#Homunculus Res

[burlveneer-music]

Homunculus Res - Ecco l'impero dei doppi sensi - Canterbury-inspired prog rock from Italy

All tracks by Dario D'Alessandro except 04 (Davide Di Giovanni) Dario D'Alessandro: vocals - [R]hythmic guitar - keyboards - glockenspiel, bass on 01 Davide Di Giovanni: organ - piano - synth - bass on 04 Mauro Turdo: [L]ead guitar Daniele Di Giovanni: drums, percussion Daniele Crisci: bass James Strain: oud on 01 Massimo Giuntoli: keyboards on 02 Giorgio Trombino: alto sax, flute on 02 Dominique D'Avanzo: vocals, flute, recorder, clarinet on 04 Emanuele "Sterbus" Sterbini: vocals on 04 Marco Monterosso: guitar on 05 Alan Strawbridge: vocals on 08 Giovanni Parmeggiani: moog, polysix, fender rhodes on 08 Giuseppe Turdo: french and english horn, oboe, trumpet on 04 and 07 Dario Lo Cicero: panaulon, flute, bassoon, trombone, cristal baschet on 09 and 10 Mila Di Addario: tangent piano (09), angelica glass harp (10) Federico Cardaci: arp odyssey, oberheim, digitone, memotron on 10 Luciano Margorani; guitar on 10 Andrea Cusumano: whistle on 09 Enea Turdo: vocals on 10 Drums recorded by Marco Monterosso Mix and Master by James Strain Artwork by Dario D'Alessandro

[eufoniaradio]

S24.E48: bo2023: the prog edge

¡Feliz 2024! Happy 2024! First show of best of 2023. Lots of great progressive music. Had to select what fits in 40-42 min. Spotify List includes the rest of albums we consider the best...

Mucha música este año, mucha… ¡Demasiada! Fué difícil seguir el paso. Seleccionamos casi al azar lo que programaríamos en este primer programa de 2024. No tienen ningún orden y fué curioso que -como sí lo percibimos, dominaron los noruegos, agregando aquí italianos y polacos… Interesantísimo. Al final revisaremos si colocamos por tiempo a Overhead (desde Helsinki) o Ring Van Mobius.No hay ningún…

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Lust: Lost my melanin. Can’t have shit in Amestris.

I subscribe to the theory that in-universe this is Dante's doing. We should tear her to shreds for, well. Everything. But also for robbing Lust of her Ishbala-given skin tone.

Look at what could have been!

(Image edits courtesy of ground-muttmeg, click for two more edits)

[artificidel]

Something about them was off, she could sense it, see it. Everyones feelings were obvious, but not theirs. That alone intrigued Freyja, but the additional odd feeling they gave her added to it. They feel, non human, someone who-- by all accounts, should not exist. "You seem fun at gatherings, whats on your mind?"

Ephidel knew what they were on this ship. Despite every native being at odds with one another, the morph knew they could all stand under a banner against them.

But it was not the ostracizing that kept them away, that kept them alert, that kept them staring out over the horizon without rest. They had bigger concerns than the vermin that may band together against them.

The morph felt her approach far before she spoke, but there was no hostility in her aura.

They are silent for a moment, considering how to articular their answer.

"I do not know how long it has been since I've been upon Elibe, and what these rumors might mean for it. ... if it might signals my God's return."

Ephidel regards her, and for once appreciates the quiet company.

"Would he have me back...?"

They longed for purpose. For meaning. For love.

"Or have I become defective?"

[thatiswhy]

Op, this is a good and vivid description, but your poll is being skewed by you starting with the "I'm trying to describe the generic Hollywood white guy". If you want more objective results, may I recommend "I'm trying to describe a specific type of guy" and moving the reference to Hollywood below the poll?

I'm trying to describe the "generic white Hollywood guy" in a book where Hollywood doesn't exist.

The junior Englebert Wigglesworth was not a man Sophie would particularly enjoy looking at longer than she had to, not because he was an ugly man. The idea of calling him ugly was absurd. He had very regular features, so regular none of them could be commented on as standing out in any way. The most interesting thing that could be said was that he had cultivated the same close-cropped brown beard most men in their thirties who have been told they were handsome wore. But he had a face of a screaming nothingness, but a screaming nothingness that Sophie was extremely aware of what her expected reaction to him ought to be. She knew in an instant she would not be able to pick him out of a group of other well-groomed, boring men. He was exactly the sort of man who was called handsome without any appeal to any woman Sophie could imagine. And this distressed her, because she was aware of how men who looked like that expected to be treated by women who looked like her, and she wasn’t interested in participating in that particular song and dance. It goes without saying he was also white and clearly rich.

[cryptotheism]

What are some of the hottest topics in the conspiracy community now that Trump is president again? Did the whole scene cool off with his re-emergence, or are they still fixating on the Biden crime family type stuff?

The conspiracy world is boring right now. Everyone that spent the Biden administration talking about the deep state is endlessly glazing trump for a crumb of clout and caching in on petty grievances.

There's so much infighting. A lot of the organizations from the Limbaugh years are drying up and downsizing. They've been outcompeted by the rising trend of like, conservative YouTubers and tiktokera who post anti-woke ragebait.

Low-key I'm expecting the conspiracy world to be boring for the next like, 18 months. Eventually some 35 year old progressive liberal is gonna primary an 85 year old cancer homunculus center liberal, and they're gonna be cast as Woke Millennial Hitler or some shit.

[homunculus-argument]

Hi Mr homunculus!

Been seeing your mothgoth projects over my dash and I love the idea/theme sm!

Been recently liking cicadas and thinking of doing the same thing.

What are your top 5 pieces of advice you'd give to past-you at the start of the project?

Any advice for me?

What has been your best/worst/most memorable idea/plan or piece you've made?

My main advice is

The first attempt is going to look bad. Do not expect that one to go right. You'll do it wrong, but you gotta do it wrong first before you figure out how to do it right. You can take your things apart and re-make them for as many times as you want until the fabric falls apart, as many times as it takes for you to be satisfied with it.

Cultivate before you curate. When you first start developing your own style, don't try to be picky. Gather everything that you might like - this is where thrift shopping becomes vital, shopping used secondhand clothes is cheaper than buying new, and nowhere near as wasteful. On top of that, if you end up not liking something, back to the flea market it goes. No gain, no loss.

Everything is going to look bad until it doesn't. Looking like shit is a normal part of the process, you just gotta trust that it's going to become something, and keep working until it's done.

You own your tools and materials and can do whatever you want forever. Don't hesitate to break something apart if you don't like it and don't use it. Take apart jewellery that you don't wear and use it for parts for something more fun. Grab a seam ripper and take the sleeves off a t-shirt that's otherwise great if it weren't for the sleeves. Go apeshit.

Don't try to sew leather like it's fabric. Neither of you will enjoy that.

My worst idea is probably the one I am currently working on - trying to fix my shoes at home - but I am trying to trust the process and simply assuming that it's going to be fine and work out in the end.

[lightningant]

Aurelius Dumbledore (AKA Credence Barebone) & Voldemort Conspiracy Theory

I'm full of compressed energy so I have to write to you my thoughts on this topic, of which I have many.

So in my fanon I write Aurelius as Tom's doomed child therapist because I find Tom's fraught relationship with the concept of parentage irresistible and I simply have to kick him again, but I actually have legitimate non-fanfic-toy-playing reasons to believe the Fantastic Beasts movies are the way they are with the character focus they have because Aurelius/Credence is supposed to have significant meaning to Tom.

Consider:

Newt Scamander exists to know about obscurials and to be an outside POV to this insane drama. It was just impossible to notice this because the movies are terrible. These films are primarily about the incredibly super special Credence Barebone being the most specialist boy. Remember this!

Voldemort's flight ability is something no one has invented before and completely unheard of, by transforming his body. He turns it into primarily smoke. By reproducing an obscurus transformation, he has achieved flight. Which he then teaches Snape.

Gellert Grindelwald posits an enemy of his would be killed by an obscurial, kickstarting his obsession with them. He knows what an obscurial looks like because he saw Ariana transform. We know for a fact Dumbledore was not killed by an obscurial; he was killed by Snape. Who then turned into a smoke blot and flew away.

Can we get a pic of how Grindelwald styles Aurelius after he gets his hands on him. Yeah that's excellent thank you

Voldemort specifically seeks out Nagini, Aurelius' first girlfriend. They broke up when he joined Grindelwald; this is a connection to Aurelius more than anyone else.

We can presume - because she likely exists in the text as an excuse for Dumbledore to know passable parseltongue - Aurelius probably knows parseltongue too. Because she's his snake girlfriend. Obviously he wants to be able to communicate with snake GF, especially with a concrete threat of her losing her humanity.

We know Tom pined for his secret super special pureblood daddy before he found out about the Gaunts. At the time, he assumed Tom Riddle Sr. was a wizard. He assumed that Merope died because she must not have had magic to save her. He must have found out very quickly there is no Tom Riddle in the wizarding registrar; he must be American, or European, surely...?

Voldemort is a self-soother and a magical thinker. If he was afraid of Dumbledore he'd treat him with similar obsession to how he treats the brother wands. I posit he is simply loathe to interact with Dumbledore and goes out of his way to avoid direct contact. And why...?

Possible conclusions:

When Tom was making conspiracy theories about who daddy was, he was sure it must be Aurelius - an unfathomably powerful ally of Grindelwald who could speak to snakes and went into hiding -because this idea was mind-numbingly cool to his beautiful 15-year-old brain. Tom's name is only plain and ordinary because it's an alias! This is actually the most likely thing, and the funniest, and the saddest. I don't think he was capable of looking into where he "went into hiding", because he wouldn't be able to digest Aurelius retired at twenty in the countryside to treat his if-not-terminal-then-at-least-chronic illness and preferred it that way.

But even so, Tom frequents the Hog's Head! It was possible for him to meet a surviving Aurelius, and had the above delusion of grandeur; an expectation that Aurelius had abandoned a doomed and ill-advised dark lord campaign, and Tom's campaign would be neither doomed or ill-advised. I like to think he promptly dies, giving Tom the rare double-mommy-daddy-issue whammy. If your epic mary sue momdad dies because of his magic, then what now...?

Am I the problem? No. It's the muggles who are wrong.

This implies he had passionate fantasies about Nagini being mommy. Really puts the Erm.... in Snake Venom Homunculus Baby

The reason he is so loathe to be near Albus is because Albus is unafraid to hammer home that love was what kept Aurelius alive, that power is what killed Aurelius, and it was cringe and fail of Tom to assume he was destined to be his secret illegitimate son on the metric of that power.

Albus "Secret Keeper" Dumbledore of course does not at any point explain the context of where Aurelius went after he stopped being an elite dark lord assassin, so Tom just feels like Dumbledore is being an asshole to him and accusing him of being incapable of love for no reason. Sitcom-esque!

I'm never wrong and my visions are beautiful. Thank you.

[kradogsrats]

Okay, so: I have a theory.

Aaravos doesn't know everything. (That's not the theory.) If he knew in exact detail how everything would play out, that would undermine the story's overall central theme that the world (destiny) can be changed. Most of his actual advantage is millennia of observing mortal behavior—he's very, very good at predicting how elves and humans will react when put in situations. He can also, however, be surprised.

Now, that isn't to say he doesn't definitely have some degree of cosmic foresight/timeblindness. (That's also not the theory.) However, even the Cosmic Council in its entirety doesn't seem to necessarily see things in detail, since they obviously see "humans gaining primal magic starts the spiral into chaos" but not "because you then execute a child, prompting her father to personally oversee that spiral." So when Aaravos says things like this:

I don't think he necessarily knows exactly what role Claudia will play, besides that she is important—even necessary—to his plan. It would be chef's kiss irony if what he's actually seeing is that she will become important to him, personally. (That is also not the theory. I'm getting there.)

Despite his general foresight Aaravos can be surprised, and he's specifically surprised by Rayla making a second attempt at killing Viren despite being disarmed, sacrificing herself to stop him. So: did he know Viren was going to die, just not at that moment? Did he prepare a multi-year Worm Plan specifically to resurrect Viren? Or was there another purpose he had in mind?

This isn't the theory, either, but: I do think the plan from the beginning was for The Worm to, uh... pupate(?) into Sir Sparklepuff, and then to lead Viren (and Claudia) to the other archdragons and the clues to Aaravos's prison (or at least the one clue they actually need). The Worm begins to grow aggressively right as/after Aaravos and Viren corrupt the Sunforge, like it's preparing for an imminent new stage. I suspect that after hatching and once in proximity to the prison, Aaravos had every intent to use Sir Sparklepuff in some way to re-manifest in the world. After all, he's tied by blood to Aaravos just as much as he is to Viren—if he can be used to "restore [Viren's] life and future," there's no reason he can't serve the same purpose for Aaravos.

Of course, that all gets derailed, and instead we wind up where we wind up, which is with Aaravos being surprised:

He's surprised enough that, if it isn't in itself responsible for his hold on Avizandum weakening enough to be broken, he's at least distracted enough to be ambushed and physically overpowered. Someone has asked the "what's Sir Sparklepuff's unfinished business?" question, but I don't think that's actually what's at play, here.

Because this, finally, is my theory: Aaravos is surprised because this creature, this little homunculus puppet made a living battery, isn't supposed to have a soul.

He shouldn't be there at all—in the In-Between, or anywhere else. The essence put into him when the chrysalis was opened gives him a rudimentary consciousness, but if there was even enough there to persist, it should have been consumed to finalize Viren's resurrection. Aaravos is looking at something that should be impossible, and yet here it is.

Which makes me wonder... I had kind of dismissed the fairly extreme difference between the symbol for infantis sanguine in Aaravos's book and what is shown after the fact:

Like, that's a lot to draw in the sand. Maybe what's in the book is actually a more functional diagram or instructions of some kind, and Claudia has drawn the actual functional part?

However, because the rune Claudia has drawn is the same as the one on the cursed coins, I have to question. The assumption, I think, has been that Aaravos instructed Claudia in the infantis sanguine ritual to save Viren. I took that for granted because a) it makes sense, and b) it's funny to imagine Claudia's unhinged little "Blood of Child" giggle in s6e1 as "unfortunately for both of us, I do know you fucked the sparkly elf." However, depending on how quickly Callum and the others depart for Katolis, Aaravos is potentially moving away fairly quickly—maybe not so quickly that he can't contact Claudia and give her the ritual before being cut off, but still.

We also know Claudia knows about the cursed coins, including a good grasp of what they entail:

It's not clear if she understands it in the way Lujanne explains, with the coins containing only a piece of the soul and the rest being trapped elsewhere, in the In-Between:

Aaravos may have given her a different ritual (maybe infantis sanguine itself can only be self-targeted) that works more like that. Maybe, if Sir Sparklepuff had enough of a soul, only part of it was enough to anchor/revitalize Viren (essentially "stored" in him as the coin) and the rest went to languish in the In-Between.

Anyway, if Sir Sparklepuff is not meant to have a soul, but does... that raises some interesting possibilities, both thematically (depersonalization/what is a monster) and narratively. What if Sir Sparklepuff needs his soul completed to pass on, like Rayla's parents? Could he be after a piece of Aaravos's? Or, what if Sir Sparklepuff didn't have enough of a soul, but what he had entered the In-Between rather than being consumed because it was actually a piece of Claudia's that broke off to save Viren?

idek man this is just the shit I think about like constantly

[the-catmans-offical-2]

The offical art when it comes to Ed and Wrath are few and far between. However, there's some things I've noticed and would like to share!

Wrath, as a human, would have blue eyes - while this is something we pretty much already knew just by watching eps 28 through 30, if you look at Ed's eye color then you'll realize that they're very close to being inverses of each other!

Also Wrath is cool colors (Blues and greens, blacks and purples) whereas Ed is warm colors (Yellows and reds, whites and oranges). I think that's another contrast or inverse between them to show who they are as characters - with Wrath being a homunculus he is colder colors like the tones of a dead body or just generally not something alive, while Ed has warmer colors like a living human would.

There's more differences between them! Wrath's iris shape is (in the picture and originally) more circular than Ed's - who's is more ovular. Wrath also has slightly larger eyes than Ed, giving him a bit of more childlike appearance though his facial shape keeps him appearing as though he is of similar age to Ed. (I remember reading somewhere once, and please correct me if I am wrong but I personally believe this greatly, that Wrath was made with the goal kept in mind that he'd be an opponent to Ed of similar age and similar in other ways as well.) Wrath also has sharp teeth whilst Ed has dull flat ones - oddly enough Wrath's ears are pointed slightly and Ed's ears are rounded, furthermore giving the visual feel that Wrath isn't human. He must appear rather uncanny to Edward or to any human - same with the homunculi in general - because he looks human but with subtle things that make him... Off.

Wrath is all smilely too, whereas Ed looks more serious or weary; Showing off Wrath's inital innocence (which stays there throughout the series until he was betrayed by Dante and Envy, and I will fight anyone on that) and Ed's lingering distrust for Wrath. Fun fact, in CoS he seems to trust Wrath more even though the two never see each other again. Oh, they're gonna be the end of me. ED FUCKING ACTED LIKE HE KNEW WHAT WRATH WOULD WANT, which leads me to believe they had a talk or just SOMETHING during ep 51 that was cut out.

I have no idea what this image is from so please let me know if anyone knows! I've been curious for a while.

Anyway, Wrath:) He's poking out from behind Ed, and there's more things to point out between them!

Wrath is wearing dark clothes whereas Ed's wearing light ones. Like usual, Wrath's hair is down and messy while Ed's is up and neat. This is the offical art that made me realize that Ed has longer, thinner eyebrows than Wrath - who has thicker ones!

Also Wrath seems to be staring directly at Ed, but I personally can't read his expression as anything? Maybe curiosity? I'm not good with reading facial expressions lmao.

I only added this one bc WRATH LOOKS SO SILLY WHO THE FUCK PUT HIM IN A LIL SUIT??? HOW THE FUCK DID SOMEONE PUT HIM IN A SUIT???

I'm looking for a clearer image for this so I may update this post at some point to put the clearer one there if I find it!

Anyway so Wrath and Edward are standing back to back. They have a slight height difference with Wrath as the shorter of the two (I bet Ed is very happy/j)

Ed's expression is more angry or solem while Wrath's is a grin - but both can be said to look angry I'd think.

They both have a hand on their hip (Ed's in his pocket but Wrath doesn't have pockets, L) and the opposite arm resting more languidly at their side. They're both standing straight, Ed's head is tilted slightly downward while Wrath's is tilted up - no one else is shown standing back to back. Only Wrath any Ed. Al is there, standing beside Ed, but Gluttony is standing with his side to Alphonse, and Lust is more off to the side and facing the others rather than with her back to anyone. I think it is to further show that Ed and Wrath are such parallels (and Lust is standing a little to the side, possibly showing how she isn't really obeying anyone but herself - showing how she betrayed Dante and went to help Ed get Al back in exchange for becoming human again; But we know how that played out..)

I'm not really gonna talk about these here, as one of them is simply a scene redraw, and they're more Izumi focused if you look at them - with Izumi appearing somber while Ed looks weary or even fearful, and Wrath is just.. Being a kid. Running and flipping, and then in the redraw fighting Ed and Al.

The same could be said about these!! They aren't really interacting - in the first image Wrath is asleep at a table with the other homunculi, and in the second he does appear to be staring at Ed; But again Ed isn't focused on him.

Probably some of the ONLY FUCKING COS OFFICAL ART I HAVE FOUND with Wrath in it. Wrath and Ed are facing opposite of each other. No one, other than Wrath in the image, is fully facing at a side profile - which at first I thought represented how he had died, but Alfons is there and so is Eckhart.

Ed looks wistful, not angry but not happy. Sad perhaps, which is what he seems to be a lot in CoS. But Wrath, he looks down right angry. Yelling maybe? His mouth is opened wide and showing his sharp teeth, his visable eyebrow furrowed, he looks dirty and tired. Clearly this is during his fight with Gluttony, or. OR, this is just showing what Edward last remembers of Wrath. An angry boy always yelling and violent, but also determined and weak - and this fucks me up because out of EVERYONE in the image, only Wrath is the one Ed never sees again. Except like.. Riza but this aint about her. I love that they're seperated by the margin, representing the Gate kinda - Armestrian characters on one side, 'our world' characters on the other.

Again, this isn't really Ed and Wrath in particular. But I want you all to really look at Wrath. He's licking his Ed arm. In a similar fashion Dante does to Lyra's arm after possessing her body, and basically asking Hoenhiem to.. Yk, fuck. While I definitely don't think Wrath is doing it out of sexual desire or reason (although i do not know his intention), I do believe he's doing it to mimick or copy Dante. Wrath could've seen that she liked Hoenhiem, which is putting it lightly but for the sake of the sake I'll just say she liked him, and then copied her by licking said limb out of liking Ed or desiring his body/limbs. To become human.

Also jfc Envy is buff, go back to being a twink you loser.

Uhh I dunno, I just rambled a lil. Maybe I'll make another post with this? Maybe not, but this is what you get for now!! Use my ask box if you have any questions! :)

[star-synth]

Re-vamped my Were-Bat/Homunculus Uzi design!

If you like my work, consider supporting me further! Commissions available on Kofi!

[jimkinnz]

homunculus facts¡

while they do have an extensive natural history explaining their existence' giraffes were finalized with alchemy•

like' if there was no alchemy' giraffes would look different•

at least somewhat•

they,re not homunculi though• they,re ruminants in infraorder pecora•

as a sidenote' there are several varieties of homunculi that also have a 4 chambered stomach and ossicones• but that,s convergence•

[andtheyreonfire]

"came back wrong" but with g/t. bringing someone back to life--or finding someone you thought long dead--but in a far different form. i need the desperation in either party not recognizing the other. the fear that comes from realizing this isn't the person you lost, either because they're too massive to be anything but monstrous or too tiny to be anything but inhuman. i need the conflict that comes from trying to figure this out, or from accepting the person you've lost is forever changed.

on the giant side, like--imagine watching someone you know being frankensteined back to life, only the "ideal form" the team of scientists have chosen is impossibly massive. in some fantasy setting, imagine finding a lost party member claimed and given "new life" by some natural spirit. but--be they claimed by the fae, an odd type of infection, or the will of the forest itself--any humanity has been completely stolen from them, including their new, towering size. imagine a ritual to bring a loved one back gone wrong as they are transported back in an inhuman state--or you are transported to the realm of the spirits, and are given a painful awakening of the true scale of what lies outside our world. from the giant's perspective--either from a fantastical scenario or just an i-died-and-came-back-with-size-shifting-powers thing--they're either pleading with the person grieving for them, going hey, look at me, i'm here, i haven't changed at all, please look up. or, they're simply wondering why this tiny, chittering thing at their feet is so adamant that they know them, if they regard them peacefully at all.

on the tiny's side, there's perhaps even more of a sense of loss, as the revived is faced with a loss of power. someone's soul could be shucked into a homunculus doll, brought back either at the request of a loved one, or simply cursed into this form. maybe said loved one doesn't even recognize them, simply curious as to why this shop has a perfect replica of their deceased on a dusty shelf. some clause could exist for ripping people's soul from the beyond, one that forces any revived person into a smaller, weaker form. be it the laws of balance, the size of a sacrifice/summoning circle, or any other magical mishap, the necromanced is left with all the size and life of a broken action figure. in some tamer scenario, the only heartbreaking change could be the revived's own fear. it doesn't matter if they're not physically a doll, or if their soul is bound to an object. they don't want to be manipulated. there's a terror in suddenly having power, losing your life, and coming back with absolutely nothing. their loved one simply wants them to stop looking at them as if they'll harm their re-gifted life.

be it an actual necromancy, or just a shift or transformation, give me the fear of change. the loss of identity. an external threat exacerbating an internal. fear of power, or lack thereof. yeagh

[greenplantlizard]

kamen rider taisen!!!

it begins

i have been warned about this one

zawame city is not how i left it

man the random camera angles are IMMEDIATE in this one

oh hi kabuto

rip kamen rider stronger

i don't think they should give fourze this many lines when it's clearly not him

hello badan again

doing an underground world when you had evil akumaizer 3 show up last year is a choice

i cannot wait to find out how things got to this point

rip kamen rider j again

an underground world? well you d i d have an evil akumaizer 3 last year

kouta you say yggdrasil might be involved like they're responsible for the underground world,, to which i say,,,,,, what?

there is a child

oh wow child with amnesia and mysterious powers never seen this one before

slow introduction

introducing hongo like that is hilarious to me

gotta love someone who has clearly not seen gaim fitting the gaim cast into established archetypes they don't sit comfortably in

porcupine-roid sporting a redesign, for some reason tiger-roid isn't?

like, porcupine-roid is important to zx magazine lore iirc, but like tiger-roid is the most prominent monster from the tv special...? eh i dunno

always find it funny that shiomaneking is always there

oh hi fifteen

ok pretty cool transformation sequence

so he's decade but gaim gimmick and evil

and charmless

hi decade

small narutaki

oh so you don't like shocker anymore

showa riders and heisei riders have mixed before,,,, though???

someone has replaced shotaro with some kind of homunculus

faiz is in this

i guess

kaito getting massacred out here (unfunny comedy scenes)

if this guy's kamen rider x i actually do like his speech about children in relation to his character (re: getting judo flipped by his shitty dad)

this next scene will now take place in the piss dimension

one day this movie will find a focus

more of this movie has been devoted to kaixand than i expected

not even how that happened in the series

like, bro, you weren't even there for your own trauma, what

damn kid you're such a flake you're not even present in the real events around your own traumatic flashback

im in hysterics why did they D O that

HE WASN'T EVEN T H E R E

what a reach

what a ballsy move

i may never be over it

i look up and kamen rider x is flopping around my screen

bit like this movie

this movie is so,,,, lifeless

much like this CHILD-

"badan is not an underground empire" then why is it called UNDERGROUND EMPIRE BADAN????

this is goriwashigin's favourite movie

and then he fifteened all over the place

HELLO KAMEN RIDERS BLACK AND BLACK RX WHO ARE BOTH THE SAME PERSON, INEXPLICABLY TIME TRAVELLING AGAIN I SEE????

if the showa riders would explain why they're assholes now this would be a,,,, watch

where's philip

this is marvel movies to me

"he wanted to clear things up so badly that he gained the power to reverse things"

what

gaim arms feels redundant doesn't it?

it's still going

we have finally reached the beginning of the movie

hello Sentai villains...???

shadow line can time travel apparently

if there's one thing we can thank this movie for, it's annoying powerscalers

i feel like two movies are trying to have their third act simultaneously

ok so that explanation was bullshit

desire to revive the dead? like,,,,,, that's just wizard bro

not even that after the last crossover movie

oh boy it's forced conflict via making a bunch of characters into assholes time!!! must be a taisen movie

you ever just hit someone so hard they turn into a lockseed for... some reason...?

that reverse machine could be more mega

oh i was wondering where zx was

considering badan are his villains and all

i mean you've been standing in front of the meta reverse machine the whole movie but go off i guess

oh THERE'S the mega in your reverse machine

oh wow it was ichigo's plan all along? just like in the first super hero taisen

where it also sucked

wait den-o didn't even die of showa rider how did he-?

and then they kamen ridered all over the place

oh there's a t-rex now

KYORYUGERS??????????

YOUR SHOW ISN'T EVEN AIRING ANYMORE IS IT?????

HELLO????

where did they go

i dont know if mitchy would say that

hello toQger

this is... still going

what is this movie about

i feel like i think it knows but it doesn't

not how faiz blaster works but ok

and now the kyoryugers are a train

den-o already was a train

how is this STILL GOINGGGG

who the fuck even was this guy anyway

god we're so close to the end

what

END I AM BEGGING YOU END

WHY ARE WE STILL GOING

we have reached the vote now portion

narratortaki

ok that's nice and all but can the movie end please please do not tell me the version im watching contains both endings please please

narutaki... who the fuck are you...

OH THANK GOD THIS VERSION DIDN'T HAVE THE SECOND VERSION OF THE ENDING AS WELL HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWFUL

"According to Kohei Murakami, when he asked director Takayuki Shibasaki regarding the change, he was informed that that an "evil spirit" had taken on the form of Kusaka and it caused Takumi to misremember the circumstances regarding his death" - Riderwiki

[dross-the-fish]

re: thieves in the manor, who is the most dangerous to run into? Adam, Edward or Erik?

Of the three the 8 foot homunculus is actually the least dangerous, it's the 5'2" Scottsman you should be the most afraid of. Erik might kill you but he'll be quick about it and is more likely to let his traps take care of you than directly get his hands dirty. If somehow you miss all the traps he'll dispatch you as quietly and cleanly as he can. You might not even realize he got you. Adam will give you a warning, just the one, and he will allow you to leave. Now, If you ignore that warning continue to try to break into a mansion that's being guarded by an undead giant then that's on you. You deserve what you get. He's going to hurl you back over the garden wall as hard as he can.

Edward is just waiting for someone to break in. He is BEGGING for it because he wants an excuse to go apeshit on someone. He's so bored, he's been cooped up forever. Watson doesn't even let him keep drugs and liquor in the house anymore. He'll stalk the thief, drag it out, mess with them a little. Then he's knocking them out and hauling them to the lab to play with them for awhile and let out some of his pent up frustrations.

[whump-card]

Undertaking Alchemy: Chapter 9: Instructions Unclear

CW: hand injury

Previous, Next, Masterlist

Read on Ao3!

~~~

Ailen rested only for as long as he felt he absolutely had to before forcing his body to move. Grunting with pain and effort, he rose to his feet. His vision grayed dangerously, but soon resolved. He stumbled to the sink, Marbles following close behind. The sight that met him in the mirror was startling. His left eye was densely bloodshot, the pupil blown wide; veins of black, charcoal against his umber skin, snaked down his cheek and across his temple into his hairline.

Performing necromancy – even a failed attempt – had marked him, perhaps permanently.

Everyone would know.

Mila would protect him.

He tore his gaze away from the gaunt specter in the mirror and bent to splash cold water on his face.

The mistake he’d made in the ritual was discovered eventually. He started by going over every detail – starting with the circle, the measurements, the thickness of the lines, even the color of the chalk (was it white? Or incorrectly ivory?). The placement of the reagents was next. Yes, the lavender simply had to be at the eastern point, and the purified water at the left foot of the pentagon.

Marbles followed him all the while, appearing to listen intently as he muttered aloud and read and re-read his own notes, then read and re-read the source texts. It felt good for Ailen to have something of a lab partner – he posed questions to Marbles, asked if things made sense, and even in the resulting silence he found some clarity.

Finally, the makeup of the reagents was tested. Yes, the candles were pure beeswax, the crystals of salt were clear. At last, Ailen discovered the diluted spirit of sulcure. The simplicity of this mistake brought him great joy. He could try again. He would try again.

He was babbling his discovery to Marbles when the homunculus caught his arm.

“It’s so simple, I can’t believe I didn’t check that, I was just – what, what is it?”

Marbles stepped in front of him, pressing its hands together and resting its cheek on them to mime sleeping. Then it pointed to the duvet on the floor.

“Marbles, I can’t,” Ailen said, understanding right away what the homunculus was driving at, “I can’t sleep, I have to finish this, I have to go home.”

Marbles shook its head vigorously and placed its hands on Ailen’s shoulders, gently steering him backwards towards the duvet.

“Marbles,” Ailen took on a firmer tone, shaking off the guiding hands, “I need to do this.”

Marbles slumped a little, perhaps an expression of disappointment, but stepped aside. Ailen returned to work.

The sun was rising by the time Ailen had the ritual set up once more. Golden shafts of light rippled through the warped glass and spread across the chalk lines, the brass bowls of liquid, the crystals, the candles. It created a discordant atmosphere; the gentle, life-bringing touch of the sun against the tools assembled to cheat death.

The second attempt began much like the first. When Ailen started the incantation, dark clouds moved in to steal away the sunlight. The candles flared. Cold rose from the floor, biting Ailen’s raised fingers and pawing at his clothes. The rushing, internal and external, the living heartbeat of Ailen and the thrum of the souls beyond, rose in orchestra. Ailen’s voice never wavered, strong and determined. Undead forces beat at the walls of his magic circle, but this time, nothing gave way, nothing broke; instead, energy began to gather within. Wintergreen lighting snapped and crackled along the chalk lines and over Edelgard’s body; the corpse jolted, then its back arched off the floor; Ailen’s smile came through in his voice, he was doing something, he had proven himself capable once more, he would succeed this time.

A small controlled pinpoint opened; not the dam breaking of the previous attempt, rather a door calmly opening for a welcome guest. A magenta light, gossamer and fragile, slithered through like a ribbon from a conjurer's sleeve, snaking down from directly above towards the body. It ballooned, opened like a parachute, and settled down like a shroud over Edelgard before vanishing. Ailen never ceased chanting, the words the only control he had in the moment, his ability to make them clear, and loud, and correct. His left hand, raised in the air, was numb. He didn’t look at it, his eyes fixed on his written spell, occasionally flicking up towards the corpse.

A great creaking groan rose up; the magic circle on the floor shimmered, then leapt to life. It peeled itself off the floor and flung its white chalk lines around Edelgard, flailing loose and chaotic before snapping tight, wrapping around his limbs and sinking into his skin, melding with him.

Ailen did not hear, but had the sensation of hearing a loud noise; he did not see, but he felt a light. Then, silence, and dimness, and a deep overwhelming normalcy as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the room now that the candles had gone out. He breathed in dust, and smoke, and the familiar worldly smell of the laboratory that he’d spent so long trapped in. The silence was heavy, but not absolute; the castle creaked, in its familiar way, and Ailen breathed, and his heart pounded in his ears.

The sun started to peek through the clouds.

Ailen fell to his knees, catching himself on his hands. His left was entirely numb, and when he lifted it to look in the growing light the very tips of his fingers were black, dead black, frostbitten beyond recovery. He touched them with his right, and found them ice cold. Cradling his frozen hand to his chest, he looked up towards the body.

Edelgard lay still. The white lines of the magic circle traced across his face and his hands, and certainly the rest of his skin under his clothes.

Ailen swallowed, his throat painfully dry, his lips cracked. Nothing had gone wrong. That had to mean all had gone right.

“Rise,” Ailen said.

The body moved.

Slowly, mechanically, it sat up. It bent its legs, shifted forward, and rose to its feet, where it stopped. Waiting.

Ailen laughed.

It burst out of him, joyous and triumphant, and he scrambled to his feet, rushing to stand in front of the undead wizard. It stared blankly out over Ailen’s head.

“Teleport!” he gasped, “Can you teleport me, to Axomford, yes or no?”

In response, the undead wizard reached out and clamped a hand around Ailen’s upper arm. He yelped, attempting to twist away. The room around them started to warp and bend.

“No,” Ailen shouted, struggling against the undead’s grasp, “Wait, no, not yet, I need – Marbles!” he called, looking around wildly. He spotted Marbles and reached out. “Marbles, take my hand! Take it!”

Marbles stumbled forward, but the room was already spinning and fading.

“Marbles!” Ailen screamed.

Even as Marbles ran towards him, Ailen and the undead wizard were moving away, the room around them arcing and condensing into a pinpoint before vanishing entirely, leaving them floating in starry black. Ailen felt a deep pull on him, and kind of gravity that he had only felt when playing on a set of swings as a child, a yanking, a drag. An orb blew open below his flailing feet, ballooning up around them from unrecognizable distorted shapes into familiar surroundings.

Axomford market, in the town square. Cold, cloudy, snowing lightly, but still just as busy as any early morning: merchant stalls lined up shoulder to shoulder, throngs of people crowding the most popular vendors, children running amok, stray cats weaving between legs and wheedling for scraps, town guards cracking jokes, a nobleman cutting through on horseback. The whole scene was framed by the surrounding buildings, tall rows forming a square, mansard roofs occasionally broken by a spire or smoking chimney.

Ailen had only a moment to take it in before his stomach revolted at the rough handling by teleportation magic. The undead wizard released him, and he spun away to spew empty bile onto the cobblestones. Disoriented and frantic, he grabbed at the wizard’s robes.

“Take me back,” Ailen choked out, “Take me back, I need Marbles, take me back to the castle, now!”

Someone screamed. Ailen became aware of a growing negative space around him and the undead wizard – who looked very, very dead in the broad light of day.

“Castle Dunswoll,” he babbled, not taking his eyes off the undead creature’s impassive face, its sagging eyes, “Take me back, take me back now!”

Shouts and murmurs rose up around him.

“Mr. Maivon?”

“That’s Ailen!”

“Undead! Monster!”

“Stand back, everyone!”

“Please,” Ailen begged, “Take me back, take me back!”

There was an ear-splitting crack.Ailen stared uncomprehendingly at the bullet hole in Edelgard’s forehead. The undead wizard – one arm half raised as if to take hold of Ailen again – crumpled to the ground. Beyond it stood a guardsman, smoking pistol raised, a look of surprise on his face.

“I… I did it!” he exclaimed, “I killed an undead!”

“NO!” shrieked Ailen, “No, no, no, no!” he fell upon Edelgard’s body, shaking it, “We left Marbles behind, we have to go back, Marbles!”

“Mr. Maivon,” a gruff voice accompanied a heavy hand on Ailen’s shoulder, “Let’s not make a scene.”

Ailen twisted to look up at Captain Luther, of the guard. A familiar face, which cringed back subtly at the sight of Ailen’s.

“Luther,” gasped Ailen, “Luther, you have to help me! I was in a castle, Castle Dunswoll, and I left behind a friend, I need to get back-”

“Slow down now, Mr. Maivon,” Luther said firmly, tightening the grip on Ailen’s shoulder, “You’re scaring everyone.”

“I…” Ailen looked around, seeing countless faces, many familiar, looking on in horror.

“Let’s get you down to the guardhouse, aye? You can tell us the whole story.”

“M-Mila!” Ailen cried out, jumping to staggering feet, “You have to fetch Mila.”

“We will, we’ll fetch you Mila, and a healer, and a… whoever else you need.” As he spoke, Luther ushered Ailen away from the body and through the crowd, which parted like a frightened school of fish around a shark.

Familiar snowy streets blurred together as Ailen was ferried along by Luther and a growing shadow of more guards.

“What day is it?” Ailen asked weakly, “I haven’t had a calendar…”

“December 13th,” Luther replied.

“Oh, God,” Ailen sobbed, “It was October…” Tears rolled down his cheeks and he swiped at them with his good hand – but when he glanced down he saw blood on his fingers, not saltwater. He whimpered with fear.

“Hold on, Mr. Maivon,” Luther soothed, “We’re almost there.”

They reached the guardhouse, a brick station with gothic arches and narrow windows. It was hot inside, radiators groaning and hissing, and Ailen’s left hand started to prickle painfully as he was marched down tiled corridors. The journey ended in a small meeting room with a narrowed barred window, empty except for a table and chairs. Captain Luther clicked on the electric lights, and sat Ailen down. Guards hovered in the doorway, watching.

“Stay right here, Mr. Maivon,” Luther said, “Someone will be with you shortly.”

“You’ll tell Mila I’m here?” Ailen said, his voice cracking.

Luther hesitated, but nodded.

“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it that she knows.”

“Thank you,” Ailen whispered.

Luther left, closing the door behind him.

Ailen’s heavy breath was loud in the silence. His whole body shook, tremors running down his spine and out his limbs. His teeth chattered, even in the warmth of the small room. Melted snow was slowly seeping through his thin shoes. He clutched his left hand to his chest as it ached and stung.

Marbles.

He shut his eyes, more bloody tears leaking out and pattering onto his aproned lap. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? How could he have left Marbles behind?

But Ailen was home. He sobbed with relief. He was home, and safe, and Mila would be here soon.

~~~

“Mr. Maivon? Mr. Maivon.”

Ailen jolted awake, lifting his head from the table and blinking up hazily at the woman standing over him.

It wasn’t Mila.

This woman had an elegant, narrow face, and a neutral, business-like gaze. She wore a gray jacket over a matching bell skirt, her hair in a soft bun.

“Mr. Maivon, I’m Mrs. Radcliffe. I’ve been assigned to your counsel.”

“Counsel?” Ailen echoed.

Mrs. Radcliffe offered a sheet of paper.

“You’re being charged with necromancy in the second degree.”

“What?” Ailen couldn’t find any other words. Of course he’d expected the likelihood of needing to explain his resort to necromancy to the law – but as a respected local business owner he’d assumed he’d get a chance to do so before being charged with anything.

When Ailen didn’t take the offered paper, Mrs. Radcliffe laid it on the table.

“It’s a very cut-and-dry accusation, you bear the marks and appeared before many witnesses with an undead. I’d advise you to plead guilty and beg for leniency.”

Ailen stared at the sheet of paper, words swimming in his eyes.

“I need to talk to Mila,” he whispered.

“For the safety of the public, you are not allowed visitors. Your hearing is tomorrow morning. Do you have any questions for me?” Nothing about her tone was cruel, it was simply business to her.

“I…” Ailen shook his head, “I was kidnapped.”

“If you have a report to file, you can do that after your hearing.”

“But I… I had no choice…”

“Everyone has a choice,” she said plainly, “You chose to violate the natural law. I’m afraid, in this case, there is no escaping the consequences. If you have no questions, I must go.”

Ailen was tongue-tied, completely disoriented.

“What do I do?” he whispered.

“As I said,” Mrs. Radcliffe replied, “Plead guilty. Beg for mercy. I wish you luck.”

She bobbed a curtsy, and exited without another word. Ailen stared after her, his breath coming in short gasps. He couldn’t process what had just happened.

The door opened again; a guardsman entered, bearing a pair of cuffs.

“I’m to take you to a holding cell, sir. Hands, please.”

At a loss for what else to do, Ailen raised his hands; but doing so sent an awful spike of pain through his left. Ailen winced and hissed. His fingers were swollen and discolored.

“Captain Luther said he’d bring a healer,” he said quickly as the guard approached, “Did he?”

The guard snapped the manacles closed over Ailen’s wrists.

“No healer in town who would see a necromancer. Up you get, take your papers.” He grabbed Ailen’s upper arm and pulled the alchemist to his feet. Ailen stumbled, vision going spotty.

“I haven’t eaten…” he gasped, remembering to snatch up the paper in his good hand.

The guard yanked him forward.

“You’ll get something tomorrow morning. Move along.”

Helpless, Ailen followed out into the hall, the grip on his arm bruisingly tight. He stared bewildered at the people they passed, then spotted Captain Luther up ahead, walking towards them.

“Captain Luther!” he called, “May I speak with you a moment?”

Luther didn’t lift his eyes from the report he was looking at – he just kept walking.

“Captain Luther?” Ailen called again, eyes going wide. Before he knew it, they were passing each other, and Luther hadn’t spared him so much as a glance. “Captain Luther? Captain Luther!” Ailen’s voice rose into a desperate shriek as he struggled against the hold of the guard – but the man’s grip was strong, and the Captain disappeared around a corner. Ailen sobbed; the guardsman didn’t say a word.

They passed a mirror at a quick pace, but Ailen still caught a glimpse of himself.

There was no white to be seen in his left eye, only red and black. Blood, dried and fresh, dripped from it down his cheek, crisscrossing the veins of inky black that snaked under his skin.

He looked demonic.

Oh.

~~~

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