#aliens would very much like them to do it

[keferon]

So the Mech AU is something and it's captured me too.

Set sometime after Prowl discovers Jazz is a pilot but before they go to Earth

———————————————————————

"Do they all look the same?"

Sat in a makeshift chair made from a tarp thrown over a spare tire, Jazz was in the middle of refueling from a small plastic baggie when Prowl broadly gestured to the inanimate body of his mech.

"The mechs? Naw, at least not the ones that last. I've had mine long enough that it's gotten all sorts of unique design changes and upgrades. There's no other mech that looks or moves just like mine."

The reassurance that Jazz's mech form was an individual creation was pleasing for some reason. Perhaps Prowl didn't like the idea of a dozen identical blank visors, the body of his friend replicated and filled with someone else.

"There's like. three or four classes of mech I think?" Jazz continued unaware of Prowl's secret anxiety.

"There's Rescue Class, those are the smallest, and they actually aren't built for fighting but for digging through rubble and cleaning up chunks of alien. Plus, sometimes those tentacle freaks have parasites that drop off when they die so the R-class kill 'em before they can become an invasive species."

"I thought you said they weren't designed for combat?"

Jazz finishes their fuel and shrugs.

"Its a war. Nobody gets out of fighting completely. Before I left I heard they were sticking a medic into- into fuckin' Vortex."

There were, many questions Prowl had concerning that last sentence. How desperate were the humans to be making their caregivers into soldiers? Why was this Vortex so infamous?

Why did Jazz sound angry at first, but by the time he got to saying "Vortex" the name came out as a rush of breath rather than a proper word?

What stopped him from pressing further on the topic was how Jazz seemed to shrink. And sink.

And stare at nothing at all.

It was so nauseatingly not Jazz that Prowl nudged the tire a bit and guided the conversation back to familiar territory.

"So what class are you?" Prowl said, while crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. It was, very off model posture for the Praxian, but without the ability to pick up EM fields, exaggerated body language seemed to be the best way to get through to his human.

On a hunch, Prowl lightly waved his door-wings as well. Jazz smiled at them, and at him and Prowl preened with a modest smile back.

"I happen, to-just-so-be-the-Top-of-my-class-a-thank-you-veeery-much!" Jazz said popping each syllable like a song, resting his chin on his knuckles to match Prowls gaze.

"In terms of mech?" He nodded in its direction.

"I'm Striker Class baby, we're the fastest, the most agile and in my personal opinion the the most effective fighters in the whole program."

"And you do not personally feel as though you are an outlier bringing up the average?"

Mouth agape in mock shock, Jazz placed a hand over his spark- Flesh? Flesh-spark? Prowl deleted the line of thought and focused on the performance.

“I assure you Prowler, there are plenty of other Striker class pilots out there that do good for our name. I mean, there’s Blur for one thing. The guys basically the poster child of the whole program. Ridiculously fast mech. There’s also Hot Rod. His mech had the funny little quirk of CONSTANTLY CATCHING ON FIRE, buuut he turned it from a bug into a feature and now that’s just his thing.”

“Just his thing?!”

“Yup.”

“Being on fire?”

Jazz sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Prowl, “Look. I don’t know the full story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it either, but trust me when I tell you this guy earned it.”

Leaning back, Prowl processed the new layers of insanity humans would apparently subject themselves to before filing it under “Bizarre conversations with Jazz” in his processor and carrying on.

“So what’s your special quality?”

“Me? I’m freakishly good at syncing up with my mech. Like, Blur is faster, but I’m smoother. Like, like that really is me. It just, I dunno, feels right. Fits me.”

Jazz looked over to his mech for a long time. Frowning at the fuel packet in his hands and solemnly crushing it into a ball.

“In terms of mech?” Jazz looked looked over to Prowl, smile returning with ease.

“I think I might be the only one that’s built for the stars.”

Their conversation continued into the evening like a leisurely dance. Discussing Pool Time, the war, cultural differences , the quintessons, their homes, what remained of them, and all the people they know and once knew.

Prowl never brought up Vortex again, though perhaps he should have.

__________________________________________

"What," Prowl choked out, his voice more static than sound. "Is that?"

The sky was green. The quintessions were in chunks. A mech, matte black with a blank visor, caaaarved into the body of the last living invader. A blade that massive was too big to keep a clean cutting edge, so the mech made up for the lack of delicacy with brute force.

It. It wasn't killing the damn thing. It was vivisecting the aliens spinal column from its body, each rib snapping off with a supersonic POP that shook Ratchets hangar and barely carried over the fucking awful sound of the thing screaming in terror.

Prowl would have never thought a Quintession could be a Victim before that moment.

Spine and brain case finally extracted, the mech lifted its prize to its opening vi- mouth.

That is its mouth. It's head was the size of his entire chassis. Inside, a stranger. Over bright eyes, straining and shaking against restraints within to get a better look at what was being held up to him. The mech moved without any input, tilting its helm back and cracking the skull to fill its open maw with cerebral fluid.

A funnel cloud touched down in the distance.

"That.? Jazz said, leaning against Prowls good side. “Is Vortex.”

TH A T. IS VORTEX

Man……I think Cybertronians would consider themselves big and scary compared to primitive earth life. And then meet Vortex. And then see Vortex in their nightmares for the next five million business years

[generalb]

Throughout all my life I’ve always been interested in nonhuman creatures. When I was young and my autism was in its rawest form I would often pit the ancient ancestors of animals against their modern equivalent, either in comparison or in battle(I remember doing a Rhino versus Triceratops once). As I grew older, and the internet allowed me to learn of the creatures of horror movies without being horrified, my attention shifted to that of the alien. I loved learning about the Xenomorphs and Predators, or the aliens from A Quiet Place. Recently, however, a new alien species has taken my interest, though not from horror film, but kinky horror fanfiction. I am of course, talking about the Affini from the Human Domestication Guide, created by GlitchyRobo.

The Affini of HDG are such an interesting species. Despite their peace-desiring nature we have to assume they were the top of the food chain wherever they came from. The strength to do what they do is built into their very biology. Super strength, ability to run absurd speeds, even the regeneration—their origins, whatever they are, were NOT peaceful, guaranteed. Not to mention the biological drugs that exist within them that can be used through either their flowers or needles hidden within their vines that can pierce human skin almost unnoticed. Another noteworthy trait is their ability to mimic or exist as different species of plants, like a fern Affini or a rose Affini. This level of adaptation mixed with the usage of drugs suggests that their origins could have been as prey, which would match with our known plants, unable to move from predators and thus evolving traits to deter them. The strength and speed, however, are things I’m not smart enough to explain away. Once they gained them, however—combined with their adaptation and ability to deceive using drugs, they would’ve been near unstoppable, similar to how ancient humans hunted megafauna and old predators such as the Sabertooth to extinction thanks to our newly evolved adaptive nature.

Their personality is curious, however—for a species in Post-Scarcity, I can understand the want and desire to help other aliens, including humans. But the specific pet dynamic they desire seemingly clashes with their message of helping sophonts(universal term for a non-Affini) be the best they can be. It almost seems instinctual, similar to humans and their pack-bonding ability. They desire other species to be at their peak, but refute certain things that don’t align with their idea, such as humans free will to make bad decisions at the cost of others and/or themselves. While modern human morals would agree with not wanting bad things to happen, the moderate to great usage of drugs the Affini are known for is less than acceptable.

The unfortunate fact is, any and all speculation about the Affini’s origins or why they do what they do is unknown. Given their extremely advanced technology and knowledge, it could be difficult to even know if they were a plant based species in the first place, or if becoming immortal through reblooming as vine creatures was a scientific advancement or not.

Granted, I’m analyzing a species from a hypno kink universe, and I shouldn’t expect crazy world building, but it’s just so much fun!

Edit: @arkkaxe has included a link to a site detailing the Affini in the replies, and it has been very helpful!

It appears that the low gravity environment the Affini hail from caused the evolution of prehensile limbs, and the xenodrugs might be related to their pollen from earlier days of reproduction using “beeple.” Speaking of that subject, their use of beeple lead to the cultural urge of master/pet dynamics, which slightly confirms my original belief that the desire felt more instinctual than purposeful.

I’m glad to be so pleasantly surprised at all the lore of this world! I take back what I said about the world building, there’s obviously enough to get its own website!

[felassan]

"During early development of The Veilguard, BioWare experimented with multiplayer once again, however, Epler insists that there was never a mandate from parent company Electronic Arts to implement any specific online or live-service modes; the devs were just exploring different ways to tell the story. Eventually, BioWare ditched the multiplayer aspects to focus solely on creating a single-player experience, aiming to meet the lofty expectations of the fandom. “We’re a studio built to make single-player RPGs,” Epler says. “And more importantly, I think a lot of people have come here to build single-player, story based RPGs. So, it just kind of ended up making more sense to make this game the way it is versus a multiplayer game.” With the transition back to a core single-player emphasis, many of The Veilguard’s systems had to be reworked, including one that Bioware is most famous for: the companion system. Unlike previous Dragon Age games, The Veilguard only lets players take on two companions instead of three — more in line with how the party system works in Bioware’s other big game, Mass Effect. However, when developers were testing out multiplayer for the game, it had the classic four-player party setup where the player and three other friends could join. But now that The Veilguard was strictly a solo affair, BioWare wanted to focus on the main protagonist, Rook, and their companions. Banter between the party was essential to get them to feel like fully-realized characters. In previous Dragon Age games, whenever the player traversed the world, non-playable party members would talk to each other about current events or their interests, fleshing out their perspectives and constantly evolving the dynamic between the team. This was usually reserved for just two characters at a time, however, with the third generally meandering off to the side. ��One of the biggest things we got slammed on at Dragon Age: Inquisition’s launch was people felt there wasn’t enough companion banter because it wasn’t firing as often,” Epler says. “So much of our companion banter is built around two characters interacting. When it came down to it, it felt like [three] was the right number when we were building the game.” And while it took some time to come to a final number of active party members, Epler insists that initial experimentation with multiplayer didn’t impact the decision in the end. “It was not a relic of the multiplayer at all,” he says. “In fact, one of the few things that survived was the four-person party until we tried it out a lot and realized that three made the most sense for the game.”"

"Lessons to be learned While Anthem’s poor reception wasn’t the sole reason for BioWare’s decision to focus on creating single-player, narrative-driven games again, it was clearly a catalyst. One of the biggest complaints about the game from fans was the lack of traditional storytelling and characters that made the studio revered in the first place, especially coming off the back of one of the developers’ weakest links, Andromeda. “We were alienating parts of our fan base that had been with us for a long time, and not successfully bringing in anyone else through the multiplayer side of things,” Epler says. “The reception to Anthem was very clear in that we needed to get back to those aspects that we did well, and multiplayer became an obstacle in the way of doing just that.” [...] The biggest lesson that BioWare learned from Mass Effect: Andromeda’s botched launch was the importance of polish. The game became the butt of jokes and a slew of memes for its hilarious visual glitches, a legacy that leaves Epler feeling torn. “I do think Andromeda was a better game than its reception suggested, but on the flip side, I don’t think the reception was unfair,” he recalls. “At the time of launch, there were technical issues and things that didn’t work.” Avoiding these issues again was of critical importance to Epler and the rest of the team, especially as they sought to get back on players’ good graces. Another lesson that BioWare took from critics of Andromeda, and Inquisition too, was that sometimes building a massive open world doesn’t mean much when it isn’t filled with meaningful content. At the time both games were being developed, open worlds and big explorable spaces had become an industry trend, even in games where they failed to serve the overall vision. BioWare still wanted players to have a sense of discovery in The Veilguard, but also didn’t want to settle for an open-world that the developers couldn’t realistically fill. “We had been doing Dragon Age pre-production on versions of Dragon Age 4, and we did have a version that was a lot more open-world,” Epler says. “But again, we ran into the same problem of how do you make it compelling or narratively interesting? The reception to Andromeda definitely solidified that.”"

"Staying focused on what’s next With Dragon Age: The Veilguard now complete, BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions. The developers’ full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project. While Epler won’t divulge anything about it, he does weigh in on whether BioWare would take another crack at multiplayer. “It’s possible to tell a strong story in a multiplayer game. Final Fantasy XIV does an excellent job,” he says. “Multiplayer also introduces some complications around world states. I make a giant choice in my world, and the world changes.” For games like Dragon Age, the consequences of a player’s choice are intended to impact the narrative moving forward, but for a multiplayer game, it isn’t quite as simple. For example, one player could choose to save a certain person from their fate while another could do the opposite. “It’s funny, because the games I play the most on my personal time are actually multiplayer games,” he says. “But when it comes to crafting these worlds and crafting the experiences, I love the focus that single-player can give you.” Epler also comments on the possibility of some sort of Dragon Age collection, similar to the Mass Effect Legendary Collection that updated the original games for modern consoles in 2021. Having been at Bioware since the first Dragon Age game back in 2009, he would love to see a collection come together, but remastering the first three games in the series would be challenging as they were originally designed using EA’s proprietary game engines. The first two used their own custom Eclipse Engine while Inquisition used Frostbite, a platform famously used to build the Battlefield games. The Mass Effect trilogy, on the other hand, used Unreal Engine, a more flexible and widely popular engine used in game development, which made the remastering process much easier for the Legendary Collection. “I think I’m one of about maybe 20 people left at BioWare who’s actually used Eclipse,” Epler says. “It’s something that’s not going to be as easy Mass Effect, but we do love the original games. Never say never, I guess that’s what it comes down to.” Shifting focus from multiplayer integration to fleshing out the solo narrative ultimately allowed BioWare to finally get The Veilguard to the finish line. “Once [the companions] become the core, all the other pieces start falling into place,” he says. “Statistically, a lot of people just take the first two companions they meet, and that’s their party for the rest of the game. I would say for The Veilguard, try different characters, try different combinations, and get outside your comfort zone.”"

[source]

Rolling Stone interview with John Epler: '‘Dragon Age: The Veilguard’ Is Bioware’s Best Game in Ages. Here’s How They Got There'

Veteran Bioware creative director John Epler looks back on the lessons learned from the studio's failed multiplayer game

Some key excerpts:

"BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions" for DA:TV

The devs' "full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project"

[source]

[major-comet]

i think it would be so much easier to buy into the theory that south actually Didn’t leave north for dead and delta just lied about it if she hadn’t tried to do it to wash, too. if the only two she supposedly tried to leave for dead were north offscreen, and delta? yeah okay, i can see it. but i think the progression of north-wash-delta is actually Crucial to it all. because you’ve got:

a) the brother that the director and price alienated her from. they intentionally drove a wedge between the two of them by obviously favoring him over her - it was the whole point of having both of them in the project. he had a consistent spot on the leaderboard, and he got a shiny new AI. he got what she wanted.

b) her squadmate that rose up from the lower ranks after her, who was generally regarded by the rest of their squad as a worse soldier than her. who still managed to maintain a strong position on the leaderboard even when she couldn’t. her squadmate who got an AI, but his implantation went poorly enough that they shut down the program before giving her one (which, side note; i don’t think she was ever actually going to get one. they would have found another reason to not give her an AI - perhaps even citing that leaderboard performance). he got what she wanted, and - in her mind, at least in part - prevented her from getting it.

and c) what she always wanted.

after so long, what was initially just jealousy and envy towards her brother and their other teammates twisted and corrupted into bitterness and resentment. and after she finally gets what she’s wanted for so long - an AI of her own - she’s willing to throw him away if it means saving herself from the meta.

south’s arc from 9-6 is one of the best representations of just how well freelancer was able to sow resentment among its agents, and i think that the north of it all is kind of the crux of it for her. and trying to write off that very important part of the end of her arc (i love that the end of her arc is the first we see of her, btw) as just a lie told by delta is a disservice to her and the complexity of her arc, honestly. to me, it’s a huge part of what makes south so interesting.

and that’s not to say that delta wasn’t being manipulative when he told wash about what she did - he absolutely was. he knew exactly the effect those words would have on wash. he was being vindictive and manipulative - but i do think he was being honest. reminding wash of how she tried to leave both of them to the meta would likely have been enough if he pushed it - why risk a lie about north if he didn’t have to? doesn’t seem logical to me.

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[pixeltwix]

⚠️Emma May & Ciphertology⚠️

-Backpacking off of my theory from yesterday!! Very long text post incoming-

I’m of the mind where not only do I believe Emma May’s family was in a cult, but that they continued to practice its teachings after being disbanded. From here this is just my own personal ramblings as I have a very long and personal take on Emma May and Fiddleford’s lives and history as a whole and separately. Today will be dedicated to Em’s side (ft her families designs as well :3 )

Emma May’s father, Dale Dixon, is the older brother of Madeline Dixon- the teenage girl who was one of the first to be swayed by this Silas Birchtree. It’s implied she fell for him in place of her boyfriend at the time, but I choose to believe this was a lingering affection she’d keep for life in her worship.

Being a young man at the birth, peak, and end of Ciphertology already with a wife and children, Dale was too closely wooed by the teachings of Silas and the inter-dimensional being that was Bill Cipher. He was a bit of a cult kiss ass, if you will. He’d be the first to do whatever Silas would suggest or order of the cults people and the man was happy to do it. Be it shaving his head and painting on an eye or attempting to build the portal he had zero qualifications for alongside everyone else.

Naturally after the cult was disbanded and everyone was put into witness protection, while Dale accepted the state relocation for his family (to Virginia) he refused any government aid beyond that. Instead dragging his young family and sister into the woods where he constructed a shabby little home for them. A home where no one would contradict his word and he could continue the teachings of Ciphertology.

Emma May was born only a few short years later. And while her father had already named one of her older brothers as a namesake to his idol, Silas, her mother named her in turn for her secret idol, Emmaline Butternubbins. She knew Dale would never accept the original name, so she did what she could to compromise- it was a cope of sorts. Thelma Lou, Em’s mother, unfortunately has no say in her husbands madness and is slowly being broken down to the cult. While she had some resistance when Em was born it wouldn’t last too terribly long as soon every adult figure in the family believed in Ciphertology.

Growing up in the middle of nowhere Appalachia’s, Emma May didn’t have much outside influence other than the mini cult community her father had created over the years within neighboring people. She knew no different than the madness and basic cult ideas of ‘have as many kids and wives as you want just so we can create more followers’ sort of mindset. The only hiccup was that Emma May was never dumb, she wasn’t so easily swayed by the triangles teachings, she always internally questioned everything- no matter what adult was telling her things she always was left with a feeling of ‘is that really true though?’

She kept such thoughts to herself, assuming she wouldn’t have to actually do anything notable within the cult, she was shocked and horrified when at the age of 15 her father was bringing her before an older man to marry. An older man who already had a handful of wives. She knew even if she was older she wouldn’t want this life, seeing upfront her mothers decay in the cult and the mass of siblings that she had..she didn’t want that. She wanted an education, basic rights, and just? Freedom from this. She didn’t know if the outside world would be different, but at that point she didn’t much care. She wanted out and she needed out fast.

Running away from home before the official marriage ceremony she remains on the run until she makes it to Fredericksburg, VA. A bustling friendly town that otherwise left her feeling like she was in an alien world. She looked straight out of the early 1900s in a wave of hip and groovy late 1960’s styles. While she couldn’t read anymore than simple words she skimmed through the phone book of a nearby cafe, and while unable to find any Dixon outside of her indoctrinated family she found hope in searching for names under her mothers maiden name, ‘Finch’. 

Discovering a man in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, by the name of Benjamin Finch she manages to find her mothers estranged brother. A man her mother was forced to shun and block out the second he expressed concern over her involvement in a cult. Thankfully upon learning who she was he was more than happy to shelter her, albeit he only lived in a trailer as he practically lived in the museum he worked at. Making her way up the East coast, Emma May finds herself in Jersey, her uncle slowly acclimating her to modern life. Teaching her how to read, to write, and most importantly teaching her the reality of the world. Luckily he wasn’t a religious man of any sorts and rooted her in modern thoughts of science, feminism, and other new age ideas of the time.

Once he felt she was ready he let her attend Glass Shard High, getting the education she always wanted despite struggling to understand the basics. This didn’t get her down though as she was determined to graduate someday. Instead she tracks down local nerd and idea enthusiast, Stanford Pines, someone she hardly finds to be ‘a freak’ considering her cultish upbringing was beyond bizarre (plus she learned from an early age to find beauty in the ‘odd’ or ‘weird’) Befriending a young Ford and learning from him she also befriends Stan, someone who was more than willing to help her break out of her docile and dainty shell. Stan’s girlfriend at the time, Carla McCorkle was equally happy to teach her the modern idea of feminine rather than beaten to death old book concepts. Living in Jersey, in short, was slowly thawing her from the confines of her upbringing- developing into the life she always wanted and frankly? She was thriving!

She was also gaining her own beliefs in this time. Such as ‘marriage is stupid’ and ‘having kids is stupid, I’m never going to have them’ sort of mindset. Thanks to her upbringing she swore then and there that she would never have a family of her own. So, that’s what makes her next phase of life particularly ironic.

After the science project incident in senior year between the Pines brothers the friend circle would face a brutal falling out, the only one keeping in touch with everyone being Emma May herself. Stan is kicked out and the brothers aren’t talking, Carla breaks up with Stan and refuses any more connection to the Pines, and Em is left in limbo to comfort and appease everyone whilst ignoring her own feelings about it all. Between the late night girl talks with Carla, keeping Ford off the edge, and letting Stan stay with her in the trailer it was only a matter of time before her juggling attempts would fall.

And that’s exactly what happened- after Ford discovers she’s been harboring Stan he can’t help the rush of anger, insecurity, and betrayal that someone he considered his only friend left to hide that from him. Also afraid of losing a friend who’s done so much for her in her cult unlearning she’s quick to prove her loyalty. Packing her bags after graduation she joins Ford to Backupsmore to continue supporting him, taking up a diner job beside campus and shacking up in a cheap apartment. She continues secretly offering Stan money when she can as she still feels guilt for her decision, but it becomes less frequent as she’s now supporting herself financially on her own.

But of course her sole company of Ford wouldn’t last forever. Especially when all she tends to hear from him is how cool his roommate is and how’s he’s thrilled to be around another intellectual mind for once. And while he was hesitant to introduce his two friends to one another it was quick history after that-

Em absolutely deals with a lot of survivors guilt and general fear (lots of ‘I can’t believe I left my younger siblings behind, what if thEY were forced to marry that man in my place?!’ and ‘what if the cult tracks me down and forces me back home?!’) and on top of that I already feel she’s got some religious based ptsd and some bpd in there as well, but I think that would make her more endeared to Fiddleford when they first meet. A man who was pretty open about his own anxiety and ocd (idk if that’s a popular hc, but him having ocd makes so much sense to me) definitely helped her understand herself better and the two of them absolutely developed ways to help one another with it. They become each other’s safe spaces essentially <3

I feel like all of this is something I could talk about for hOURS, but I feel I’ve already typed up enough for today. So take this all as you will :) it’s just been super fun rewriting the story I had for her. I always envisioned her to be a teen runaway and living with her estranged uncle in Jersey, but now it makes even more sense plugging in my cult theory. But anywho, I hope this was an enjoyable for y’all to read as it was for me to type

[raddagher]

Arcane is over (😭) and I have some criticisms so here are my lists of who Won and who Lost in no particular order

LOST SEASON 2

1. Isha

Literally wasn't even mentioned after she died, like wtf was that

We couldn't have a memorial or anything? Come on

Her sacrifice was ultimately meaningless because Warwick got brought back anyway

2. Sevika

Didn't get a single line through all of Act 3

Where is my wife

At least she didn't die?

3. The entire Undercity, to be honest

Where did the independence thread go

Giving Sevika a council seat wasn't enough

I don't like that so many of them had to fight in Enforcer uniforms, that felt wrong

That was the MAIN CONFLICT for most of the show. It felt so weird to gloss over it at the end

4. Vander/Warwick

Gonna be real I wasn't super crazy about most of his presence here, I don't feel like it actually contributed much to anyone's development, except MAYBE Viktor's

We would not have lost anything if they didn't have the flashback scene with their mom

Super didn't like Jinx's ending as it pertained to him

5. Jinx

Hey I super don't like that every character who had a moment of suicide ideation or attempt ended up dead or "dead"

I don't like the way she "died" it didn't feel earned

I don't feel like the ending she got aligned well with her character at all. She spiraled and then just. stayed at the bottom of the spiral :(

They put a TON of family stuff in act 1 and 2 that didn't get resolution in 3

I think they kinda did my girl dirty I'm sorry

6. Loris

Clearly would have had more of a role if they didn't have to cut him for time

NEITHER WON NOR LOST SEASON 2

1. Vi

I want to say she won because she got to bang her cop girlfriend in a prison cell and the sex scene was good as hell but

She also was just taking massive L's the whole time

Like it never felt like she ever had any real wins other than that and that bummed me out

Didn't get enough time to be a dumbfuck with Jayce :(

Caitlyn

Didn't get enough proper resolution for her wonderful fascist arc

She felt a little dropped in Act 3 as well

Glad she got that Vussy tho, good for her

And I did like the vs Ambessa fight, that was also good

I honestly feel like Viktor and Jayce's romance was written better than her and Vi's, and as a gay woman who is constantly watching mlm relationships get so much more attention, it rubs me the wrong way

WON SEASON 2

1. Viktor (OBVIOUSLY)

The fucked up robot army. The religious imagery. The body horror. His robot alien design is scary as fuck. Absolutely incredible work

Got to be taller and stronger than Jayce hooray

They're canon. That was the gayest shit I've ever seen in my life

I do wish they had spent more time overall fleshing out more of the disability commentary, I feel like it was a little lacking in the end

Nevertheless BEAUTIFUL and HORRIFYING and TRAGIC

2. Jayce

See above

Yeah he also got to be a big hero and got to be resolved really well

Did NOT see his death coming that was crazy

They Magnus 200'd his ass, damn

He chose Viktor over everything I'm emo

They made a heart when they touched their foreheads together fuck OFF

3. Heimerdinger

Literally just living his best life

Love that he didn't tell Ekko he can't die, he just let the poor boy think he got fuckin atomized, king shit, that's hilarious

I would have stayed in that universe too tbh

4. Ambessa

The single tear over Kino. Her love for her children at direct odds with her need for control. Her arc was explored so well

Died a warrior's death at the hands of her brilliant daughter, I know that's how she would have wanted to go

Also was very hot in every scene. Good for her (and good for me)

She just got a lot of love from the writers and I'm very happy to see that effort put into an older Black woman character

5. Mel

Speaking of gorgeous Black women

I was so worried she was going to get dropped but her ending was SO good

Her glow up with the gold is fantastic, she looks amazing in the white hood

Love that they gave her abilities that would inherently change her priorities AND gave her the throne of Noxus, I have high hopes that she'll be prominent in another show in the future

They made her such a powerful badass but still let her be merciful and forgiving. Absolutely amazing. She is the wolf

6. Ekko (?)

On the fence about him

LOVED the au scene. Perfect

And I loved that our boy savior got to be the one that set off the bomb that stopped Viktor

But he was kind of dropped otherwise? Like what happened with his tree?

Generally wish he had more development and screentime in this season

But I'm happy he was so pivotal to the climax

AND I'm happy he got to kiss Powder. He and Jinx would never have worked out

7. Maddie

Haha I never liked you. Get fucked you horrible little bootlicker. Typical cop

8. Singed

How come YOU get everything you want?

Fuck you.

Basically all my criticisms boil down to it feeling rushed overall. It's clear that they intended to have more time, and that breaks my heart. We all know Netflix's reputation for cancelling stuff out of the blue, and I've heard that maybe certain parties were unhappy with the depictions of gay romance and realistic social revolution. Whatever the reasons, I wish they had a third season, because I think they could have solved every problem I have with it. Regardless, it's an incredible work of art and very likely one of if not THE best animated series ever made.

[whereserpentswalk]

Your new job is to sit at a desk, looking at a single camera feed monitoring a small white room, writing down everything that happens in the room, and then reporting it back to your bosses. The first day, two men are brought into the room, possibly unwillingly, and are instructed to fight to the death. Neither of them think to refuse, one of them wins. You realize there's very little you can do. Though you can hear what's going on in that room from your office, it's in the same building as you, the feed is live and it is near you and there's nothing you can do.

You write the report. Your bosses say it's good work but you need more detail, they'll give you further instructions. The next day the same happens, two men are brought in, two men fight, one man lives. You can hear it all going on across the hall. But you know to add more detail, your bosses love it, they love that you gave the amount of information that you did, they say you have a good eye for these things.

Every day at your job is the same. The men are different most times but survivors come back sometimes. Sometimes they have more then two men, sometimes on teams sometimes not. Sometimes they give them weapons, things that you would find in a hardware store. Sometimes there will be special rules. Sometimes it's just two men fighting to the death. Occasionally it won't be equal, but it will always be fair, but sometimes it'll be something like a man with a fireaxe agaisnt a man with a baseball bat, or three elderly men agaisnt one man in his prime. But it's always fair.

You write down the details well. You always typed fast. Everything anyone would need to know. Anything they said. Every move each of them made. How each injury effected them. The way the blood splatters. If when a man wins if it's because someone dies or because someone is too injured to fight, if he tries to kill of an injured man or let him bleed out. If a man uses his left or right hand to hold a knife. How long a man tries to run or dodge before he starts throwing punches. It eventually stops becoming like a real thing that's happening in the same small building you work in, and more like a game, and it's a game you're winning.

Your bosses might not be human. They never show themselves, and say that you'd be horrified by them if you ever saw them. They refer to humans as separate from them, as a type of synapsid, which is technically true but still. They also just don't talk like people. They could be billions of years old, all of this could be so meaningless to them. They could be demons, or aliens, or creatures from another dimension for all you know. Or they could be rich and powerful people doing their best to scare those who work for them, though they'd be putting a lot of effort into not appearing human if that was the case. It almost seems like them being aliens or something is the less conspiracy minded answer. But still, it doesn't matter, you don't have time to question it. This job pays better then anything else, it's getting you through college, it's gotten you a much nicer apartment in a much better neighborhood then you could with any other job. Who cares if they're demons, they're paying you.

There was one day where you saw a wounded man limping out of the room where the fight had happened. It was the first time you saw someone from the fights in the flesh. It was horrifying, you wanted to turn away, not because of his wounds but because you didn't want to be a part of this. You're just someone who watches it, just someone who reports on it, you're not going to actually be involved.

There was also a time someone screamed at the camera for someone to do something while his opponent was stabbing him to death. There was nothing for you to do, but it was strange to write about. You questioned if you should describe him as begging the camera for help, or begging you for help. But it felt weird for the reports to contain the word "me", you don't think your bosses would like that. You just wrote that he was begging for someone to help, it was the easiest way to describe it after all.

There was one fighter who you really enjoyed seeing. He was young, handsome, and very good at fighting. He wore a smirk when others wore frowns, and had these beautiful blue eyes. He knew how to taunt his enemies and get in their heads. And you always rooted for him to win, and he always did. You started thinking about him more and more, reading into the smallest movements, theorizing about why he was so good, about his past, his hopes and dreams. You read his personality into all of his actions, and loved him so much for it. Part of you hoped you'd accidentally meet him on your way out, and that you'd get to know eachother. Once you even touched yourself to the thought of him with you, but the act gave you a weird type of shame. You never knew his name. After one rough fight he was too injured to fight anymore, mostly blinded from slashes to the face it seemed. You were sad about him for a bit, and then moved on.

Your bosses want you to do a major report on the fights. You get to choose the specifics and your thesis, almost like a college paper. It's so cool and exciting to get to have so much creativity in your job. You wonder what they'll do for you next. You still don't know what your bosses are but they've been talking about a promoting. You're so lucky to have gotten this job.

[desultory-novice]

What were Adeleine and Noir’s parents like

Sorry to hold onto this ask for so long! I've had trouble shaking this weird self-conscious streak that's made it tricky to share my non-art but today seemed like the right day for it.

-

So, I feel like there are two types of parents in OC land: bad abusive parents the OC has to get away from and good parents who die tragically early in the OC's life.

Neichel Fontaine, songstress of the New World, and Rim de la Ride, peregrine Prince of Ripple Star, are definitely the later.

Though, thinking about their personalities, they were probably not like, fairy-tale perfect parents! ^^; Neichel came from a rough background on Shiver Star to start, and due to her career as an agent of government propaganda, had a lot of her empathy stomped on and ground up in order to survive under strict regulations... Till she met Rim, who taught her there was soooo much more to the world–to the galaxy–than just humanity in their darkest days. This didn't lead to Neichel rejecting humanity though! She learned to see the beauty of what her own species had to offer through him.

Rim, meanwhile, is positively filled to the brim with heart (and attuned strongly to Heart Matter, as all fairies are) and almost can't help himself from caring for literally everyone! However, he's perpetually clumsy (like his sister, the Queen of Ripple Star) and a hu~ge cloud cuckoo lander. Fairies are almost identical to humans externally, but they're without a doubt an alien species and there was a lot he did not know about humans (especially raising two little ones >w>) in his job masquerading as a lab technician.

Rim and Neichel were probably the kind of first-time parents who would slip into a minor panic attempting to do some VERY basic baby-rearing task, and (after a bunch of frightening machine noises) finally emerge from the dust and fire with a single (!) bottle of baby formula, smiling at each other with that wonderful new parent glow~ before one thinks to ask, "...Wait. Which one of us has Noir?" "...Oh. I thought you...?" and, screaming, run back inside the smoking kitchen because they realized they left him in the chaos omg!!

...It's a bit of a miracle little Noir survived childhood, honestly! They got much better at the parenting thing by the time Adeleine was born. Not to mention that Noir was -instantly- won over by his adorable baby sister, so his constant questions to them on how he could best take care of little Adeleine helped train his parents to be a little less ditzy and more on the ball about child-rearing as well!

TF when you are born into the role of being the sibling-parent XD

Neichel was the most actively protective of the children, having all the reason in the world (rightly so...) to think that they were pretty constantly in danger: from the New World government, from the agents of Lab Discovera, from the seedy underbelly of Shiver Star...

She never forgot the haunting words of the scientists that day toward her children and kept a close eye on Noir especially (who even the lab had consigned to leave solely in her care from very early on) which in turn lead Noir to becoming a bit of a mama's boy. Her death devastated him in the kind of way that there simply is no words for... The fact that Noir grew up in a world where his mother was considered a traitor and a pariah and he had to play along with the popular opinion of "Neichel" for their safety hurt him a lot...

Neichel sang to both children, frequently, and gave them lots of motherly affection. Noir's habit of letting Adeleine sleep on his lap while he brushes her hair is his mimicking something she used to do for the two of them...

He took his interest in the stars from his father though! While Noir was a mama's boy, Adeleine was absolutely papa's little girl~

(Coincidentally - or anime genetics - each sibling resemble the parent they were closest with: Noir has his mother's warmer skin tone and thicker, faintly brownish hair while Adeleine has her father's straight dark hair and paler complexion. They both have their father's distinct violet eyes, a hint to their heritage as Ripple Star royalty.)

Apologies Adeleine is on the autism spectrum (the reason why she was soo gullible to Noir's kinda painfully obvious lies; why she took his words about "forgetting their past" overly literally; how she could live for years focused on her art without realizing that she wasn't getting any -older- during that time...) so her father's alien-spaciness had a strong appeal for her! He adored her too because they had that shared "Isn't humanity weird and fun?!" (autism + alien = handshake) and she absolutely ate up all his stories about fairies and magic and other planets! She especially loved his stories of what it was like on the fairy home world of Ripple Star and she dreamed of seeing it and all the other fairies one day!

As such, Adeleine is basically having the time of her life in the present, getting to see fun planets similar to the ones her father spoke of and even winding up with a fairy as a best friend!

Clumsy and spacey as Rim was, as much of a total devoted malewife (1) as he was (even with his perpetual clumsiness, he was simply better suited to certain household chores) as mild and polite to everyone as he was, Rim was a strong papa bear figure too!

As much as it hurt to have to make the worst call a parent can make to their children, that being the one he made as he lay dying (Neichel was killed first... Arguably, Rim's fairy constitution kept him alive a little longer) his last act was to call Noir and warn him what was coming, giving the young Noir enough time to trash his father's research, shut down the house, and make it appear like the kids had ran while hiding himself and Adeleine till the first wave of danger was over.

(It was enough time to hide, but enough for Noir to properly grieve? ...Alas, no.)

As mentioned above, present-day Adeleine no longer remembers her parents that well thanks to Noir's insistence, as well as the shock-inducing trauma of their death, and the scary things that followed. Noir does recall them (though he doesn't remember the more...magical aspects of their family) but he doesn't like to talk or think about them.

Even with odd quirks like him spending his first few years growing up in a highly controlled lab environment (which he didn't seem to mind?! Making friends with his fellow the lab animals) Noir and Adeleine did have a happy childhood with them. Which is what makes the way everything came crashing down all the more traumatic....

-

(1) Rim and Neichel were very much in love btw. Neichel's life was quite dark when she met Rim, and he gave her, well, everything she simply could not see in the world. He restored her faith in all of it and kept her grounded, despite his fairy wings fufu~ For Rim, it was love at first sight, and the more Neichel bloomed around him, the more he found himself unable to draw away, despite the fact that he was in the Earth system for a valuable mission. (O-Oops...!)

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

[schemelin]

every now and then i experience brief moments of self-awareness telling me to make major changes to the fusionsprunt story

[funeralprocessor]

Art from Mundus Carnis, a geiger-esque biopunk worldbuilding project by Screeble on DA.

I'm a huge huge fan of their art and writing and worldbuilding, have been for years. They did some fantastic work in a collaborative spec evo forum game I lurked.

Which have lived in my head ever since.

[torgawl]

everytime i think about the new chapter the more and more i like it, it really consolidated yuuta and gojo's characters. the revelation of how the higher-ups were taken down and the set-up for the scene with gojo and yuuta's conversation about what their plan was for gojo's body, in case he lost, might just be the part i find most interesting. all in all, the chapter really highlights the underlying difference between the violence of oppression and the violence of resistence and revolution.

when it comes to yuuta and the archetype of his character he is the pure embodiment of love in the series. if yuuji is able to reach sukuna because he was one with him (love as oneness), yuuta's entire exitence has sorrounded love and, specifically, love as a curse. sukuna's surprise at yuuta's antics come from a place of not understanding love and therefore being unable to conceptualise that yuuta would go so far as betray his own humanity for it. he can't conceive how love can drive a person like yuuta, who's sweet and kind-hearted, to a place as cursed as this - emphasised by the sheer horror and heinosity that is seeing the usage of gojo's dead body with yuuta's innocent expression. but we know that yuuta's journey has always been marked by this concept of love as a curse, starting all the way back in jjk 0 where yuuta's unwillingness to let go of a deceased rika caused her to linger in the world in the form of a cursed spirit. one that yuuta learns to let go of by the end of the story. a lot of what he learns in that moment is about consent and mutuality in love (hence his domain expansion name), and although rika's soul passes and gets freed she is able to manifest her will into her vessel that continues to protect yuuta until this day. yuuta asking gojo for consent to use his body not only consolidates this mutual exchange and respect that he has for those he cares for - which are his main driving force - but is also exactly what separates him from someone like kenjaku, who body hops with total disregard for who they were originally. so there's that layer of irony behind yuuta having rika consume kenjaku to copy his technique and make use of it in a equally disturbing but more compassionate way. which in itself can serve to both question if intent plays a role in absolution and introduce, once again, the idea that humans and curses are not so different, as explored between mahito and yuuji in shibuya with them mirroring each other.

in regards to gojo i think his aknowledgement of his own inertia when it came to the revolution that he was leading was the cherry on top to consolidate who gojo really was as a person. gojo's greatest character flaw was arguably that he simply wasn't radical enough, allowing his students to be targets under the influence of the higher-ups. he had reasons not to kill them, as he explained before in the series, but he still failed to weight the consequences of his own actions and how no one is rewarded by working under a broken system. and i feel like having the youth he guided watching as he killed them is also quite significant as they're followers of this new revolutionary ideology.

i think the shock or impact these violent or twisted acts by the hands of those forced to survive within the status quo (like maki slaughtering her clan, gojo killing the higher-ups, yuuta taking over gojo's body) as a reaction to the violence they're subjeted to by this same system serves some purpose. and i think this is the reason the higher-ups are these anonymous faceless figures, barely-there personalities who have such a big influence in the lives of so many people. even in the real world, and we can think of systems like capitalism and how it exploits people in such a casual way and it relies on that exploration to survive, we sort of take for granted that violence coming from those institutions, having our attention driven away from the minority that's upholding these systems to other things instead. that violence is more "acceptable" because we've been conditioned to it whereas the violence in response to those acts is always met with more scrutiny. and that kind of contextualises why shoko and nanami, for example, much like gojo, aren't really revolutionary with their ideals either - or rather, do not get that priviledge. the difference being gojo was someone these higher-ups were actively afraid of, because if he wanted to, he could have done more. and that's exactly why the instant he was sealed it was the perfect opportunity for them to do whatever they could to prevent him from coming back and place new-drawn targets on the backs of the people gojo was protecting. the gruesome nature of maki slaughtering her clan or the off-putting way people react to yuuta discarding his own humanity and going against what he believes is right to make sure gojo's legacy continues is almost forcing this question of what are people willing to stomach in the name of survival and change.

gojo remembering geto in that crucial moment ("i was falling behind" or "i have to catch up") and just having in mind how they were both so young and naive is so incredibly bittersweet. geto had radical ideals, no matter how misguided. he looked at the world and he had this unshakeable conviction that things couldn't continue to be the way they were. he reached incredibly misplaced conclusions, yes, which came from a place of great pain and alienation, but gojo finally stepping forward to follow that same path, to be more radical, also sort of confirms that things could have been so different if only gojo had the same level of consciousness back then; that they could have found a way better solution together instead of the tragedy that ensued. the parallels between them add an extra layer of wistfulness to their bond, too. their fates have and always will be so intertwined, in such a beautiful and tragic way. and i think geto's unwillingness to force gojo to take a certain path will always be one of the biggest proofs of his love towards him. at the end of the day, even knowing gojo was who he was, geto always seemed to want to protect gojo's path from being stained like his.

at the core, jjk really is a story about revolution and humanity; a story about love and curses and how love is the most twisted curse of all (which has been reinforced over and over again). the fact some are rewarded and some are punished for taking certain paths under the same system is there to convey a very specific message. i really love the incorporation of eastern philosophies within the story and the role horror plays, too. the usage of the genre to deepen the impact of these themes and the way things are introduced with the intention to provoke almost visceral reactions in the readers (much like yuuta's own reaction) also makes the message much more impactful. i think this chapter was great!!!

[lurking-latinist]

🐈

[batsplat]

what press conference is that and what lies is Valentino telling 😭😭😭

I’m always obsessed w the Case - J Lo - Vale pressers bc I feel like Jorge actively dissociates anytime he’s not asked a question (bc he’s already internally mapping out his answers to the next 20 possible questions he could be asked), Casey simmers n stews n hates every second of being there, and Vale is just always having the time of his life

(side note but rly underrated skill of his!! to be able to pretend you actually enjoy the press element!! maybe he’s not pretending, maybe he really is just able to turn it On that often & that easily…but idk I’ve been a longtime f1 fan too & the way Vale is able to make press conferences ~fun, or at least project that he’s having fun during them, is incredibly rare)

((i recognize “underrated” is probably not the right term generally speaking for the guy who is widely recognized as like the greatest showman the sport’s ever had lol. just that i personally underrate it & then am always pleasantly surprised when i watch almost any press conference of his))

(text posts here) this is from aragon 2011, a point in their relationship where quite honestly casey didn't need much of an excuse to give valentino the stink eye

there's not anything in the presser you'd actively expect casey to want to kill valentino with his mind over (beyond valentino's terminal affinity for yapping at anyone in his vicinity in these things). maybe valentino commenting on how fast casey and ducati had been at aragon the last year somehow attracted casey's ire? maybe valentino reiterating he was going to race in japan (a major talking point throughout that year - valentino and jorge had initially been united in launching a bit of a riders' revolt on that issue, including meeting at jorge's motorhome at a time when relations between them were otherwise... uh, frosty; eventually it had been casey and jorge who were the final holdouts, with casey still not willing to 100% commit at aragon)... generally though, I reckon this is mostly just how casey looked at valentino those days

though that reminds me, there's one specific question where, if I were valentino, honestly I'd be tempted to off myself - but somehow it's casey who manages to look quite awkward while valentino just laughs

Q: Different question for you, Casey - any advice for Valentino this weekend? This is where you turned your season around last year. ... Ride faster? CS: Do something drastic, I don't know... (mumbles) [Same for me?]

absolute all timer dynamic idk, look at casey's little nervous tics while valentino is grinning at him

so self-conscious god bless

anyway, here's the presser photo

expression gets gradually more enthusiastic as you move to the right. not reflective of current competitive situation

and yeah I find their different styles of engagement v interesting!! jorge's also gone on a bit of an arc with this over the years... you've got these very early clips where he still needs a translator in the presser (not at all uncommon, dovi for instance was the same) and he's just deeply awkward but also quite enthusiastic, then you get to his first premier class years where... y'know, he's clearly not a natural at this, but he WANTS to be, he WANTS to engage with the process and be charming and all the rest of it... and then by 2011 he's kind of given up. 2010 was great for his career but less great for his popularity, and it's really when you can feel the disillusionment creeping in. he never quite loses that part of himself, still obviously wants to win hearts and minds... but yeah. he's never been particularly up for listening to his peers in these things, but by this point in time he did clearly want to fast forward through these things. default state is zoning out

casey might be a well-known sceptic of any kind of engagement with the public - but he's actually a self-professed people watcher, he likes sitting around quietly observing people. one of my fave lil autobiography nuggets:

I like to think I can read people very well, especially people I get to study a lot, and when I come in during a session to make changes to the bike that is exactly what I am doing. The mechanics might think that because I have got my visor down I'm just sitting there doing nothing but I'm observing everything and I could see they weren't coping well with the pressure of having the big bosses watching over them.

'my mechanics think I'm doing nothing but actually I'm sitting with my visor down secretly observing them' is such a. a deeply funny line, deeply casey line. not sure I'm convinced the mechanics would prefer to know that this is what casey was doing, but there we are. in any case, obviously casey doesn't SAY this but I don't think it's a massive leap to suggest he was doing the same thing in pressers. ofc I enjoy using these photos in text posts because they kinda tell their own story, but I should note that to some extent this is just casey's resting face. like,, if I'm sufficiently motivated obviously I can also make a 'casey doesn't fw dani' version

now admittedly, there are way fewer photos of casey staring at dani and jorge (or indeed anyone else) than there are of him staring at valentino... arguably even in the years where valentino is very much no longer casey's main on-track rival. but like, there's also relatively less photos of casey making heart eyes at those other two guys. whether this genuinely reflects how much staring casey was doing or is just the result of photographer bias (no criticism, I too would be documenting every look casey sends valentino's way) or a combination of the two... who knows. but I DO think that casey was very much committed to studying valentino, including by doing this little staring act in pressers. slightly clashes with his whole 'oh I don't care about my rivals' schtick, but, well, casey's no stranger to a bit of an internal contradiction. so he's quietly studying and quietly judging and quietly seething... LEARNING from the enemy by documenting every last detail of his side profile. or something

and yeah lol massive props to valentino not getting tired of this week in week out. admittedly in pressers specifically he does also frequently entertain himself by choosing the nearest convenient victim to yap at, which both jorge and casey very obviously found an annoying habit at times. (shout out to misano 2016 where jorge and valentino started bickering in the presser and jorge afterwards went HE NEVER SHUTS UP IN THESE THINGS, which, like, wasn't particularly relevant in that specific situation and clearly had just been something he'd been sitting on for years.) both jorge and casey have also actively turned to valentino on at least one occasion in a presser to indicate that they would like him to shut the fuck up - and both times valentino has complied, so theoretically at least they could have put a stop to this. so, y'know, it probably doesn't hurt if you're the type of guy willing to make your own fun in these pressers, even when it comes at the active cost of the sanity of the people around you. beyond that though, yup. I mean it's probably a good attitude to have if that's literally your whole life. I think it's always done valentino a lot of good that he's fundamentally a curious type of bloke who is curious about other people. journalists DO piss him off a lot of the time, but in theory it's a process he likes engaging with because he likes talking and he likes listening. honestly did miracles for the vibes of these things, like the f1 thing is a good point because I sometimes watch motogp pressers these days and go. man. this place could do with a yapper