voice started replying to the captain’s utterance of displeasure.

“Yeah, well, Echo assured me that-”

“Fives, Echo, get your thrusters over here and report at once.” The captain didn't have to mention his remark was an order, as the tone in his voice told the ARC troopers how serious the matter was. A quick ‘yessir’ from both confirmed they understood, before the channel went silent.

“Maker, please bear with me..,” Rex sighed, whilst rubbing his eyelids. The battle had been harsh and he had lost a lot of good men. Brothers. The sudden snowfall made it hard to push forward, and even though the tactical droid was supposedly captured, he could still hear laser fire being shot back and forth in the distance. Any shenanigans from the Domino Twins couldn’t be added to his current problems.

With an ominous feeling starting to hover over him, Rex tried focusing on the portable holomap in front of him, taking in the overview of the current battlefield as he reluctantly awaited the arrival of the ARC troopers.

---

Two pairs of heavy boots entered the field command post; Rex didn’t have to turn around to figure out to whom they belonged. With a sigh, he put down his datapad on the improvised desk in front of him. “Please tell me why I shouldn’t feel this sudden urge of regret for taking you in with the 501st,” he shot at them with a low, troubled tone to his tired voice, just before he turned around to face the twins.

“Captain, sir, we captured the tactica-”

“Care to repeat that, Echo?” Rex interrupted him, doing his utmost best to keep his composure. Fives tried to push back the grin appearing on his face whilst bumping his elbow into Echo’s side, almost making him drop the helmet he was carrying below his arm. “He's really done when he pulls that threat,” he shot at his twin, granting him an unamused look from Echo in return, before he dared to take a step forward towards their superior.

“We figured we could use the tactical droid to, er- our advantage,” came his cautious explanation, carefully worded as not to rile up the captain any further. Rex raised a dark eyebrow, examining Fives’ face in search for any twisted meaning behind those words. But the ARC trooper looked back at him in all seriousness.

Rex narrowed his eyes before continuing to express his suspicions. “Then why am I still hearing shots being fired?” A content smirk slid on Fives’ face as he took a step aside, gesturing in the direction of the battlefield. “Well, listen again, sir,” he remarked with a satisfaction that almost made the captain burst.

But the sound reaching Rex distracted him from his annoyance. There was no more sound of battling, but the sound he was hearing piqued his interest. It almost sounded like.. laughter. Slowly, he walked forward, softly placing a hand on Fives’ chest to push him backwards, to make room to walk past. To get a visual on their surroundings.

When he laid eyes on the battlefield in front of him, he noticed there was a strange sense of serenity to it. The constant firing had stopped, and the only thing that currently reminded him of the campaign, was some smoking remains scattered through the besieged city. A soft blanket of snow covered the surface, whilst falling flakes kept adding to it.

He was shaken from his thoughts when a snowball landed near his feet, and when he looked up towards the direction it came from, he could hear a distant trooper shout a ‘sorry, sir’. As his gaze slid over their surroundings, he noticed how some troopers were engaged in a snowball fight - with droids. Battle droids.

“What the..,” he muttered quietly, his confusion not lost on the twins. Even Echo managed a content smile as he watched the captain react to their actions. “Captain Rex, we reprogrammed the tactical droid to command the Separatist forces to aid us in our advantage, sir,” he explained promptly, but it took the captain a moment to regain himself.

“What.. What’s our advantage in all this?” he asked slowly, confusion written all over his softening face when he turned around towards the brothers again. “It’s a Life Day Truce, sir,” Fives grinned at their captain, noticing the flicker of amusement in Rex’s eyes. “And now if you’ll excuse us, we have a wager going on. We have to see who can build the tallest snowman; us or the clankers,” he added to the explanation. Both Fives and Echo stood at attention for a brief moment, saluting their captain before hurrying off into the snow covered city.

“Life Day Truce,” Rex repeated softly, before he shook his head with a chuckle. Only those ARC troopers could have come up with such a plan. He figured there would be no harm in waiting until sunset before calling in their victory and ordering a pickup; the troops deserved a little distraction from the ongoing war. It’s the least he could do, after all.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

The salt of life

Disclaimer: This makes no sense, it's just a list of Sydcarmy musings and analogies but I wanted to share it anyway.

In culinary metaphors

Syd is affecting Carmy like TABLE salt affects mixes in bakery. She enhances Carmy’s flavor, but does not change it. That’s not always a good thing. It all depends on finding the right balance and timing and ensuring the ingredients are correctly mixed because otherwise, the whole thing is ruined.

Salt is dangerous. As a matter of fact, it can kill you.

Salt is basically sodium. Sodium is poison when incorrectly used, but it also makes the ❤️ beat when its levels are balanced out with the potassium in our blood.

In medical terms

Syd is the heart.

Carmy is the circulatory system that would dry up and die unless the heart irrigates it.

The Bear, their place, is the blood. The family.

What makes the heart beat is electricity.

They generate this power. This spark. And it can get out of control, like all sparks, of course.

That’s the chemistry they create when they are together → Beating.

None make sense without the other, BECAUSE THEY FORM A SYSTEM, is you separate the veins and arteries from the heart and the blood, they are simply lifeless. Isolated they don't make much sense.

THEY ARE A SYSTEM. THE MAIN SYSTEM.

How that system works

She lit the spark in him and gave him a heart when he was used to being a robot who only worked and smoked the competition.

Sydney could definitely work without Carmy, but at this point, it wouldn't make sense for her. She would feel lifeless, even if she wins 100 stars elsewhere. Her place is The Bear, the restaurant and the chef. Because that's what she chose with her heart.

Carmy has worked and thrived without her and wouldn't do it again unless it's out of spite, just to show her.

However, I don't think it'll come to that like it once did with Michael, or his parents, he has learned that lesson the hard way by now.

Carmy works as a SYSTEM, as part of something bigger than him, if he becomes isolated, S3 Carmy takes the wheel. He doesn't work like that, he crashes and burns.

But during most of S3 the "spark" Syd ignited in him, the one that got the blood flowing again, gave him a heart, a purpose, where there was only a hurt man who felt so much pain that couldn't even express it and thus, sublimated it in the form of a work addiction and functional depression, and therefore couldn't overcome it either, got out of control.

The SYSTEM was broken, because the elements that formed it attempted to work separately. There was no synergy, just energy that was out of balance. Not completely, but mostly.

Back to the salt

I have already gone over the analogy between Carmy and onions, acid, etc. Most in the fandom have, but here's a reminder of what I think about that:

So, the result of mixing culinary purpose salt (table salt) with acid ingredients is a WEAKER ACID.

We can all agree on Carmy being "intense", right?

Well, when in contact with her he can calibrate himself better.

I emphasize "contact" because when they are OUT OF TOUCH, the effect is almost instantaneous and painfully obvious in Carmy, which has always been, and in S3 it started to become more apparent in her too, as you can see in these previous entries:

They belong together to balance each other out, when there's this distance between them, that we saw in S3, THEY ARE IMBALANCED.

Salt is the balancer ingredient in any recipe. It enhances what needs to be enhanced and neutralizes what needs to be neutralized if used correctly

But salt on its own is no good, it needs to work as part of a recipe, a dish, A SYSTEM.

She's the salt, his salt, the one that brought flavor back to his life, and that's why his story re-started the day she came into his life. Carmy and all that he represents, the restaurant he inherited, the family in it, the family business that Cicero keeps funding, the extended family now Syd found at The Bear, is the system. He is a system that needs to be balanced and sometimes neutralized. Salt is the main ingredient for him, because he lacks of it, he's acid.

Bonus track: Le Chatelier's principle

I have mentioned this before but it bears repeating→ When her dishes were out of balance it was always because of the "acid" ingredient, which means she's outta balance too. Carmy doesn't balance her, he doesn't have that effect on her. In chemistry, acids tend to dissolve salt BUT they can create NEW SALTS too (Le Chatelier's principle). She's fighting this because she knows that once she fully lets Carmy in, it's gonna be the end of the world as she knows it. She won't be able to fight it much longer after this breaking point ↓

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 2

Summary: Upon arrival at Coruscant, the planet's senator gets to finally meet the infamous Clone Force 99 who are assigned to protect her.

Warning: threat to one's life, talks of assassination, beginning of anxiety attack, slight argument

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

The planet of Coruscant was one of the most active planets in the entire galaxy. The surface was riddled with various cities; skyscrapers that tried to reach the sky. The underground system, which often times wasn't the best location to be, was also incredibly active during all hours of the day. And in the skies, modes of transportation were always going from one place to another.

The Marauder entered the planet's atmosphere, having just come out of hyperspace. The descend took a little longer than usual given the air traffic. However, eventually, the Marauder was able to make its way to the capital city. They made sure to land on the correct landing platform.

As the ramp descended, the group of five climbed out of their ship. Not far away, Commander Cody stood at attention and was ready to greet the clone force upon arrival to Coruscant. He gave a single nod to them in acknowledgment.

"Commander," Hunter greeted.

"It's been a while, boys." Commander Cody commented. He looked at each of them carefully as if expecting to see some kind of change, but there really wasn't anything much different about their looks or behavior.

"Not long enough evidently," Crosshair grunted from the back of the group. He went to cross his arms over the stretch of his chest. He was most certainly the least happy one to be assigned this mission.

"You didn't give much details on the line," Hunter explained. "What are we working against here?"

Slowly, Commander Cody began to walk back towards the compound. The rest of them went to follow. Though Cody and Hunter were heading the group.

Now the commander made sure to survey his surroundings before bringing up the sensitive topic. "The senator has faced three assassination attempts within the last month alone. The last one claimed the lives of her guards," Cody told them.

"And that's where we come in?" Echo questioned.

"Our main priority is to keep the senator safe at all costs. Hopefully, if we play our cards right, we can catch whoever was sent by letting them come to us," Commander Cody expressed.

"So lay low, keep our eyes open, and protect the senator?" Hunter replied.

"At all costs," Cody added.

"Shouldn't be too hard," Wrecker said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Don't be too sure," Cody warned. They approached the entrance of the building. The doors slid open for them to enter the lift.

The small group went to enter the lift, finding a spot before the doors closed in front of them. After clicking the button for their final destination, the lift began to move.

"The assailant...whoever it is...they are nothing like I've seen before. It's not like a bounty hunter; they're much too sloppy for a job like this. No...we are dealing with a professional here," Commander Cody almost sounded conflicted.

In the background, Hunter and Crosshair seemed to glance at each other through the corner of their eyes. They both knew the kinds of missions the commander had been on and the things he had seem. It didn't bring them much relief knowing that even the commander was worried about his mission.

The doors slowly opened to reveal a grand entry room. The marble flooring was shining against the soft glow of the golden lights. There were intricate golden patterns that looked like crown molding near the ceiling. And the handles on the door were made of pure gold.

"She should be just inside," Commander Cody insisted. He went to open the door doors, which allowed the rest of the group to enter the senator's office.

The most appealing part of the grand office was the massive window overlooking the busy city. There was plenty of comfortable seating, ranging from single seats to full couches. And a single desk was situated in the center of the room. Though the senator was nowhere to be found.

The Clone Force were a little cautious to step into such an impressive looking space. They felt a little out of place with their custom black plastoid armor and unique looking helmets. Not to mention the fact that they were all defective clones with varying appearances.

It could have just been the color of the lighting or the modern look of furniture in the room. However, everything looked so pristine and rather expensive. They honestly didn't think this office belonged to a senator, rather it belonged to a princess.

Each of them had gone their own ways throughout the room. While Tech instantly gravitated towards the small collection of books on a nearby shelf, Echo found himself standing in front of the window looking out at the city.

Without much thought, Wrecker went to touch a little glass figurine on the senator's desk. Though before his hand could make contact, Hunter's instincts kicked in and swatted his hand once as a warning.

"Don't touch anything," Hunter mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sure the senator is just running a little late from her last meeting," Commander Cody explained. "She shouldn't be too long."

Upon hearing this, Clone Force 99 made their way to stand in front of the desk. They wanted to make a good first impression on the senator whenever she arrived. As they waited, their eyes viewed the skyline in front of them.

All of the sudden, there was a slight shift in the atmosphere of the room. Naturally, as if it was a response, Hunter turned his head ever so slightly to his left. His ears perked up upon hearing an unfamiliar soft heartbeat coming from the room next door. He glanced at the door on his left through the corner of his eye.

As the heartbeat drew closer and louder, Hunter was able to make out the muffled conversation that followed from the other room. Despite the fact that Commander Cody was speaking with the rest of his brothers, Hunter seemed to ignore them and could only focus on the heartbeat. It was the softest thing he had ever heard.

"Do me a favor? Behave yourselves, boys." Commander Cody commanded them.

"No promises," Crosshair replied snakily.

Finally, Hunter went to turn his head to look directly at the door beside them. It was if he predicted the arrival because the doors began to open only a second later. The sound of the door opening caused the other members of the company to turn towards it.

The Senator of Coruscant came waltzing into the room with her assistant at her side. She wore this white flowy dress that cascaded over her feet and dragged on the floor behind her. The upper half of the dress was more sheer and showed the soft supple skin underneath it. Her hair was tidied back into a braid, which was heavily decorated in small white pearls.

For the first time ever, Hunter heard his own heart skip a beat upon laying eyes on her. His eyes trailed down the length of her form, taking it all in for his own pleasure. He was most certainly thankful to be wearing his helmet.

Though the senator didn't even acknowledge the clones upon her entrance, but this was probably because she was busy hearing what the rest of her schedule looked like for the day from her droid assistant. The clones seemed to watch her movements carefully as she circled around the room to the backside of her desk. Their eyes raked down her body shamelessly, losing themselves in thought for a brief second.

Just as she passed by them, a subtle hint of her scent had followed right behind her. Her scent naturally flowed through the filters of Hunter's helmet and invaded his senses. He closed his eyes to relish the scent of fresh lavender, which was not something you would expect from a senator who lived in a heavy populated city.

"Your final appointment is at three in the afternoon," the droid beeped. He held up the data pad for her, but she waved it off.

"That's fine," Senator Rayna agreed. She stood behind her desk and went to organize a few papers.

Upon hearing her voice, Hunter's ears perked up once more. He wasn't sure why he was so enamored with her. Whether is was the softness of her voice, her mesmerizing appearance, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, or the gentle heartbeat that followed her.

"Right," Senator Rayna sighed loudly. She placed the last stack of papers to the side before finally directing her attention to the clone force. "You must be my new escort," Senator Rayna figured.

"Senator," Commander Cody interjected from the sidelines. Her eyes scanned over each clone carefully. "I'd like to introduce you to the group of clones that's been assigned to you. This is Clone Force 99."

Each of the clones proceeded to remove their helmets. They stuffed their helmets into the underside of their arm. Now, the senator was able to get a good look at them. She realized how differently they looked from your regular ordinary clones. And she was intrigued by this.

"Well, you know who I am so there is no need for introductions there." The Senator rounded the side of her desk to stand in front of the clones. "State your name for me so I know what to call you," Senator Rayna ordered.

"Uh, my name?" Wrecker asked slowly, given that she was looking directly at him.

"You all have one, don't you? All clones are given numbers; although I gathered that most clones prefer to go by names. So what is yours?"

"I'm CT-9902. They call me Wrecker," the clone's deep voice boomed. He smirked down at her. She offered her hand for him to shake, which he did so very carefully because he was afraid to hurt her.

After this, the senator took a single step to the right. She was going to make her way down the line of clones. And she wanted to hear each of their names.

"My designated clone number is CT-9903," Tech replied as a matter-of-factly. He adjusted his glasses. "Otherwise, as known to my brothers, as Tech," he added at the end.

The Senator offered her hand to him as well, which meant he needed to move his data pad to the other hand in order to shake it. He gave her a single nod of approval before she moved down the line again.

The clone trooper didn't say anything. He maintained a defensive stance with his arms crossed across his chest. He also wore a nasty scowl on his face. He truly did not want to be there because he had no interest in politics.

"What is your name soldier?" She questioned him. She tried to figure out what was going behind those eyes if it was anger or distain.

Though Crosshair was far from intimidated by her antics. He felt a slight nudge in his side. He finally spoke. "CT-9904."

"And do you have a name?" She wondered.

"Crosshair," he said reluctantly.

Likewise, the senator chose to say nothing. She gave a single nod understandingly before extending her hand out to him. The only problem was that he didn't take it. So she awkwardly slipped her hand back down to her side and moved on.

"I am CT-1409. I'm Echo," he replied quickly.

"Oh," Senator Rayna perked up. "Not a 99, huh?"

"No ma'am," Echo responded.

"He was originally part of the 501st and served with them for many years. He's the newest addition to this squad," Commander Cody said from the sidelines.

"Pleasure to meet you," Senator Rayna smiled up at him.

The senator went to shake his hand, only to find a scomp link located where his right hand should have been. He had even raised his arm as if wanting to shake her hand as well; he was still getting used to not having a hand.

"Oh," Senator Rayna said defeated. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She cringed at her own actions, wishing she had caught that before she made a fool of herself. "My deepest apologies," she went on.

"Not to worry," Echo reassured her. He saluted her instead with his scomp link.

Now, reaching the end of the lineup, the senator was standing face to face with the leader of the group. She looked up at him with curious eyes. But before he could introduce himself to her, she spoke up first.

"And you must be the sergeant," Senator Rayna concluded. She also took the time to study him carefully.

"CT-9901," Hunter's deep voice sounded from the back of his throat.

The senator raised her eyebrows at him as if mentally requesting for his given name. He realized that he should have also mentioned his name, but he honestly was still lost in his thoughts.

"Hunter," he corrected himself.

"Hunter," Senator Rayna repeated with a small smile on her lips. Her heart started beating just a little faster than normal, which did not go unnoticed. He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I've heard a lot about you."

Upon hearing this, Hunter felt his breath catch in the back of his throat which caused his chest to heave out a little. He straightened his back in posture. He could only wonder what kinds of things she knew about him and his squad.

"Uh senator," the droid spoke up. He glanced between the two of them, expecting them to turn to address him. But they kept their gazes on one another. "I hate to interrupt, but you're going to be late," the droid reminded her.

In response, the senator squeezed her eyes shut. She cursed under her breath. "Blast! How could I forget?"

Without hesitation, Senator Rayna went to collect the stack of papers on her desk. She quickly rifled through them to make sure none of them were missing. She proceeded to spin around on the heels of her feet, walking away from the clones to scurry around the room.

The clones didn't tear their eyes away from her retreating figure, subconsciously peering around one another to keep their gaze on her backside. The commander needed to clear his throat to gather their attention once more. They quickly redirected their focus in front of them.

The droid went to hand her a cloak to put on. She slipped it over her shoulders. She began tying it around her neck. "Where are you heading next, commander?"

"Kiros," Commander Cody stepped forward. "There are talks of surrender. We'll see how it goes. I won't bore you with the details."

"Perhaps we can discuss them at a later time," Senator Rayna agreed. "When I am not running late."

"Senator," Cody saluted her. He excused himself from her presence.

The senator grabbed the last of her things, hastily hanging the pile of papers to her droid. She took the data pad out of the droids hand to check her schedule. She was running very late. Nevertheless, the senator tossed the data pad over to Tech.

"Might be a good idea to make yourself a copy of my schedule to have on hand," Senator Rayna explained to him. He quickly typed in a code which would transfer the information to his own data pad.

"Already on it," Tech confirmed.

"Might I remind you that this is the fifth time you have been late to a meeting this month?" The droid interrupted once more. It slowly moved around the room given it's lack of flexibility.

"I have been a bit preoccupied with other things," the senator waved off. Finally, Senator Rayna stopped what she was doing to address the small squad of clones. "Now, about this meeting..." her voice trailed off.

For a brief second, the Senator of Coruscant wondered how she could explain what she does as a career or what they could expect from this type of job. She felt a wave of anxiety begin to wash over her, being rudely reminded of the threats she faced every day now.

At that moment, Hunter noticed a change in her demeanor. He could hear her heart beating faster and her breathing quickened in pace. She began finding with her fingers nervously to contain her nerves, which did not go unnoticed by the others.

"I am a member of the Loyalist Committee which is headed by The Sepreme Chancellor. The other members are senators or representatives like me. This is an informal meeting; it takes place just upstairs in one of the conference rooms," she informed them.

The senator was talking so rapidly that the others could barely keep up with her. It almost sounded and looked like she was on the verge of having an anxiety attack. And Hunter noticed this immediately.

"Senator," Hunter interjected. She kept talking though.

"In the past, I haven't needed my guards to be present in the room. Things have changed since then. Now...I would feel better -- safer, if at least two of you accompanied me in the meeting. Like I said, it's more of an info--," but she was stopped.

"Senator Rayna," Hunter spoke over her to stop her ranting. His voice wasn't loud, more firm than anything.

Slowly, Hunter took a single step forward to stand an arm's length away from her. He looked down at her with soft eyes, which she found oddly comforting. He heard her heartbeat going back to a normal pace. He sent her a small reassuring smile.

"We are going to protect you," Hunter told her. "Don't worry. You're in good hands."

The ride in the lift felt like it was lasting ages. There was a slight sense of tension in the air given that there were six people basically crammed into the space. In their defense, no lift ride is ever comfortable for an average person.

Facing the door, Senator Rayna stood in the middle with Hunter and Echo standing on either side of her. The other three clones were standing behind them with their backs nearly touching the wall of the lift. The illuminated number continued to change as the lift passed another floor, drawing closer to the final destination. Just a few floors left.

Initially, the senator kept her hands clasped together in front of herself. Her hands mindlessly fell apart, which resulted in her hands shifting back to the respective sides of her body. In the process of this happening, the senator's hand brushed against the back of the sergeant's gloved hand on accident.

Upon contact, the both of them retracted their hands in a slightly awkward fashion. The sergeant shifted on his feet slightly, taking a small step away and mumbling a soft "sorry" through his modulated helmet. Though it was hardly his fault.

In response, the senator sent him a warm smile before directing her line of attention back towards the closed door in front of her. Her hands moved back into the original position in front of herself. She could feel some heat rising to her cheeks, but she figured it would go unnoticed.

Behind them, Tech had watched this slightly awkward encounter with a cocked eyebrow. He was quick to nudge Wrecker who stood beside him.

"Huh?" Wrecker looked down at Tech.

Tech gestured to the sergeant and the senator was a subtle nod of the head in their general direction. So Wrecker took a second to analyze them with his eyes switching back and forth between the two bodies. He didn't catch their encounter so he was rather confused.

"What? What happened?" Wrecker whispered to his brother. Though it wasn't really a whisper, because everyone in the lift heard him.

"Nevermind," Tech sighed with a roll of his eyes.

Finally, the lift had come to stop on the designated floor. The two doors slid open to reveal a vast long corridor. A few people were walking through the corridor which consisted of other members of the senate or personal guards.

It didn't take long for Hunter to sense the uncertainty radiating from the senator standing beside him. He glanced down at her briefly to see the worried expression on her face. For a little encouragement, Hunter placed one hand on her lower back to urge her forward and his other hand gestured to the corridor before her. She gathered her courage with a deep breath, taking the necessary step forward.

Exiting the lift, Hunter and Echo walked on either side of Coruscant's Senator. Right behind them, Wrecker went to follow them but was abruptly stopped when Crosshair placed a single hand on his chest. The much larger clone nearly toppled over his own feet and looked towards his brother for some form of explanation.

"Wouldn't want to step on the senator's dress, would we, Wrecker?" Crosshair teased him. He gestured to the white train that flowed behind her dress and trailed along the floor.

"Oh right," Wrecker agreed while scatching the back of his neck.

The three clones waited until the others had properly exited the lift before finally following them through the corridor. They made sure to be two steps behind so they wouldn't step on the senator's dress.

And Wrecker was relieved that his brother saved him the embarrassment because he couldn't imagine the look on the senator's face if she ever found a large footprint on her white dress.

Walking through the corridor, the escort found themselves quickly becoming the center of attention. It seemed like they continued to receive stares from passing senators or workers from the capital. This was something they were commonly used to, especially back on Kamino. But for some reason, it felt different this time around.

"Sorry about the unwanted attention," Echo said from beside her.

"Hmm? I hadn't noticed," Senator Rayna replied with a small smile on her face. The clones were a little relieved to hear that the senator did not mind in the slightest.

In the short distance, a few clones were striding down the long length of the corridor with blasters in hand. The clone armor that they wore was adorned with red accents, hinting to the fact that they were members of the Coruscant Guard. They were elite clone shock troopers whose main purpose was to protect the Galactic Republic Capital. They were some of the best clones the Republic had to offer.

In passing, the Coruscant Guard took a second to stare at the passing members of Clone Force 99. They nudged each other and gestured to the group of defective clones. Their unnatural appearances always caused them to garner more attention than they would have liked.

"Hey," one of the guards called attention to his buddy standing beside him. He tipped his head to gesture to them. "Get a load of these guys."

"Those guys are clones?" Another clone remarked from the sidelines. "They sure don't look like clones."

Once the Coruscant Guard was out of their line of sight, Crosshair seemed to glance over his shoulder. He seemed to grumble something under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the batch of regs behind them.

"Remind me again why you weren't assigned members from the Coruscant Guard?" Crosshair questioned. It seemed like an obvious choice for an escort given that they were already stationed on Coruscant.

"Because my last guards were part of the Coruscant Guard," Senator Rayna replied flatly. "And they didn't do a great job."

"Fair enough," Crosshair accepted. He almost wanted to chuckle at this because he knew the guard was not nearly as skilled as everyone gave them credit for.

Upon rounding a corner, Senator Rayna halted in her tracks to stand in front of a closed door. The other members of her escort seemed to stop beside her, waiting for her next step. She activated the panel on the right side which opened the door for them. She quickly stepped inside with Hunter and Echo following behind her.

As the door closed, Wrecker and Tech went to stand on either side of the door for the extra added protection. And Crosshair began walking down to corridor to secure the perimeter. Back inside the room, Hunter and Echo took their stops by standing beside one another in the back of the room. Their eyes never leaving the senator's moving figure.

"My apologies for being late," Senator Rayna announced. She went to sit at the head of the table, finding a small stack of papers in her place meant for her. She quickly looked them over.

"No worries, my dear. I'm sure you have plenty of other things on your mind," an older voice spoke from the far side of the table. Raising her head, Senator Rayna's eyes landed on the familiar form of Chancellor Palpatine who was sitting at the head on the other side.

"Right. Now what have I missed?" Senator Rayna questioned. Her eyes shifted between the various senators within the committee, half expecting one of them to catch her up to date since she arrived so late.

On the right side of the table, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Padmé Amidala of Naboo were sitting beside one another. On the left side of the table, Mon Mothma of Chandrilla and Orn Free Taa of Ryloth had also been apart of this committee. The senators looked to each other in order to see who would speak first.

"We were just discussing the details surrounding the upcoming Gala," Senator Amidala explained.

The Senator of Coruscant proceeded to rifle through the stack of papers in front of her, attempting to find the list of things that still needed to be completed in preparation for the gala.

For a moment, Hunter's gaze seemed to drift towards the window in the large conference room. He studied the buildings across the way carefully, spotting a few unoccupied rooftops. It was the senator's voice which brought him out of his train of thoughts.

"How far out are we again?" Senator Rayna asked.

"Three months," Chancellor Palpatine said rather calmly.

"Are things going accordingly with the planning?" Senator Rayna wondered. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, which caused the senator to look up at them with a confused expression. "What's going on? You've all been acting weird."

The other senators continued to remain silent. However, they looked at each other as if they were all thinking the same thing and were choosing to stay quiet about it. Finally, Bail Organa gathered the courage to speak for the rest of them. He spoke softly and calmly with hopes that it would help soften the blow he was about to deliver.

"We think you should take a hiatus," Bail Organa replied.

"A hiatus? From what?" Senator Rayna asked in utter confusion.

"From your job -- your position as senator of this planet," Chancellor Palpatine added. "Law low for a little bit until things die down."

"I don't need to law low. What I need to do is my job and taking a hiatus will not help me do that," Senator Rayna argued. She rose out of her seat in a furry.

"Y/n," Mon Mmtha interjected. She spoke with a calm voice. "We are worried about you and your wellbeing."

"I have a new escort. They will protect me," Rayna would not drop her argument.

"And the hiatus will only add to that protection," The Supreme Chancellor claimed. He was trying to sound optimistic about the proposition, which only seemed to anger the senator more.

"I have to present a treaty at the end of the quarter. And we vote a week later. I can't miss that," Senator Rayna tried to reason with them.

"It can be pushed back," Chancellor Palpatine suggested. He shrugged his shoulders at the notion, seemingly unfazed by the option of pushing back her speech.

"Til when?" Rayna inquired angrily.

"Indefinitely."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna leaned forward to press her hands against the table. She looked the chancellor dead in the eyes from across the room. She wore a stern look on her face.

"I have been working on this treaty for months, changing the littlest of details to make sure it is nothing short of perfect. I applied for the notion to be brought to the senate at the end of the quarter and it was accepted. I am going to present this," Senator Rayna said sternly.

Look back out the window, Hunter saw a small perch on one of the rooftops. He almost wondered if that was a sniper's nest; it would have been a prime location if it had been. With that in mind, Hunter's eyes trailed along the length of the sniper's path. His gaze settled on the wood table in the room. And his stomach dropped.

"E-Echo?" Hunter whispered to his comrade standing beside him.

"What?" Echo said in the quietest voice.

The sergeant was staring directly at what looked like a small nick in the middle of the wooden table. It couldn't have been more than an inch in diameter. There was a small dark circle around it. It had to have been from a blaster shot.

The senator's hands were on either side of said hole. He quickly came to realize that if the sniper had raised his weapon just a little higher, it would have gone right into the senator's head.

"I think this is where it happened," Hunter concluded. Whoever had taken the shot knew what they were doing. They fired a warning shot. At least, that seemed to be the case before they proceeded to take out the guards.

The sergeant's mind was occupied elsewhere. He hadn't been fully listening to the conversation up until now. He tuned his ears into what the chancellor had to say about this. And sure enough, Hunter's suspicious was right.

"Who says you will even be around to present your treaty?" Chancellor Palpatine wondered. "The last time you were in this room -- it did not end well. You could have been killed if your guards had not been there."

It suddenly made sense. The senator was feeling nervous about leaving her office to come here because of what happened the last time she was there. She was still feeling the affects of the incident. And whether she chose to deny it, it was affecting her mental health now.

"We cannot force you to take a hiatus, but we strongly advice it."

"Please Y/n," Senator Amidala said softly from the sidelines. "We don't want you to get hurt."

"I appreciate your concern -- truly I do," Senator Rayna began. She looked over the faces sitting around the table. "But I have to be there for my planet and for my people. You should all understand that."

"We do," Senator Organa nodded his head in agreement.

"Then let me do my job," Senator Rayna pleaded her case one final time. Her eyes shown with sympathy.

With great hesitation, the other senators looked towards one another in a form of silent communication. A few of them seemed to nod their heads gently as if to say they will allow the senator to operate as she always had been. Finally, The Supreme Chancellor reluctantly gave her his approval in the form of a short and curt nod of the head.

"Very well," Chancellor Palpatine agreed. He sent her a smile. "Continue as you were, senator."

By the end of the meeting, a majority of the members had gone their separate ways since their schedules differed. Now, it seemed like only Senator Organa, Senator Amidala, and Senator Rayna remained in the room. While the Senator of Alderaan went to speak with the newest escort, Senator Amidala went to stand beside her best friend and greeted her with a warm smile. The two young women began talking amongst themselves.

On the other side of the room, Senator Organa went to talk to Hunter and Echo. He took the time to shake both of their hands in greeting and introduced himself to them.

"You must be Clone Force 99," Bail Organa noted.

"We are two fifths of them," Echo claimed. "The others are right outside."

"I was the one to reach out to General Kenobi and Commander Cody about finding Senator Rayna a new escort. I've heard a lot of things about your squad," Senator Organa replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"All good things, I hope." Hunter wondered.

"You know your own reputation better than anyone. You tell me," Senator Organa stated. He quirked his eyebrow at the two clone troopers in front of him. They remained silent because he did bring up a good point.

Looking over his shoulder, Bail Organa looked towards the two senators talking to each other. His eyes softened upon seeing how the two of them interacted with each other. While they were best friends, he always thought they acted more like sisters (though they actually got along with each other). He felt a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"She's a handful, that one. Once she sets her mind on something, she won't back down easily. One of the most stubborn people I know," Bail chuckled to himself.

Neither Hunter or Echo doubted that. They had just witnessed how stubborn she could be in their meeting and how she refused to take a hiatus despite the fact that her life was on the line. However, was it stubbornness or selflessness?

For a brief moment, Hunter found himself following his line of sight until it landed on the senator. She seemed so carefree; her face was radiating with beams of happiness. Her lips turned upwards into a smile and her laugh echoed over to them.

"I won't tell you how to do your job," Bail Organa returned to their conversation. He looked between the two clones. "But can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Of course, senator." Hunter nodded his head.

"Be mindful of her. She's gone through a lot recently and she's grown more sensitive to her surroundings. She doesn't sleep most nights in fear of what may happen when she closes her eyes," Senator Organa claimed.

Slowly, Hunter's eyes drifted back to the senator standing in front of him. He saw the gentlest and kindness in his eyes. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he cared deeply for his fellow senator. But then things turned more solemn.

"She's like the daughter I never had," Bail's voice was laced with a heavy sense of sadness. "If anything should happen to her--"

"We know, senator." Hunter interjected. He placed a hand on the senator's shoulder. "We'll try our hardest to take care of her for you."

"Thank you," Bail gave a nod of appreciation.

Across the length of the room, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna caught up with each other. They had spent some time apart. While one was traveling the galaxy, the other was strictly confined to the planet for her safety. It truly felt like eternity since they had last seen one another.

"I heard Senator Organa reached out to General Kenobi for assistance," Senator Amidala began. "Did he travel alone or--"

"He was accompanied by Commander Cody," Senator Rayna explained. The corners of her lips tugged into a mischievous all-knowing smirk. "His Padawan was not with him if that's what you're wondering," Senator Rayna added.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Senator Amidala scoffed awkwardly. She shook her head at her friend's ridiculous comment.

"Oh please," Senator Rayna sighed. She rolled her eyes. "You think I don't notice how you are constantly asking about him and pining over him."

"I do not!" Padmé scolded her.

"You do know that it is forbidden for the jedi to form attachments," Senator Rayna tried to talk some reason into her friend. She knew that there was some unspoken thing going on between them, but she didn't know the details of it.

"Enough about me," Padmé quickly dismissed the conversation with a wave of her hand. "What about you?"

"Me? What about me?" Y/n scoffed slightly.

"Isn't there someone you are pining over yourself?" Senator Amidala wondered. She cocked an eyebrow at her in a suggestive manner.

"No, I am not pining over someone." Senator Rayna shook her head in denial. "I'm a little bit occupied with other matters at the moment."

From across the room, Hunter's highly sensitive ears had picked up their conversation unbeknownst to them. He turned his head ever so slightly to be more in tune. He felt his heart flutter once again in his chest.

Finally, Senator Amidala and Senator Rayna went to leave the room by walking beside one another. The others made sure to follow behind them. They entered into the corridor to be met by the rest of the squad.

"Perimeter is secure," Tech relayed to his sergeant. Hunter gave a curt nod of acceptance. "The shuttle is ready for departure whenever the senator sees fit."

Now Hunter and Echo had shifted to stand beside their brothers in the corridor. The senators had directed their line of attention to view the small squad of soldiers. They certainly did not look like your regular batch of clones. Their armor didn't even match the traditional white with hinted colored accents. It was more of a dark grey color and was accompanied with hinted red accents.

Not only did each of their helmets mismatch, but so did their physical appearance. The one near the back was a literally giant, two of the others were tall and lanky, the other one looked more like a droid, and the last one had broad shoulders and a strong built. Just by looking at them, one could tell that there was something off and that they were genetically enhanced.

"Ma'am," Hunter drew the senator's attention. "Whenever you are ready."

The Senator of Coruscant nodded her head understandingly. She quickly gave a brief farewell to her fellow senators. The clones saluted the other senators as a form of respect. The senator proceeded to walk back down the long length of the corridor with her new clone escort following right behind her.

Meanwhile, Senator Organa and Senator Amidala watched their retreating figures with keen eyes. They saw how their associate interacted with this new batch of rogue clones. She didn't seem to mind or question their abnormalities. At first, Senator Rayna had been hesitant to ask for help from the jedi and was uncertain about having a clone escort. But now, things seemed to have changed her mind. And the senators wanted to know why.

CHAPTER THREE HERE

Taglist:

@totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana

[txttletale]

bundletober #13: blazing hymn

alright i've fallen behind on bundletober (the series of blog posts where i review and talk about a ttrpg i got in a bundle every day) and am hoping to make up the difference by putting out two entries today. this is the first one, and i'm looking at the mecha-piloting, synthetic-armour wearing, blaspheming-against-God-and-his-angels game blazing hymn by peach garden games.

now sadly this game is not a lyric/blackout poetry game about rewriting church hymns to be about gay sex. someone should make that btw. no it's just about wearing highly advanced battlesuits powered by the song of your heart to kill aliens with weapons of pure energy. which is about as cool.

first off, the layout of this game is unique and stylish. there are hexagons everywhere:

the game puts sparse splashes of dreamy pastel colours amid a constantly shifting set of black and white hexagons. it gives the book a visual identity that is at once both visually distinct and also changing massively from page to page. it's a really cool way to mix things up and keep you wanting to turn the page if just to keep seeing what the next one even looks like.

what's the game about? simple. angels have come to earth to destroy it badly. with the power of song, young people can power specially designed battlesuits, called Hymnals, that when not activated collapse down into crystal necklaces. it's a pretty anime concept--the game is pretty open about being inspired by Evangelion and Symphogear, neither of which i've actually seen--but it's cool as hell. the aesthetics of the layout really help bring the aesthetics of the game itself, of technology and ethereal mysticism merged into one thing, to life.

the game uses a pretty simple three-stat system where you build dice pools with a state relevant to an action and can get a full success, mixed success, or failure, depending on what you roll. your characters have two resources, Health, which is what it sounds like, and Gain, which is essentially magical power. because you can swap Health for Gain and Gain for Health at a 1-1 ratio with no restrictions, i'm not really sure why they're separate things--seems like a missed opportunity to not only simplify the mechanics but also create a strong mechanical narrative element by making Gain the only thing that keeps you going--once your song is silenced, you're out.

to create a character, you pick from one of six unit classes--here's where i'd describe the six classes, but honestly, they don't quite feel distinct enough. a lot of the powers you can pick for each hymnal class feel very similar, or are outright overlapping in a lot of cases. this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the descriptions of the hymnals, while trying to clarify their combat roles, all end up seeming to repeat themselves or say contradictory things. i think some direct ties between those descriptions and their mechanics would have helped--i'd find it a lot easier to remember that, for example, the 05 Xyston type "brutal in combat" if that flavour text was followed by a direct reference to one or more of its abilities. they do all have pretty different stats--which, in a game with a very simple and elegant combat system, means i'm confident they play very differently once you hit the table. but just looking at them, as a prospective player, i struggle to tell the difference.

i don't have that problem with the next character creation mechanic, though, which is choosing the songs you sing to power your hymnal. each song, as well as a thematically appropriate set of stat boosts, also prompts a pair of revealing character questions. they're the kind of mechanic that i want to get my hands on because they make it fun to create characters, giving real mechanical expression to the emotional fundamentals of who they are.

the combat system itself seems really, really good. it's astoundingly simple--you're encouraged to use a map, but there's no fiddly grid or distance tracking, just the ability to move between being Close, Near, or Far from an enemy. it keeps the numbers low to keep it getting silly and doesn't bother with any of the unecessary bookkeeping and fiddliness that plagues TTRPG combat as a whole. no initiative, no separate turns--there's a 'player' turn and a GM turn, and during the GM turn the GM picks from enemy's listed actions until they've done two for each player. players can use their abilities on the GM turn, and the game encourages the GM to take enemy actions that wil lforce them to--so nobody's ever standing around twiddling their thumbs waiting for the whole table to rotate back to them, and having a lot of enemies doesn't mean the players listen to the GM talk for fifteen minutes.

there's two unique mechanics that i think are very interesting-- Civilians and Condemnation. Civilians are--well, exactly what they sound like. on their turn, players can use an action to evacutate up to 5 of them. this extremely small and simple mechanic is fucking genius. so many games tell you they're about saving innocent people, but yet the only mechanical verbs you have to interact with anyone are violent ones. as elaine scarry says in the body in pain:

so in a way i think blazing hymn puts its money where its mouth is in a way very few combat rpgs with emancipatory or heroic aspirations bother. angels are said to attack populated areas--you're sent to preserve life as well as destroy the enemy. it makes the game feel fundamentally different, like despite the questionable ethics of hymnals (after all, they only work on young people, who then have to be sent into deadly combat situations) there is something heroic you can do.

the second cool mechanic is condemnation, a reality-warping toxin that angels use to destroy the places they're sent to. this rocks because it adds a ticking timer to the battlefield, a passive threat that forces the player characters to be proactive. if condemnation gets too high, not only is the fight going to get harder, but civilians are going to die en masse. it's a great piece of game design that gives the GM a great lever to pull for pacing and urgency.

i also really like that one of the steps of the GM turn is to 'change the situation', whether that means something happens in the narrative or something on the map changes (a train arriving is the example the book gives) or more angels attack. in general, one of my biggest complaitns about d&d is that unless a DM takes it upon themselves to design additional mechanics and encounters outside of anything the game actually gives them, combat inevitably turns into two lines of people hitting each other with sticks until one of them dies. i love dynamic, progressing combat, combat where the stakes change moment to moment. and blazing hymn delivers.

anything else? oh yeah, the angel designs are cool as fuck.

god damn. anyway despite a few minor issues with the hymnals themselves, the core of blazing hymnal is fucking good, a nice tight and razor-sharp combat system wrapped up in pulsing pastel crystalline aesthetics. if you like cool anime fights and like having the rules to back it up but hate complexity, crunch, and tedium, this might be the perfect game for you. it's certainly given me a lot of cool design ideas to take foreward into my own projects.

blazing hymn is available for purchase as a digital download through itch.io

[chef-mordo]

Hyper-Species Database Entry #001 | Gojira Serizawaii (“Godzilla”)

Species: Gojira serizawaii (Godzilla)

Title: The God of Destruction

First Modern Sighting: August 9, 1945

Temporal Range: 245-0 Ma

Height: 125.67 Metres

Weight: 132,053.47 Tonnes

Category: 0

The true apex predator of Earth’s entire global ecosystem, Gojira are a colossal species of highly derived semi-aquatic hyper-faunal synapsids from an era long-forgotten by humanity. Fossil evidence points towards a split from early gorgonopsid species in the Middle Permian of South Africa before reaching its current form in the Anisian stage of the Middle Triassic Epoch. Throughout the evolution process of the Godzilla species, its ancestors had somehow acquired G-cells and had subsequently begun to immigrate into radioactive deep-sea trenches. Over time this led to the development of large dorsal plates along the animals' spines. These leaf-like structures serve the function of absorbing sunlight and radiation from the surrounding area and converting it into “G-Radiation”, a specialized form of radiation that the species uses both to fuel itself and to power specialized abilities. The radiation can be carried throughout the body through large vein-like structures beneath the skin. This radiation is primarily stored in numerous small chambers along the back and the tail of the creature. Additionally, the plates form a crystal-like structure on the end of the creature’s tail that seems to also be capable of releasing excess radiation. Water from the gills is also filtered and used to cool the main reaction chamber. This system is referred to as the “nuclear system” and functions similarly to a nuclear reactor, creating energy with no need for food. Though the young need to eat quite often to supplement growth, it is common for the species to eat the remains of adversaries they have killed. In addition to gills, the animals also have lungs making them fully capable of surviving in any of Earth’s various environments. The lungs are connected to an additional sac used to store hydrogen for specialised defensive and offensive capabilities. The species also seems to be able to quickly adapt to new opponents as new structures form and change in short periods when faced with stress. This causes the species to be both highly unpredictable and it is likely why they’ve become so successful. Gojira even seems to be able to adapt to new forms of radiation and even DNA further modifying themselves beyond what any other known species is capable of. But these are not the only unique features of Godzilla’s body. To successfully pump blood throughout their entire body, the species has a total of three hearts, one is located in the chest, waist, and tail. This allows the species to keep a constant steady blood flow, though the veins are insanely durable as it is needed to balance the pressure from three hearts. Gojira also have a second, smaller brain located between their hips. This brain serves the purpose of controlling the movement of the tail and regulating cooling within the body. 

Godzilla are believed to be among the most intelligent of all species on Earth, showing clear signs of both sentience and sapience. The species seems to be fairly expressive with their display of emotions, changes in posture, muscle tone, gait, facial expressions, vocalizations, pupil dilation, and even bioluminescence displays have been observed to occur. Evidence even points towards some level of understanding of other species as well as basic cross-species communication, though the species does seem to be somewhat antisocial and will not interact with others unless there is no other option. Gojira also seems to retain a high intellect with the ability to predict and interpret the actions of others, as well as showing an understanding of cause and effect and a relatively high level of problem-solving skills.

As with most kaiju, the scales of the Godzilla species are impenetrable to conventional weaponry, with typically only other kaiju or specially-made anti-kaiju weaponry able to do any damage to it. They are also resistant to nuclear weapons due to their atomic nature. Weapons made from the metal cadmium have been shown to at least serve as effective deterrents or methods of exhausting the daikaiju, though research is inconclusive as to the extent of this weakness and it varies between members of the species, especially if they had adapted due to a prior experience with the metal. In addition to the extreme defensive capabilities, Gojira also boast an intense regenerative ability, being able to recover from near-fatal wounds in only two months. Godzilla’s species have incredibly powerful legs as well as a long developed tail for locomotion, balance, and combat. The species is shown to be highly capable of travel both on land and in water with a max running speed estimated to be 250 KPH and a max swimming speed of 65 knots per hour. The tail can be used effectively as a whip against opponents and sports a sharp modified dorsal near the end capable of tearing through flesh with ease. The species also has incredibly powerful jaws and arms that allow for easy close combat. In addition to these physical abilities, the species also has a variety of more specialized abilities including the following:

Atomic Breath: G-radiation stored in the body runs through the vein structures into the back of the throat where it combines with hydrogen from a specially developed hydrogen sac above the lungs creating a devastating spiral of burning plasma capable of cutting through entire cities, other daikaiju, and even mountainsides with ease.

Nuclear Pulse: G-radiation is quickly expelled from several openings in the body in a large bubble and explodes, causing anything in the surrounding area to be reduced to mere atoms.

Tail Beam: Similar to the Atomic Breath, radiation is fired into the end of the tail and combines with hydrogen, creating a highly focused beam of destruction.

Fission Punch: G-radiation is sent to the fist during a punch and creates explosions and shockwaves upon impact.

More Age of Monsters is on the way soon, so I hope this repost with an updated format will raise your anticipation for the next entry!

[beardedmrbean]

The municipal councils in Kozloduy and Krivodol have become the first in Bulgaria to implement dual pricing for municipal services, taxes, and fees. Following the Euro Adoption Act, which took effect in August 2024, the two municipalities have updated 15 ordinances to reflect prices in both leva and euro. However, the euro-based prices will only be valid once Bulgaria officially joins the eurozone.

The changes are designed to inform the public and prevent speculative pricing ahead of the currency switch, as explained by the local administrations. These moves align with the National Plan for the Introduction of the Euro, which emphasizes the important role municipalities play in the transition due to their involvement in a variety of public services.

The deadline for municipalities to review and amend their regulations is set for February 24, 2025, and these changes are expected to be finalized by the end of the month, alongside the adoption of municipal budgets.

We remind you that Parvomay Municipality became one of the first to implement euro-related changes as part of the country’s preparation for euro adoption. The local council has approved amendments aligning with the Euro Adoption Act, converting taxes, fees, and fines into euros across 17 ordinances. Mayor Nikolay Mitkov assured that the conversion would maintain the current value of services, with adjustments rounding values in favor of residents. While some locals expressed skepticism and concern about potential price hikes, others are more optimistic, believing that wage adjustments can prevent price increases. Meanwhile, Plovdiv Municipality is also preparing for the euro transition, with updates to regulations and systems expected to be completed soon.