#centurion tales

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Boat tail tales - part 5: Buick Centurion XP-301, 1956. The first car designed by Chuck Jordan after he joined GM. The aerodynamic 4-seat coupe featured a boat-tail style rear end that housed a camera to provide the driver with a rear view. A common feature now but 70 years ago it was revolutionary

[elderscrollsconceptart]

"Dwemer Dungeon"

Art for Tales of Tamriel

Are by Jan Pospisil

[foolishlyzephyrus]

i’m so glad i am good with money because i fear i would otherwise be blowing crazy amounts on big finish box sets

[goron-king-darunia]

I want to open this by saying that I'm sure everyone put in their utmost effort and that their translations are correct. I am not chalking up any of my observations here as a failure or mistranslation on their part. I'm also not saying that just because the stuff in the event doesn't match my headcanons doesn't mean the stuff that happened isn't canon somehow or that the event should cater to me specifically or that somehow the people at Bamco don't know what their own intentions are. These are my observations and opinions and I'm petty as shit because I have been in deep with DotNW for years and I'm very precious with it and I'm sure I have nostalgia goggles for it the same way ToS fans have nostalgia goggles for the original game that make them overly precious with how the Shepherds of Regeneration were handled/mishandled in DotNW. With that out of the way:

Richter and Aster are cute as always of course, even if I do NOT get the direction the writers went with some of these lines. But it makes my feelings for Ratatosk even more complicated than they already were.

Ratatosk calls Richter out for what the narrative agrees is Richter looking down on Emil and treating him as a kid. Richter and Emil do push back on that and the narrative does imply that while Emil is correct that Richter is at least in part trying to keep his confidence up, Richter himself admits that he still sees Emil as the scared kid he met in Luin and not the man he became through their journey. So on the one hand it's kind of nice to see Ratatosk have something between paternal, fraternal, and self-love toward Emil, wanting Emil to be able to do things himself and shine and be his own person because that courage really earned Ratatosk's respect and he's glad for Emil to be handling things with his own power, even if that means "holding back" from using their spirit powers which Ratatosk considers extensions of his own strength. Emil's independence is something he agrees is better for Emil, even if he doesn't understand Emil's strange logic about it.

Like, it's nice to see Ratatosk openly caring about the other version of himself, the part he hated so much he made it an entirely different self, even if it reads a little bit like narcissism because, like. That's growth. Ratatosk cares for and believes in that part of himself that he shoved away before and embraces Emil as his own person but also as a valuable part of himself. That proves the journey he took in DotNW had an impact on him and what he considers strength and what sorts of qualities he considers valuable to foster in himself through his new self AND old self.

But at the same time Ratatosk is SO FUCKING MEAN TO RICHTER. And, I'm not expecting him to be friendly. These two were fighting one hell of a cold war with each other in their own world because they both had reasons to feel hurt and both had very valid senses of being wronged and wanting justice and that doesn't go away just because they got swept into a new world where at least some of the harm from before was undone. Aster may be back and (If I remember correctly) Kharlan or at least a world tree that is partly like Kharlan has been brought to this world, so like. Yes, the major points of pain for those two have been addressed but that doesn't magically make those emotional wounds go away. I get it. I'm glad they're not super chummy or whatever and pretending they're letting bygones be bygones because having those things unfairly ripped from them AT ALL doesn't simply undo what was done and doesn't mean they didn't suffer and aren't still suffering.

But Interpreting Richter's desire to, like, not have Emil drown or almost drown to death as "underestimating and looking down on" Emil or seeing him as some weak human or treating Ratatosk as some stupid weakling that would let Emil drown is, like, super uncharitable. I'm not calling it a mistake. In fact I do think it says something about Ratatosk for him to be mean as fuck to Richter. But at the same time, it just complicates how I feel about him because, like... I get that you're still mad my dude, but holy shit Ratatosk. Richter can genuinely care about Emil and implying that he doesn't after everything you went through is uncharitable as fuck, bro. Again, I think it genuinely works for the story, I'm pretty sure the point IS that Ratatosk is still growing and still has problems he needs to grow from because, like, being uncharitable toward people who are ultimately trying to help you is generally a flaw that people need to work through, so the narrative setting this up as something Ratatosk can still grow from, that he isn't just a stagnant lump that's done growing and changing, is good. But holy hell. I will never not find that abrasive, which is really sad because I know a lot of people including my closest DotNW mooties love Ratatosk a lot. And during his better moments I enjoy him, but holy hell. If they wanted to write him like a hate sink they wouldn't need to change much.

And then we have whatever this is. XD This screenshot is just funny as fuck to me because this is playing very loose with BOTH the implied canon of the game that Richter and Aster could have been "More than Friends" in DotNW because their relationship is suspiciously vague beyond, like, "best friends" and Rilena is barely a character (sad.) But it ALSO goes against the retcon/rewrite/technically canon compliant expansion of Onshuu no Richter where Rilena and Aster are, if we trust the fan translation, implied to be engaged.

Like, make up your mind, Bamco. Is Aster gay for Richter, Straight for Rilena, Bi for both of them, or whatever the fuck kind of nerd loser shit you're implying here where this absolute rizzlord is SOMEHOW STRIKING OUT WITH THE LADIES AND NOT GETTING ALONG WITH GIRLS?! I can't even tell if I'm supposed to read this as "so gay he doesn't know how to get along with women and Rilena is the tomboyish exception off-screen" or "so straight he gets nervous around pretty girls" or "absolutely insane rizz in mixed company but abrasive personality when left alone with a girl" or even "secretly misogynist somehow." Because I think we're meant to read it in context as "Aster is jealous that Emil pulls bitches and Aster somehow isn't or can't pull bitches?" Aster you pulled the baddest bitch ever by landing Richter, shut up! XD He even brings up Rilena in the next line but not in a context that implies he misses her company or anything more direct like "I miss my wife, Richter." Regardless of what we're actually supposed to pull from this about Aster's relationship with Rilena, Aster is landing bitches, I guarantee it. The autism gets him mad bitches. Don't lie to me Rays. I know your word is technically canon, but you are wrong. The council has decided but the council is stupid and I'm ignoring it or whatever the meme is. If we're meant to pull from this that Aster is not a hit with the girls, you are daft, Rays. Because either you're trying to tell us that Rilena is the only girl Aster could pull and yet later imply that he still wants to ogle other women, or that Aster is available, adorkable, and NOT PULLING ANY GIRL HE WANTS. Like, I'm sorry, these are bot absurd to me. Whatever you say is law, Rays, but even if I didn't already ship Aster with Richter, I would absolutely be ignoring whatever this is. Aster could land anyone he wanted, change my mind.

Also, Richter has a long beat of silence after this implying that Aster/Rilena IS considered canon here, or that he's at least aware that Aster is straight. But that only redoubles what I said before. Why isn't Aster directly saying "I miss flirting with my fiance." or anything more direct? Because being vague about it makes it sound like he wants to CHEAT. I refuse to believe Bamco treats all men the same way they treat Zelos. Aster is not a fuckboy, like come on. Also the long beat of silence for Richter implying that the gay love is entirely unspoken and unrequited oof ouch.

(Feel free to argue with me or refute these ideas by the way, I am one nerd and I built these headcanons in a shed out of the tiny scraps of content we got drip-fed before Rays was even in development and it's been a while since I completed the game and my brain is a sieve at the best of times so, like. I am once again not trying to say my word is gospel here. I am saying I have opinions and I want to bang out the dents here and understand what they were going for so I can adopt the canon stuff I see fit and absolutely burn the rest. XD)

Also, I don't know how to feel about this.

If it was only this, I might soften up on Ratatosk a bit, making a "concession" to hide himself away while Richter helps Emil so that it doesn't bother Richter. But pulling this out now when Ratatosk is offscreen and can't explain himself, in fact, doing it behind Ratatosk's back so he specifically cannot speak for himself, almost cheapens the stuff from before where Richter guessed, and Ratatosk basically confirmed, that at least part of the reason he was hanging back and letting Emil do things was because Ratatosk trusted Emil to handle himself and was agreeing to let Emil handle things on his own.

Waiting to bring this back I think is meant to be a surprising reveal like "aw, Ratatosk does care!" but because it's not coming out of Ratatosk's mouth and because it's being delivered as a different and separate idea that is phrased as though it negates the idea that Ratatosk was hiding so Emil could do things on his own just... cheapens both reasons instead of consolidating both reasons as proof that Ratatosk cares about himself AND about others and he's willing to work with Emil and even Richter to do what's right for Marta and the team. I understand this is maybe a little picky of me because "He's not apologizing the way I want him to" is petty. But coming from Tenebrae who is saying this without Ratatosk asking him to, is it REALLY Ratatosk apologizing?

I know Tenebrae divulges that it's Ratatosk's pride that prevents him from apologizing directly, and I know Ratatosk outright tells Richter in a different Chapter of Rays not to forgive him and that he wants a rematch as a sort of subtle "I can't say it to your face, but I understand my rash actions in our original world were wrong, and you're right to be upset and you don't have to forgive me and I won't ever ask you to and I want you to be able to see us as Equal now that I understand you and see you as Equal (thus worthy of a rematch) but This Is Me reaching out and saying in my own way that I'm sorry and that I'm saying it, not because I want forgiveness but because I owe it to you that I acknowledge my mistakes. I need you to know that you made an impact and that I understand and that you are heard."

But Tenebrae apologizing on Ratatosk's behalf and putting words in his mouth is just... again, really cheap to me. I believe genuinely, in what the narrative is saying here, that Tenebrae says things on Ratatosk's behalf because Ratatosk is too proud to ever say it. But it means way more for Ratatosk to tell Richter to his face "Don't forgive me. Keep hating me. Let that hatred burn in your chest so we can fight again someday." than to have Tenebrae here like "by the way I want you to know that Ratatosk is actually sorry and he just won't say it so I am telling you that his explicit reason for not showing up while you were coaching Emil is not actually because he believes in Emil and wants Emil to win on his own merits, oh no, he actually cares about your feelings and won't say it. Please ignore that he showed up earlier to chew you out for not believing in Emil thereby ignoring both his stated purpose of supporting Emil by going around picking fights with you and my own stated reason that he's trying not to upset you with his presence."

Tangentially, the fact that Aster gets called by the title "Professor Laker" baffles me too. I'm sure it was explained in a different scene and I just don't remember or haven't seen it. I'm not saying he couldn't have earned it but the fact that they're implying he was already qualified in his own timeline and just died before getting the title is really sad.

Also they are straight-washing him so hard in my opinion. Like, yes it's not explicit in the game, not even in the JP version as far as I'm aware. But the fact that it mattered so little in the context of the DotNW game and now both Rays and Onshuu are trying to prove how VERY STRAIGHT ™️Aster is is just... really funny to me. But him being this much of a lecher about it is absolutely insane.

Granted I pegged him as a letch, but for Richter exclusively and that sat better with me because at least in that context, they would have mutually been interested in each other. Having Aster who is still implied, vaguely but still implied, to be with Rilena TRYING TO OGLE OTHER GIRLS IN THEIR BATHING SUITS?! Unacceptable. I am contextualizing this as gay-best-friend behavior because I otherwise cannot square this with what we've been shown about Aster before otherwise. Unless THIS is the reason that for some reason he can't get along with girls. Maybe he doesn't get that this kind of comes off a little skeevy to, like, not want to leave an area because you want to see your opposite-sex friends in their bathing suits. It would be different if they were hanging out or if it was a little more clear this was a friendly thing. But it comes so out of left-field for me here that it just... feels like they forgot they were writing Aster and not Zelos? This just sounds like something I would expect from Zelos, you know?

I can buy Aster as bisexual, really I can. I would even concede that even if it never got brought up in canon that Aster was meant to be straight and with Rilena. Heteronormativity. Me preferring him as Richter's gay boyfriend has nothing at all to do with the canon and straight characters are allowed to exist. But a lecherous creep to anyone but Richter or at the very least someone else who is clearly interested in him back? No. My man Aster is not Lupin III. This is not a guy that gets excited for girls in bathing suits. I refuse. I don't care if it's canon, Rays, you are lying to my face. Maybe I'm being hyperbolic but still.

Again, I'm not saying they aren't making a purposeful choice or are wrong here. It's their character, they can write him how they want. This is just a really unexpected way for them to characterize Aster and I kind of DO NOT vibe with it? Am I alone in this? I have just never gotten the vibe that Aster is the kind of guy who would actively announce that he really wants to see his female friends in bathing suits when he clearly has other places to be.

And I say this as someone who has absolutely based some of my headcanons of Aster's behavior, including guessing ahead of Onshuu that Aster would be adept with a gun, on Lupin. They both have a vibe of "No active thoughts but somehow still geniuses" in their own genres. But the lecher quality is 100% never something I would pin on Aster. This guy likes mischief and a good time but this man is NOT Zelos Wilder. Even if I buy that Aster likes, tits and coochie, this is not a man that gets all hyped to see his allies in bathing suits. This is a guy who downloads 18 petabytes of porn on the company laptop like a decent human. This is a guy who feasts his eyes on what others deign to show him of free will and never stoops to asking for it. I will buy that he's a horny teen trying to make the most of his second life. But I don't care that a brush with death would fuck a guy up. Aster is not a creep. This is not a funny haha quirk like with Zelos, Bamco. Don't slander my boy.

NOW THIS IS MY BOI. This is not a guy who wants to see free cleavage, even from the pancake squad. This is a guy who proudly proclaims he has no athletic prowess like it's a TALENT, grins like a dope and announces himself as the hostage to his captors, and APOLOGIZES TO HIS BESTFRIEND/BOYFRIEND FOR GETTING MURDERED. Aster telling Richter to shut up about his feelings during a serious discussion and then APOLOGIZING because he knows that even though it was necessary to keep Richter's feelings out of it that it was mean and that it's important for Richter to know that he DOES understand how his untimely death affected him.

Even with how much I just do not get about what they were going for with the DotNW squad in this event, this moment from Aster was so good. Especially because Richter calls him an idiot under his breath because it was already water under the bridge and he's just happy to be with Aster. Their chemistry is just so bang-on and cathartic to see. Richter hiding the fact that he's enjoying himself behind excuses of having to tag along with Aster. Aster bragging on his behalf about how Richter's actually a nice guy who cares about and is good at taking care of others, even if he doesn't show it. Aster demolishing junk food during his break and Richter calling him out on it later like "practically your whole day was a break, all you did was eat yakisoba." It can definitely be read as brotherly or even best-friend banter, but my god, to my shipping ass, that stuff smacks of romantic chemistry. I'm so weak to them. Honestly, Aster's such a good hype man for Richter that I bet if he hyped up Rata, I would like Rata more too.

Also goes without saying how Richter fucking apologized for Alice being a dick when it's not his fault and then agreed to help Emil train up to beat Decus even though he doesn't see himself as an expert. We have the two other skits where Richter admits that he doesn't see himself as an expert in most things and doesn't understand why others would come to him for sword training, either, and yet when Emil asks for help on that too, he also offers to coordinate so they can train together. I really love seeing that, though unspoken, Richter genuinely enjoys spending time with Emil and sees them as allies. I doubt he's forgiven Ratatosk. But because they have a sort of truce and Richter genuinely grew to like Emil over the course of their journeys, he doesn't seem to mind putting up with Ratatosk because Aster's safe and he enjoys Emil's company. Not to mention him trying to learn to cook later when he notices Emil needs it.

Bamco may have pulled a lot of unexpected stuff for this event, but I'm glad Richter's whole "doesn't want to be thought of as a mother hen but has THE MOST mother hen energy ever toward everybody but especially Emil" is, like, a consistent thing. They just keep delivering. I love this soft man so much.

So yeah, as much as I don't get the direction some of these interactions went in, still my favorite Rays event and forever salty that global fans never got swimsuit Richter and the official translations for all these delicious skits.

Honestly, though, I am a complete freak when it comes to anything Richter. Short of completely assassinating his character, I would enjoy anything and everything about him so I'm glad he got to shine as Emil's big supporter. He and Aster doing their utmost to help Emil win because Alice went out of her way to be a massive jerk is delightful.

And while it's uncomfy for Alice to call Decus a slave, even when it's not meant that way and even though Marta still lays her affection onto Emil way too thick, it's a genuinely great display of the DotNW characters' interpersonal dynamics, even if I am utterly baffled by and disagree with some of the choices.

Translated by Polka. Proofread by Aera and Seine. Video editing by Scarfy.

[growthhyp]

My grandpa left me this old necklace he's had in his family for years. It has "take what is rightfully yours" engraved in it. This big bodybuilder snatched it from me. What should I do?

Take What is Rightfully Yours

It had been a dreary few weeks since Grandpa had passed away, leaving behind a void in my heart that seemed impossible to fill. The old man had always been a beacon of wisdom, his weathered eyes reflecting a life lived to the fullest. Among the many treasures he had bequeathed to me, the most peculiar was an antique necklace, its metal cool to the touch, with an inscription that read, "Take what is rightfully yours." The words were etched with a firm, decisive hand, as if they held the power to unlock some great destiny. I had worn it every day since, the comfort of his final gift a constant reminder of the legacy he had entrusted to me.

Grandpa had always been an enigma in the realm of physicality. Despite his age, his muscles remained as robust as ever, a testament to a life of discipline and strength. He regaled me with tales of his youth, a time when he was not just a man, but a colossus among mortals. His biceps, the size of watermelons, could crack walnuts with ease. His chest, a wall of granite, had taken blows that would fell lesser men. His legs, sturdy as oak trees, had carried him through battles untold. If it weren't for the cruel embrace of cancer, he would have surely lived to see his hundredth birthday, a centurion of vitality and might.

Yet, as I grew up under his shadow, my own body took a different path. I was slender, almost frail in comparison, and my interests lay not in the pursuit of physical perfection but in the tender embrace of my own kind. I was gay, and while Grandpa's tales of his romantic conquests were entertaining, they were as foreign to me as the lands he had never seen. Nevertheless, I loved him, and in his final moments, he had a strange request for his grandson—a plea for me to embrace health and vitality, to live life with the same zest he had. And so, with a heavy heart and a newfound resolve.

Donning the necklace, I embarked on a journey that would take me to the one place I never thought I would find myself—the local gym. The smell of sweat and metal filled my nostrils as I cautiously stepped into the realm of the bodybuilders and fitness enthusiasts. The clank of weights and the grunts of exertion echoed through the hallowed halls, a stark contrast to the quiet whispers of poetry that usually filled my days. But Grandpa's wish was clear, and I was determined to honor it.

As I completed the enrollment forms, I couldn't help but steal glances at the Herculean figure in the corner, his muscles flexing with the grace of a ballet dancer performing an intricate routine of squats. Each descent was met with a thunderous thud, reverberating through the floor, a declaration of his dominance in this sanctum of strength. My eyes lingered on his posterior, the muscles so defined they looked like they had been sculpted by a master artist. The sight of it made me bite my lip, a warmth spreading through my cheeks and down to my groin. My cock stirred in my gym shorts, betraying my attraction despite my fear.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized the behemoth's eyes were on me, his gaze as intense as the gleaming dumbbells he wielded. I felt exposed, like a gazelle caught in the crosshairs of a lion. In a panic, I tore my gaze from the mirror and bolted for the locker room, the thud of his weights following me like a taunting drumbeat. Once inside, the safety of the cold tiles and the metallic scent of lockers grounded me. I changed into my workout gear, the necklace nestled against my chest a silent companion in my trepidation.

Emerging from the locker room, I cautiously surveyed the scene. The gym was a battleground of iron and sweat, a place where titans forged their bodies into weapons of beauty and power. The muscular man was still there, his eyes piercing me like the needle on a barbell, boring into my soul. I took a deep breath and forced myself to move, setting up at a chest press machine as far from him as possible. My research had told me to start with the basics, to build a foundation before attempting the grandeur of his domain. I set the weight to a modest fifty pounds, my fingers trembling as I gripped the handles.

My form was abysmal, a dance of awkwardness and inexperience. The bar descended with a clank, my chest barely moving, and I pushed with all my might, only to lift it a few inches before letting it drop with a pathetic thud.

As I lay there, panting and sweating, the room grew eerily silent. I dared a glance around, and my heart plummeted—everyone else had left. The gym that had been a cacophony of grunts and clanking weights was now a desolate expanse of chrome and rubber. The towering bodybuilder still loomed, his eyes never leaving me, his massive frame seeming to have moved closer without a sound.

"You like what you see?" he sneered, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "You little faggot."

I felt the color drain from my cheeks as the muscular giant approached, his hand outstretched. His grip was like steel, and before I could react, he had yanked the necklace from around my neck, the chain digging into my skin. The air grew thick with tension, my heart racing as I stared into the abyss of his furious gaze. I had always been shy, often a target for bullies in school, but something about the way he spoke to me, the way he grabbed my grandpa's necklace, ignited a fire within me. A fire that burned brighter than any fear I had ever felt.

"What the fuck is this?" he snarled, his breath hot against my face. I could smell the testosterone and aggression that rolled off him in waves, but I also noticed something else—fear. He was scared of what he didn't understand, of the power that lay dormant in the simple piece of jewelry.

"Give it back," I repeated, my voice stronger this time. I reached up and grabbed the necklace, the metal warm from his touch. Our fingers tangled, the necklace stretching taut between us. His grip was unyielding, but so was my resolve. I felt the whispers of my grandpa's spirit, urging me to stand my ground.

As our eyes locked, a sudden, brilliant light enveloped us, blinding in its intensity. I stumbled back, the necklace burning in my grip. The world around us faded, and all I could hear was the thunderous echo of my own heartbeat. The muscular man's expression morphed from anger to confusion, then to fear as his body began to tremble. The light grew brighter, and we both realized that something was happening—something beyond our control.

"What the fuck is going on?" he yelled, his voice cracking with terror.

I couldn't move, but the whisper grew louder, clearer, "Take what is rightfully yours." It was as if the necklace itself was speaking to me, guiding me, urging me.

My mind raced, connecting the dots that had been scattered before. Grandpa's unnatural vitality, his insistence on my wearing the necklace, and now this… It had to be magic. A power that had been passed down from generation to generation, waiting for someone worthy to wield it.

With a deep breath, I focused all my energy on the necklace. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and the bodybuilder's grip on the necklace tightened. I pictured his bubble butt in my mind's eye, the roundness, the firmness, the way it jiggled with each step he took. The very essence of his muscularity started to pulse through the chain, and as the thought grew more vivid, so did the sensation. I could feel the flesh of my own backside swelling, the fabric of my shorts stretching taut as my glutes grew tauter, fuller.

The pleasure grew more intense, and with it, so did the anger in the bodybuilder's voice. "What the fuck did you do to me, you faggot?" he roared, his once mighty body now a shadow of its former self. His rage was palpable, but it only served to fuel my own burgeoning power. The necklace grew hot in our grasp, the metal glowing faintly with the energy that surged through us both.

With a smug smile, I met his gaze, reveling in the newfound confidence that seemed to radiate from the very pores of my new body. "It seems Grandpa's gift has given me a way to even the playing field," I said, my voice now a deep, rumbling bass that seemed to resonate within the very walls of the gym. The bodybuilder's eyes widened in horror as he realized the full extent of my control over his form.

I took a moment to savor the power that surged through me, the necklace pulsing like a second heartbeat at my throat. The whispers grew more insistent, feeding my imagination with images of the bodybuilder's former glory, the very essence of his masculinity. I focused on the bulge in his shorts, the symbol of his dominance in this realm of flesh and steel. As the thought grew more intense, I felt a strange, almost electrical sensation shooting through my own groin. His bulge grew smaller, his shorts now hanging loosely around his hips, exposing the sad truth of his current state.

The pleasure was indescribable, a symphony of sensations that seemed to resonate with every fiber of my being. Our moans grew louder, filling the deserted gym with the music of transformation. My own bulge grew more pronounced, pushing against the fabric of my shorts until it was as prominent as the one I had just stolen from him. I reveled in the feeling, my cock swelling with power, a silent declaration of victory in our silent, strange dance of theft and humiliation.

The bodybuilder's face was a mask of rage, his once proud gaze now a glare of pure hatred. "You'll pay for this," he spat, his voice now higher, reedier, a stark contrast to the bass rumble that now filled my own chest. "When I get out of this, you'll wish you had never laid eyes on me."

A wicked grin spread across my face as I thought of the ultimate retribution—to take not just his muscles, but his very essence. I closed my eyes and envisioned the process in my mind's eye, the necklace a conduit for the transfer of power. His body would shrink, his muscles dissolving like sugar in hot water, leaving behind the frail, skinny shell of the man he must have been before his transformation. Meanwhile, I would grow, my skin stretching tight over newfound bulk, filling out my once-slender frame with the might of a thousand lifts.

The whispers grew to a crescendo, and with it, the power surging through me. My chest expanded, the fabric of my shirt straining until it split down the middle, revealing the beginnings of a six-pack that looked as if it were chiseled from stone. Each abdominal muscle grew more pronounced, the crevice between them deepening like the grooves in the neck of a violin. The bodybuilder's eyes widened in horror as he watched my transformation unfold before him, his grip on the necklace weakening as his own body betrayed him.

My shoulders swelled like boulders rising from the earth, my biceps bulging with newfound might. The veins in my arms stood out like cords of steel, each flex revealing the horseshoe shape of my triceps, my forearms thickening with power. My back grew wider, the lats spreading like the wings of a bat, giving me a v-taper that would make any tailor weep with envy. My legs, once slender and unassuming, grew into mighty tree trunks, the muscles in my calves popping like over-inflated balloons, my feet bulging in their newfound girth.

The necklace grew hotter, the whispers more demanding. The bodybuilder's moans grew weaker, his once-proud physique shrinking before my eyes. His shorts fell to the floor, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that clung to his shriveling frame. The rage in his eyes was replaced by a mix of pleasure and despair, a silent testament to the power of the magic that flowed between us. The fabric of my own clothes strained, threatening to tear as my body continued to grow, my new form pushing against the confines of the fabric.

With the necklace tight in our grasp, I focused on the one thing that had truly made the bodybuilder who he was—his unshakeable confidence and swagger. I pictured the way he had strutted through the gym, his chest puffed out like a peacock's tail, his hips rolling with the grace of a panther. The cockiness that had once irritated me now seemed like the very essence of power. I reached out with my mind, plucking at the threads of his ego, drawing them into myself like a spider spinning a web. His grip on the necklace loosened, his body trembling as the last vestiges of his dominance were ripped away.

As the transfer occurred, the air grew thick with the scent of sweat and desperation. His once-booming voice grew high and reedy, his swagger diminished to a feeble shuffle. The muscles that had defined his frame melted away, leaving him a mere shadow of his former self. His cock, once a proud declaration of his masculinity, grew limp and small within the confines of his briefs. Meanwhile, my own confidence surged, filling me with a newfound sense of purpose. The smirk that had once been foreign to my face grew more natural, a permanent fixture of my new identity.

I could feel the power of his dominance flowing into me, filling my veins with the same unshakeable confidence that had made him the gym's alpha. His anger and frustration only served to fuel my own transformation, the pleasure of the experience making me dizzy. We both moaned and grunted, our bodies responding to the shifting tides of power. My own cock grew harder than it had ever been, a testament to the raw masculine energy that now surged through me.

The bodybuilder's eyes grew wide as he watched his former strength and confidence being siphoned away. His once-booming voice grew softer, his posture slumping as the weight of his defeat settled upon his shoulders. He was no longer the towering giant that had struck fear into the hearts of all who looked upon him. In his place stood a man reduced to a mere echo of what he had been, his eyes pleading for mercy that I had no intention of granting.

The whispers grew softer, the magic waning as the last vestiges of his power were absorbed into my own being. My chest swelled with pride, my cock straining against the fabric of my briefs, demanding to be released. The bodybuilder's own cock, once a symbol of his dominance, had shrunken to a pitiful nub, the fabric of his boxer briefs tenting outward pathetically.

His voice cracked with defeat as he begged for mercy. "Please," he whimpered, his eyes brimming with tears. "Give me back my body, please."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his pleading. The irony of his situation was delicious, and I savored every moment of it. The power thrumming through me was like nothing I had ever felt before. I was the predator now, the one holding all the cards, and he was the prey, reduced to a trembling mess. But there was still one piece of the puzzle that had eluded me—his confidence and swagger. That was the essence of what made him a man to be feared and desired in this place. And if I wanted to truly be his equal, I needed it for myself.

"Your body, your confidence, your swagger… all of it is mine now," I said, my voice a deep, resonant bass that seemed to shake the very air. "And as for your pathetic little cock…" I couldn't help but chuckle. "It's the least of what you've lost."

The bodybuilder's eyes flickered with a spark of anger, but it was quickly extinguished by the reality of his situation. He knew he was at my mercy. With a casual flick of my wrist, I sent him stumbling backward, his legs no longer able to support the weight of his deflated muscles. He landed on the gym floor with a pitiful thud, his once-intimidating form now reduced to a trembling wreck.

I turned to the mirror, my gaze raking over my new, muscular body. The red briefs that had once clung to my skinny frame now struggled to contain the vast expanses of my newfound muscles. I flexed my arms, watching in amazement as the veins in my forearms bulged and danced. The reflection staring back at me was that of a god, a true embodiment of power and beauty. The whispers grew faint, but the warmth of the necklace against my skin reminded me of the promise it held.

"Thanks, Grandpa," I murmured, feeling a tear trickle down my cheek. The necklace grew cooler, the magic seeming to acknowledge my gratitude. I knew that with this power came a responsibility to carry on the legacy that had been passed down to me.

[nostalgiachan]

Sorry if this sounds a tad bit personal but how did you manage upon well... the oger team?

Like did you know them before tts?

Since it's been many moons since I last answered this question, I'll regale you with the tale:

It was long ago in a distant land - aka thirteen years ago at a stream I used to work for called DatStream. A bunch of the viewers there were Warhammer 40k fans, and I got introduced to a bunch of the lore and memes via one of the regulars asking me to do some (tame) art of Slaanesh and the Noise Marines. I thought Slaanesh's whole deal was cool (an evil god of art and music? RAD), so I started reading up more on my own. Eventually, said folks also shared a series of videos called The Boreale Cast, wherein some Swedish kid and a bunch of his Steam friends would play games and share goofy stories about essentially their 40k OCs getting up to shenanigans, which I found pretty funny. Since I was now slowly immersing myself in the greater 40k mysteries, I decided to subscribe.

(I joined the Alfa Legion's Steam group, as well, but when my first experience of their chat was one of the moderators banning everyone because FUNNY, I decided I didn't have the patience for that, lol)

Then one day, aforementioned Swedish kid, Alfabusa, put out a video saying they were looking for voice actresses for a game they were making, Tales of the Alfa Legion: The Screaming Night. At that time, most of my voice acting experience was reading bad fanfic live on stream, but I'd recently done a little stage acting for the first time with my college's theater troupe, so I was feeling a little confident. After all, worst they could say was no, right?

So, I tried out...and I got the part! I'd be playing Jet Ambustio, Sister of Battle. Thus was I brought into the Alfa Legion Veterans Skype chat. Unfortunately, the game was never really finished, though I believe Eliphus at least got it into a playable state at some point. I designed a whole boss fight character and everything (shoutouts to anybody who's been here since the days of Nost Algia, Slaaneshi Hospitaller), so I was bummed.

But while that didn't pan out, what did end up happening was Alfa made a little one-off short called If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device because he wanted to make a joke about how the then-recently released Dreadknights were dumb, but the Centurions were adorable. And when that video became surprisingly popular, he made another one. And then he made a third, where he asked me if I'd play Alicia Dominica.

And now, here we are eleven years later.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: Frank and Hazel telling stories they’ve heard while at Camp Jupiter. Just these silly and sometimes insane tales from the centurions.

Jason fills in some of the gaps and gives context here and there. And Frank’s like wow Jason were you there for this?

And Jason’s smiles sheepishly and says “oh that was me.”

[comma-tose]

Fiona being able to buy Rhys an arm casing is one of my favourite little things in Tales.

One arm casing costs as much as an entire outfit for her and she'll still buy it for him and he will immediately accept it.

Rhys' whole thing was that before the events of Tales he was completely loyal to Hyperion, and then obviously they turned on him after everything happened, but he still has the Hyperion arm on him. A mark that reminds him of his literal attachment to Hyperion, and Fiona can choose to help remove that from him, and he will happily accept it.

The original Hyperion arm even has the description saying that it's one of the best ways of showing your commitment to Hyperion, and so I like to think that by removing it and letting Fiona buy him a new one he's removing that commitment a bit more in his mind and aligning himself more with her (like with the trust Jack or trust Fiona moments).

I also really like the arm casings she can choose to buy him. Both the arms she can buy him are designed specifically to look good.

The first one is the black arm, "Cyberpunk'd" which does look great, and it matches his jacket with blue accents to match his shirt, quite literally having "Color Combination bonus!" as part of its description. So if she picks that one she's been thoughtful and tried to make it fit with the rest of his outfit and make it look good.

But my personal favourite is the red arm. The "Silver Centurion". And why is that one my favourite?

It's Atlas. Or at least designed to appear Atlas-like in design.

Given that Rhys eventually becomes the CEO of Atlas it seems most fitting for him, but I absolutely love that despite Atlas being a rival corporation to Hyperion, Rhys still immediately accepts it from Fiona. That's a middle finger to Hyperion if I've ever seen one (Red is also Fiona's signature colour which fuels the Rhyiona thoughts for me a little bit more✨).

My personal headcanon is that every time Rhys looks at his Atlas arm in Borderlands 3 he thinks of Fiona buying him the one in Tales and he's reminded of her. After all, Rhys WILL remember that.

...also with both of the arms being described as "head turning" or "attractive" Fiona definitely has an agenda 👀

[lady-quen]

Character inspiration meme: Numen / Arnfinn Astrasson! Been wanting to do this for a while but it's difficult for me to pinpoint specific inspirations sometimes, especially when there's many and some are vague. Anyway, explanations time:

(Keep in mind there are going to be spoilers for the media these characters are from, if applicable, and especially MASSIVE spoilers for Tales of Symphonia 2's main twist!)

1 - Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World - Emil Castagnier/Ratatosk - A timid boy whose parents have been killed by Lloyd Irving - or, more accurately, a villain masquerading as him. He believes himself weak and cowardly, wishing for the strength and courage to protect that which is dear to him. His wish is granted when he forges a pact with the Centurion of Darkness to become a Knight of Ratatosk, the lord of monsters. A creature who isn't necessarily evil, but rather a force of nature.

It is eventually revealed that Emil was never a real person, instead a fabricated personality created by Ratatosk to escape the man who sought to kill him. Believing mortals to be a blight destroying the planet, Ratatosk expressed a desire to rid the world of them, and killed the researcher Aster in cold blood - earning the ire of Richter, Aster's fellow scientist and dear friend. Wounded and desperate to survive, Ratatosk copied Aster's appearance, and sealed away his memories to live an inconspicuous life as a mortal in the city of Palmacosta.

Faced with the horrible truth, Emil, who had grown to love the world, struggles against his true identity and eventually convinces Ratatosk to spare mortals and atone.

Emil's journey mirrors that of Arnfinn, a young norn with an unnatural talent for ice magic who one day finds himself the cuckoo-child of the Ice Dragon, a being of mist forced to abduct a child and copy their body and voice. To grow up surrounded by love and loving in turn, cherishing the very mortals whom he will one day be made to doom. To spirit them away, into the coldest starless sleep, so that the few chosen may one day wake to see the dawn of a next Cycle.

Existing as a gift to this world, to show the mortals they are truly loved, and that ice only seeks to fortify and protect them. A philosophy they at last defy, choosing to advocate for the people and fight against their nature instead.

Despite being quite the tranquil creature, Numen is often seen crying. And yet, the tears that stream from their sockets are no longer ones of cowardice and fear, but merely compassion to the point of pain.

2 - To Your Eternity - Fushi - a shapeshifter sent down by a divine being to accumulate experience and protect the world. Their true form is an orb, a core from which they can assume the forms of objects and creatures that had left a strong enough impression to stimulate their shifting ability. There is a catch, however, as they can only copy the form of living beings once they die. As such, Fushi ends up using the forms of friends who have passed on, cherishing their memories greatly. I did not read the manga and have a vague idea of later events, but Numen and Fushi's outlooks on death and mortality vary significantly.

Though the child of Jormag mourns the short lives of mortals, they understand that to live forever is to inevitably lose one's heart and become detached from compassion. As such, even when granted the choice to break their cyclic nature, they choose to continue living out mortal lives each Cycle, allowing each of their avatars to pass on naturally. Embracing the beauty of brevity and diversity, and making the most of each existence together with their Champion, Stig, who reincarnates, though does not keep his memories.

3 - Final Fantasy: Unlimited - White Cloud / Kumo - the last Misterian and bearer of the Demon Sword Maken, counterpart to Black Wind / Kaze's Demon Gun. An immortal characterized by his ability to breathe Mist, a substance born from his very essence. As one of the two Unlimited, cosmic "chosen beings" destined to combat the evil elder god Chaos who feeds on the negative energy of sentient life. He presumably cannot truly die unless the sword that houses his soul is destroyed.

Despite his stoic, nigh emotionless exterior tempered by a grim duty, Kumo is a gentle, caring man, whose upbringing as a prince back on his homeworld left him clueless in many mundane situations. At his core, he wishes only to protect all life and especially their right to feel emotion and express themselves freely, knowing that ultimately, there can be no positive emotion without the flip side of negativity.

A notable motif and ability Numen and Kumo share is their connection to mist, allowing them to control its flow as well as hold vast amounts of it inside their bodies to exhale at will, covering an entire area in dense fog. Kumo can also summon as well as become a Sword Dragon, a serpentine creature with centipede legs and a blade for a snout. Kumo is one of my roleplay muses whom I write occasionally (though his blog is currently on hiatus.)

4 - The Ice Dragon - (titular character) - this is a bit of a special case since my memory on the finer details is very hazy, but it spawned a lifelong fascination with ice dragons, so naturally it belongs here.

An Ice Dragon, a terrible beast of legend, bonded to the young girl Adara who seemingly cannot feel emotion. She's the only one allowed to ride upon its back, and eventually, the kingdom she hails from comes under attack by the terrible Fire Dragons. It is only through the courage and sacrifice of the Ice Dragon that they are repelled, though afterwards the frozen beast is nowhere to be found: instead, a lake with forever icy waters mysteriously appears.

The death of the Ice Dragon thaws Adara's heart, finally allowing her to feel emotion like any other child.

I think my biggest fascination which came from this book is the juxtaposition of ice as something cold and unfeeling to a creature who finds a way to love and care despite its very nature. In the end, the bond, too, seemed detrimental by taking away Adara's ability to feel, and the dragon's death releasing her from this curse feels somberly symbolic.

These descriptions I found in particular hit deeply for Numen, and their mortal avatars:

They said it was the chill of that terrible freeze that had killed her mother, stealing in during her long night of labor past the great fire that Adara’s father had built, and creeping under the layers of blankets that covered the birthing bed. And they said that the cold had entered Adara in the womb, that her skin had been pale blue and icy to the touch when she came forth, and that she had never warmed in all the years since. The winter had touched her, left its mark upon her, and made her its own.

She was a very serious little girl who seldom cared to play with the others. She was beautiful, people said, but in a strange, distant sort of way, with her pale skin and blond hair and wide clear blue eyes.

Adara’s father: “The winter is in her, you know. Whenever I touch her I feel the chill…I loved her best of all, my little winter child. But she has never loved back. There is nothing in her for me, or you, any of us. She is such a cold little girl.”

The cold had never bothered her…

In Numen's case, they are born as Jormag's love for the world, something that caused them pain and that they chose to excise from themself in favor of embracing the ruthless, methodical and manipulative persona of the Elder Dragon of Ice. A beast that chooses to protect the world in their own way, but no longer cares about individual lives, trampling over mortals in their quest for preservation. They become stagnant, unchanging, as though afraid of being proven wrong in their own philosophy. A philosophy Numen dares to challenge, always questioning the meaning of being brought into this world as Love incarnate yet forced to help destroy that which they love. Born to a parent who bore them as a tool, a vessel for their own pain, rather than a child - instead of compassion, only ever offered the release of emotionless cold to soothe their awakenings, and amnesia to soothe their dreams.

When awakening as a mortal, Numen always possesses an ethereal sort of beauty, even if their physical form is not particularly beautiful in its own right. They always have a light shade of skin and light hair, as well as striking blue eyes - all their traits are copied from a mortal child, and yet it is unknown whether they simply choose a child with such traits, or develop them off of the template. In norn fairytales, it is said that it is the children with blue eyes and light hair that are most vulnerable to being abducted by the beings of Frost - and once Arnfinn is found, he is cold, and believed to have been touched and cursed by ice.

Despite this, he is the warmest person you'll ever know. A bleeding heart, a loving, gentle spirit - up until the Dragon stirs in the North, and sends ripples into their scion's soul. Arnfinn finds himself growing colder, plagued by visions, until one day he disappears and by the time he is found again by the Commander's party - his skin is as pale as death and hair as white as snow, for he had finally come to embody the truth of what he is.

A curse that is broken with the fall of Jormag, just as no winter can last forever, and Finn's soft heart returns. Though he is a creature born of ice, he is also the herald of the coming spring, a gentle winter that always embraces its own end, and never attempts to overstay its own welcome. He is the harbinger of nature's deep slumber and subsequent revival, a voice in the mist that carries only birdsong, never lies.

5 - Norse Mythology - Freyja - A goddess associated with love, beauty, fertility, sex, war, gold, and seiðr (magic for seeing and influencing the future). She is the owner of the necklace Brísingamen, and assists other gods by lending them her cloak of falcon feathers (hamr) which allows them to shapeshift into birds.

One of her animal motifs is the cuckoo, as is Numen's - even falsely assumed to be the Cuckoo Spirit, patron of Guidance and the Hearth. Through their love for the world, Cuckoo is known to help those lost in the wild find their way back home, as well as help find misplaced items. Cuckoo will assist in finding anything that has been lost, as long as the intentions of the one searching are pure and no harm will come to the one being found.

Their totem shows them with their wings cast downward in a warding gesture, and a warhorn held in one talon - symbolizing the voice of the coming spring which must be followed to find one's way. Their head is turned sideways, with the left eye looking upon the home hearth and the right turned towards the wilderness. Nowadays, Numen bears a scar running over their uppermost right eye, the Eye of the Wild having become cracked once their bond to Jormag was severed. A trinket associated with Cuckoo is the Brisingamen; a small carving of the bird imbued with a little bit of magic from the hearth of the Great Hall, a blessing believed to ensure a norn would always find their way back home.

In truth, Numen utilizies the bodies of many different birds when asleep, not only cuckoos - even overriding the control of other Spirits, though always unintentionally. They use them to send omens, assist in divination, as well as guide the lost. A benevolent influence that subsides completely once Numen wakens, without any memories of the past, and assumes mortal form.

The hamr cloak is something Numen bestows upon their Champion, allowing them to shapeshift into birds as well as see through the eyes of birds.

Additionally, Numen's previous, jötun avatar was named Freyja.

6 - Monster Hunter - Barioth - a visual inspiration for Numen's body plan and movements. Though they possess an additional pair of arms, they walk on their wingarms, creating an illusion of a wyvern. If I were to describe their anatomy quickly, I would say they are a mix of Barioth and the 2010 Alice in Wonderland movie's Jabberwocky.

They possess serrated claws that afford stable grip on slippery surfaces, a stark contrast to Arnfinn who takes a while to learn not to slip on his own conjured ice. The scion moves with feline grace, nonetheless possessing brutal strength, their hulking body much more massive than that of Aurene and front paws capable of delivering crushing blows, especially in a divebomb.

There is also, admittedly, a pun involved, since the Barioth subspecies pictured above is the Frostfang Barioth. Frostfang is but another of Numen's many names, given by the norn after the famous bout with Asgeir Dragonrender. Though they were seemingly killed by a vicious blow to the neck, Frostfang ultimately survived by siphoning the strength of Ox, Eagle and Wolverine, going back into slumber and helping to guide the norn on Jormag's orders towards the site where Hoelbrak was then established - their influence attributed to the false Spirit, Cuckoo.

The icy remains believed to belong to them are but another Champion, or perhaps a Claw of Jormag, slain by Dragonrender in the great battle.

There is definite irony in Asgeir getting to confront his old foe once more after Jormag awakens again, this time as a spirit channeled by the revenant Stig - Arnfinn's childhood friend. Instead of finishing the fight, however, a more peaceful solution is found, and the boy once thought to be the Norn of Prophecy eventually becomes the Champion of Ice and Love.

When asked by the spirit of the norn hero to tell the story of his defeat during the Norn Exodus at the Great Hall, Finn admits he doesn't remember, but still excitedly affirms Asgeir's legend. Though Numen themself is a shapeshifter and could easily remove it, the scion chooses to keep the scar upon their neck as a mark of a fateful yet prized encounter - the norn wouldn't be quite the same without it, after all, and they are simply happy to have helped.

[pattyaifread]

Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World - Hatenai Omoi Vol. 2, Richter Abend Excerpts

I translated the first and last parts of Richter's chapter in the second volume of Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World - Feelings Without End by Sara Yajima.

The chapter begins post-game with Richter alone in Ginnungagap, and he starts to reminisce about the time he spent with Aster. The novel covers up from just before the time he got captured and locked away in the Research Academy, up to Aster's death.

Occasionally, he felt a throbbing sensation on his forehead. Richter Abend lightly touched the spot with his fingers, reaffirming that Ratatosk’s core was implanted there. It had been some time since the Summon Spirit Ratatosk had left Ginnungagap, and although the strange sensation hadn’t disappeared, he was now used to it.

Just how much time had passed since then?

Ratatosk split his body from his core and returned to that world as Emil Castagnier, and should be spending his time as a short-lived human alongside Marta Lualdi and their friends. Perhaps this throbbing sensation is responding to Emil’s feelings, Richter thought.

He knew it was a little too convenient to think that Ratatosk living as Emil was making up for what should have been Aster’s life. However, that thought was the only solace for Richter who was sealed inside Ginnungagap as a human sacrifice, and had to live with the core.

Nothing happened in this place. The flow of time couldn’t be felt. Even the demons from Niflheim were silent.

“A thousand years.” Ratatosks’s voice rose to his mind. “It will take a thousand years to separate mana from all living beings on this planet. After mana is no longer needed to support this world, the remaining mana will be used to create a new seal. I’ll release you then.”

I suppose it’s an offer I should be grateful for considering I sold my soul to demons and tried to destroy the world.

Richter’s lips curved into a smile at the edges, and as he gazed at the dark space spreading out before him, he recalled his best friend.

They had read books together, devoted their all to research, fiercely debated with one another, and had shared bread on their travels together. Aster was carefree and never discriminated against him, and in the end all that was left behind was a cold corpse.

Aster… Even once I’m released, you won’t exist in the world that I return to…

Richter wondered what that foolishly good-natured Aster would think of him spending a thousand years in the place of his death, and quietly closed his eyes.

※

—---------

After they enter Ginnungagap

“Richter!” Aster called for Richter. “Look. Over there.”

Richter followed Aster’s line of sight, and there he saw a being looking down upon them. Aster took one step towards it.

“Aster…”

Aster signaled it would be okay and made a fist, and swallowed hard while nodding. “You’re Ratatosk, the Summon Spirit of the Great Kharlan Tree, right?” His shaking voice seemed to reach the being.

“Some have called me by that name.” Ratatosk’s voice was deep and rattled the air. Those on the other side of the door reacted to that voice and became boisterous.

Richter took notice that Ratatosk’s gaze was fixed above them, and moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Aster. “Ratatosk,” Richter called out as he gazed upon the Summon Spirit, “right now, the flow of mana in the world is out of balance and is in a state of chaos. We believe that to restore that balance, your power is needed.”

“Even if I restore the balance, the world will once again fall into chaos without a tree,” Ratatosk coldly stated.

“We heard that a new tree was born!” Aster started speaking again, this time with a firm voice. “But from what we researched, the spirit of the new tree doesn’t have the power to control the flow of mana like you do.”

“Hmph. And?”

“I beg of you! Please use the Centurions to restore the balance of mana in the world! If you do, the world will be saved!”

There was a momentary silence. Then suddenly, the Summon Spirit’s voice boomed. “Awaken, Centurions! Form pacts with monsters, and restore the balance of mana. And then eradicate humanity who destroyed my tree!”

W-what?!

Richter doubted his ears.

“W-what on earth are you saying!” Aster went white as a sheet.

“I thought you wanted to save the world?”

“Why do you have to kill people to do that?!” Aster picked a fight with the Summon Spirit.

Ratatosk became furious at his words. The room trembled with his next words. “Who was it who destroyed the Great Kharlan Tree?! Humans and half-elves, that’s who! So I’ll destroy them in return!”

“B-but a new World Tree was born!” Aster replied frantically.

“And in time you’ll destroy it once more. Your kind are nothing but parasites to this world!”

“That’s not true!” Aster looked hurt, and continued to frantically appeal. “Humans and half-elves are an important part of this world, and—”

This is bad, Richter thought. At that very moment—

“Silence!” Ratatosk’s callous voice roared.

?!?!

Richter saw white fly by at the edge of his vision. Aster was hit by the full brunt of Ratatosk’s power, and went flying. He crashed down against the floor violently, and continued to tumble. By the time his body had stopped rolling, all Richter saw a white lump that was twisted unnaturally, and Aster was no longer moving.

“Aster?!” Richter yelled out, wide-eyed.

“See? The death of one parasite had no effect on the world.”

“Aster?!” Richter approached Aster unsteadily. Why was he yelling for him even though he knew it was too late? Even though nothing would change in the world? His feet stopped.

“Aster… Aster.” Richter turned to look behind him. “You bastard! How could you… How dare you do that to Aster!”

Richter grabbed his sword and axe as the blood rushed to his head. He rushed towards the Summon Spirit.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!”

Ratatosk recoiled at the sword raised high. The sharp edge of the blade cut into the Summon Spirit. “Guh!”

If I kill Ratatosk, the world will fall into ruin. Richter realized this fact, but it mattered not.

“How dare you do that to Aster! Mortal Summer!”

Flames burst out from the swinging axe and raced across the floor in the space between him and Ratatosk. However, it had no effect on the spirit.

“Dammit!”

He threw his axe and it cut through Ratatosk’s leg and lodged into the floor. Taking that chance, Richter grabbed his sword with both arms and raised it above his head. “Towering Inferno!”

It didn’t matter who his opponent was. He went on the attack against Ratatosk who was blinded by the dizzying light. 

But then at the perfect timing— “Ain Soph Aur!”—Ratatosk sent the axe flying and retaliated.

“Aghhhhh!!!!” Richter felt like his body would break into pieces upon impact, but scraped together all his remaining power for one last attack.

I don’t care if I die. Aster was already killed like some bug!

“Tch!” Ratatosk clicked his tongue at the tenacious half-elf.

On the verge of insanity and death, Richter raised his sword once more above his head as it gleamed. Through the violent bursts of light, he had just barely glimpsed Ratatosk’s figure bending back. When the light faded, the spirit was nowhere to be seen.

“Where… did you go…” Richter was breathing heavily and collapsed to his knees. He then noticed a shining red gem rolling on the floor.

What… is that? Don’t tell… me… that’s… Rata…tosk? The sound of blood gushing out felt like it would tear apart his eardrums. He crouched down for a moment.

Aster!

He started to crawl towards Aster with a desperate look on his face.

…Aster!!

A blue figure passed by several times overhead. Richter didn’t notice that Centurion Aqua was there at all. She hid herself in the darkness. “As..ter…”

He finally grasped the edge of that white coat. With a sliver of hope, Richter looked up towards that twisted body. However, with a pale face and closed eyes, Aster was unmoving.

“I always figured I’d hand it all over to you once you eventually left the Research Academy and went out into the world.” “I want to entrust everything to you, Richter. When I die, please make sure my research lives on.” “Rather than interactive, it’s more like circulation!”

Whose voices were those? It echoed repeatedly in his head, causing pain. “Rata…tosk… I’ll never… forgive you!”

Richter picked up the gem—Ratatosk’s core—and though he lacked knowledge surrounding it, he knew he should destroy it.

While holding Aster up, he thought to go grab the core, but his consciousness was already dim due to the wound. Even so, he struggled with all his might to support his body, but just sitting up was his limit.

Suddenly, a black shadow jumped out of midair.

What?!

The black shadow swiftly grabbed the core in its mouth and ran off into the darkness.

“D-damn… it… Augh!”

When he looked down, he noticed that Aster’s white clothes had been dyed crimson in his arms.

Everything was over. Richter had finally understood that. He would never come back to life. Knowing that, he couldn’t contain his cries. Using the remainder of his life, he wanted to become empty.

“Aster! Aster! ASTER!!”

Richter slanted over and collapsed onto the floor as his screams continued reverberating.

※

Just how long had he immersed himself in memories of Aster?

Whether it was only for an instant, or for a year or even ten, it made no difference to his current predicament. When he opened his eyes, the unchanging view of Ginnungagap spread out before him. If he had been left like that, he no doubt would have lost his life, he recalled.

By the time he came to, Centurion Aqua was staring at him worriedly. “It’s all my fault for taking you there in the first place…”

She had taken Richter, who was on the verge of death, to a safe place and nursed him back to health. She had greatly lamented the death of Richter’s friend, and mourned. So she had listened to his story, and opened her heart to him. Richter made contact with the demons, and exchanged a contract with them: “If you open the door to the demonic realm, Aster will be revived.” Aqua of the eight Centurions betrayed the Summon Spirit Ratatosk, and chose to work together with Richter.

Richter gave Solum’s core that he had received from the demons to Brute, the leader of the Sylvaranti Liberation Front, and in return received a high ranking in the Vanguard’s troops.

The Summon Spirit Ratatosk was the face of Richter’s revenge–a face stolen from Aster. And now, he had given his body to that very same Summon Spirit and was spending a thousand years in the place where Aster had been killed. Richter had begun to gradually think he was finally making peace with everything.

I wonder what Emil is up to now.

He wondered if Emil was forging his own path forward together with Marta.

Richter had a secret hope that he would never dare voice.

He hoped that once Emil saw his life through as a human, that he would return to this place in Emil’s form. If it was Emil in old age, then perhaps he would be able to get a glimpse of Aster’s life, who he should have watched over. If it was the sixteen year old Emil… Richter let out a faint laugh. It seemed like something Ratatosk would do. He wouldn’t mind spending a thousand years here in that case.

He would gladly repay that kindness for the sake of the world that gave birth to Aster and allowed them to meet. He prayed to be able to once again research day in and out alongside Aster once he was released. He knew it was impossible, but that feeling revived in Richter’s chest again and again, carrying him away to those nostalgic days.

He heard giggling as he began to space out again. He cleared his throat. Once again, there were giggles.

Centurion Aqua and Centurion Tenebrae—they dispersed to escape at that moment. He wasn’t able to see them, but he could sense them. Those two, along with the rest of the Centurions, were busy controlling monsters and working on separating mana from the world, but occasionally they would return and tease Richter. It was their own form of consideration.

Richter put his hand against the core on his forehead. He was looking forward to hearing about Ratatosk’s happy travels as a human. Richter believed that somewhere in there, he would find proof that Aster was still alive.

End

Flashback quotes:

The first one is after the worlds were merged, and half-elves were released. The line is from Richter, who never thought he'd be able to leave. The second one is from Aster, when he's lamenting he only has so many more decades left as a human, and wishes he could continue to research for eternity. (This is just before they enter Ginnungagap) (Sorry kid).

The third one is Rilena, talking about the relationship between Aster and Richter and how well they've been able to get along. They're using scientific terms here rather than normal terms to describe human relationships, in terms of humans and half-elves getting along, so out of context it doesn't make much sense. But she's saying that they built a really well relationship, to the point she's even a little jealous of it.

[voidsentprinces]

Fandaniel: Tell me of your past, my lord!

Zenos: Very well...I was raised in Garlemald. Until I was of age enough to go on campaign. Whereby, my great grandsire threw me out of Garlemald and into Doma for I was, to quote, "scaring the hoes".

Fandaniel: ...I'm sorry wh--

Zenos: After felling the rebellion ignited there. My father has me attend a brothel tea house. Where a woman tried to use her wiles on me. I directed a deep seat hatred for her own people and dubbed her viceroy to act in my stead. For my father threw me out of the Far Eastern Front for, to quote, "arousing the hoes".

Fandaniel: What did you do the gardening equipment in Ala Mhigo?

Zenos: I did not such thing. Bewildered, I elevated an angry woman to the status of near legatus, put her in charge of guarding a bridge, granted her her own military detachment and gave her a cannon. For my grandsire always said that women love cannons. I was then deposed of by the Champion of the Savages and slit my throat. I then woke up in the body of an elezen warrior. Met Centurion Chris. Stole his body. Traveled to Garlemald and made my father explain to me how scaring garden equipment is any grounds to exile his son. He then accused me of stealing the throne, I stabbed his heart, Gaius and Enamame, the Azure Dragoon set upon me and we met soon after.

Fandaniel: Truly a tragic tale.

Zenos: Also an Ascian talked at me...a lot. Like for...five hours.

Fandaniel: Elidibus did like to monologue.

[rpgsandbox]

The 10 Most Anticipated TTRPGs For 2024!

EN World's annual vote on the most anticipated titles of the coming year, and yes, some games have appeared on this list in previous years.

10 Tales of the Valiant (Kobold Press)

1st appearance Kobold Press joins the 'alternate 5E' club with this rewritten, non-OGL version of the game! A million dollar Kickstarter last year, and a new one for the GM's book going on right now, Kobold Press announced this as 'Project Black Flag' during the OGL crisis of 2023, but being unable to trademark that name opted for Tales of the Valiant instead. The system, however, is still called the Black Flag Roleplaying System.

9. Mothership 1E (Tuesday Night Games)

3rd appearance On this list three years running, the boxed Mothership 1E game should be coming out this year! This is sci-fi horror at its best -- you can play scientists, teamsters, androids, and marines using the d100 'Panic Engine'. Yep, it's Alien(s), pretty much.

8. Monty Python's Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Program (Exalted Funeral)

2nd Appearance Exalted Funeral made quite a splash when they announced this game last year, which went on to make neary $2M on Kickstarter. And how could they not? It's Monty Python fergoodnessake! A rules-lite gaming system, spam, a minigame with catapults, spam, coconut dice rollers, spam, and an irrepressible Python-eque sense of humour. Did I mention the spam? It was at #10 on this list last year, but it's claimed to #8 this year.

7. Daggerheart (Darrington Press)

1st appearance From the Critical Role folks, Daggerheart is a new fantasy TTRPG with its own original system coming out this year with "A fresh take on fantasy RPGs, designed for long-term campaign play and rich character progression."

6. Cohors Cthulhu (Modiphius)

1st appearance It's Ancient Rome. It's Cthulhu. It uses Modiphius' in-house 2d20 System. You can be a gladiator, a centurion, or a Germanic hero. Did I mention Cthulhu?

5. Dolmenwood (Necrotic Gnome)

1st appearance The British Isles, a ton of folklore, and a giant Kickstarter--Dolmenwood is a dark, whimsical fantasy TTRPG drawing from fairy tales and lets you "journey through tangled woods and mossy bowers, forage for magical mushrooms and herbs, discover rune-carved standing stones and hidden fairy roads, venture into fungal grottoes and forsaken ruins, battle oozing monstrosities, haggle with goblin merchants, and drink tea with fairies."

4. Pendragon 6E (Chaosium)

4th appearance Last year's winner was on this list waaaaay back in 425 AD, and it's still here! Well, maybe not that far back, but it's shown up in 2021 at #4, 2022 at #3, 2023 at #1, and now 2024 at #4! What can we say? People are clearly anticipating it... still.

3. 13th Age 2nd Edition (Pelgrane Press)

2nd appearance 13th Age is over a decade old now, and was our most anticipated game way back in 2013. Now the new edition is coming! It's compatible with the original, but revised and with a ton more... stuff! 13th Age 2E was #3 in last year's list!

2. The Electric State Roleplaying Game (Free League)

1st appearance Free League is always on these lists, and for good reason. This gorgeous looking game is described as "A road trip on the verge of reality in visual artist and author Simon Stålenhag's vision of an apocalyptic alternate 1990s".

1. Shadow of the Weird Wizard (Schwalb Entertainment)

3rd appearance First announced by Rob Schwalb a couple of years ago, this is a more family-friendly version of his acclaimed RPG, Shadow of the Demon Lord. SHADOW OF THE WEIRD WIZARD is a fantasy roleplaying game in which you and your friends assume the roles of characters who explore the borderlands and make them safe for the refugees escaping the doom that has befallen the old country. Unsafe are these lands: the Weird Wizard released monsters to roam the countryside, cruel faeries haunt the shadows, undead drag themselves free from their tombs, and old, ancient evils stir once more. If the displaced people would rebuild their lives, they need heroes to protect them. Finally at the top of the list after being #7 in 2022, and #6 in 2023!

[hasbr0mniverse]

DC Tales Of Centurions Power Xtreme! Cover Date: August 1987- Storylines: Sound-Off

[trashboatprince]

Something that's bothered me about complaints towards series 14/season 1 with Fifteen is that people said the faerie tale aspect of the season was bad, why put such elements in a sci-fi series that has never had that before?

And I have to sit there and stare at the screen because, what the fuck are you talking about? Did you not watch the Ponds-era of the Eleventh Doctor's run?

It's a massive theme of series five and six, and even part of series seven! Amy Pond and her Raggedy Doctor are very much a faerie tale story, the Girl Who Waited, the Boy Who Waited/the Last Centurion, River Song herself is a fantasy character with how mysterious she is!

And let's not forget Clara, the Impossible Girl, even she could be counted.

This is just me talking about the companions, some of the stories are very much like stories you'd read as a kid in a story book.

The star whale, the house with the living dolls, the haunted hotel with its beast that roams its halls, the Pandorica, Demon's Run, the pirate ship, hell, even the western episode is very fantasy-like with the legend added to it.

Why is it that people complain about Fifteen's stories when they are just as much a fantasy-genre as Eleven's whole era? Eleven and Fifteen are the faerie tale Doctors.

And let's not forget that Classic Who has its own stories that dwell on these sorts of themes, and even Modern Who's other Doctors have some random fantasy-like episodes throughout their runs. Also, books, comics, and audio stories add to this.

Doctor Who is as much sci-fi as it is fantasy, because these genres are siblings.

But I dunno, that's just what I think on the matter. *loudly sips coffee*

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 6

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:   1684

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 6

Steve Rogers: The Man Behind the Mask

By Melody Danes | Photographs by Peter Parker

Everyone knows Captain America.  He’s on the news regularly.  There are comic books and action figures based on the man.  Less is known about Steve Rogers.  The centurion who became the first-ever Super Soldier is often tight-lipped about his personal life.  He opened up to DB and what we found was not what we expected.

“You have a crush on Captain America!”

I’ve heard that accusation a lot since I started working on this profile piece.  The first day I went in to meet him for lunch I kept telling myself; be professional, be professional, be professional, in my head on repeat.  This is my first gig after all and well - it’s Captain freaking America.  I didn’t want to freak the man out and ruin any potential I had at getting another interview assigned to me in the future.

Over the week I spent following Steve Rogers around I realized that was easier said than done.

I should start at the beginning.  I had agreed to meet Steve at a diner near the Avengers Tower.  Since he is who he is, and this was my first interview with anyone, I wanted to make a good impression. So I borrowed a pantsuit from a friend.  It was not my best call, the shoes I wore were a size too big, and I fell just outside the diner we’d agreed to meet in.

Falling and being caught by Captain America when you’re on the way to meet him should be illegal.  It leads to too many awful things from completely mortifying embarrassment to imagining how one day you’ll tell your grandchildren the story of how you met their grandfather.

Steve is somehow even more handsome in real life than in pictures.  It’s almost like he’s been carved out of marble.  His skin is flawless and his muscles are hard like stone.  It’s his eyes that catch you though.  They are so blue and his lashes are so long and so dark that I’m fairly sure they could see them from the Alpha Flight Space Station.  They’re also kind.  Steve can be intimidating, but there is something about his eyes that makes you feel safe.

That first meeting I’d expected him to be closed off and unwilling to open up.  The Avengers haven’t exactly had the best run with the way the press reports on their work, and Steve in particular is known to keep to business when he speaks to the press.  What I found (apart from the textbook definition of a chivalrous meet-cute) was a man who wanted to see who he was, just as much as we wanted to find out.

We are all used to seeing Steve Rogers as Captain America, a role he considers important, but the role means he’s always on display and the way we interpret the message might not be the one he is trying to put out.

He wasn't always on display.  As he sits down to his steak he tells me about his childhood.  It's a bleak tale.  We all know the story, Steve Rogers was born to poor Irish Immigrants Steve had a list of ailments as tall as he was.  Asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, sinusitis, heart palpitations, nervous trouble, bone and joint deformity, color blindness, scoliosis, high blood pressure, diabetes, pernicious anemia, partial deafness, astigmatism, and easy fatigability.  It’s quite the list.  “I was a perpetual letdown for my father.  All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” Steve confesses.  The disappointment was added to when Steve’s younger brother died shortly after he was born.  It resulted in Steve’s father turning to alcohol and taking out that disappointment on the son who did survive.

It’s the kind of childhood that people usually describe to explain what sent them to the dark side.  Not so for Steve.  It made him particularly sensitive to vulnerable people.  In his own words, Steve Rogers doesn’t like bullies.

On a tour of Brooklyn Heights, the place he spent his youth, Steve is quick to point out all the places where he fought off bullies.  “You point to a spot and I probably started something I couldn’t finish there,” he tells me as we walk the streets.  Even with that huge list of ailments and a father who beat him, he still stood up to people bigger than him when he thought something wasn’t right.  It was no wonder that they chose him for Project Rebirth.

The sight of the Project Rebirth experiment that had turned into a nightclub now, and a strange tribute to all things Captain America.  Taking a look around it with Steve is a strange experience.  He seems genuinely happy that it had been turned into a place people go to enjoy themselves but it’s hard not to think about how he’d been experimented on and changed in that very room, making him the man he is today.

There are still things that linger from his childhood.  Over his steak, Steve tells me about his issues with food and why he hadn’t ordered the pancakes he would have preferred. “Steak is fine.  But is it what I wanted?  I’m not even sure.  I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner.  The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later.  And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again.  And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”

It's such a human reaction to childhood trauma.  We put our superheroes up on these pedestals and expect them to be more than us.  To be perfect both as public figures and behind closed doors.  It's a position no one can hope to achieve.  Not even actual gods. (Especially not actual gods).

Steve Rogers is just a man.  A good man, but still just a man.  He blushes when he flirts and he rolls his eyes when his friends tease him.  He can be quite sarcastic when he wants to be and he seems to want to be on a semi-regular basis.  He is sweet and he is open about what he believes in.  Sergeant James Barnes, Steve’s best friend growing up, followed him into battle not because he was Captain America but because he was Steve Rogers, “... and that little punk had a good heart.”

When asked what his biggest flaws are, he thinks about the question seriously.  “I expect a lot out of others.  I think I also automatically fall into a kind of disappointed father role.  And I can be reckless.”

That recklessness is regularly seen through his role as Captain America.  The fact he is still alive today is only because he intentionally crashed a plane in the Arctic Ocean and was put into suspended animation thanks to the ice.  He is regularly known to throw himself off buildings without a way to break his fall.

He’s a little more careful in his personal life, though it’s easy to see why.  The man has lost everyone once.  Since waking up there’s only ever been one rumored romantic partner.  Though he has gathered a rather large group of friends around him.  The Avengers are more than just teammates, they're a family that they created together. Each one wants to be better and help fix the world with the skills they each have.

So what is a better world according to Steve Rogers?  “I’ve always believed consenting adults should be able to love each other freely and without interference.  I have always believed that people should have a minimum standard of living that’s met even if they’re unable to work.  That means homes, food, electricity, running water, and medical care.  I have always believed that people should be free to worship whatever god they choose - or not - as long as that worship doesn’t interfere with others or harm them.”

He’s also pro-choice - a position well ahead of his time, though he’s seen what can happen when the procedure is outlawed.

That is only one of the ways the world has changed since he was a kid, not just politically but physically.  Steve used to stand at the docks in Brooklyn and watch the city line change.  It’s now barely recognizable to him, only really the Chrysler and Empire State buildings stand out as recognizable.  Where he grew up is different too, the art school where he started college doesn’t even exist anymore.  Back when he was a child he treated his myriad of medical conditions using things like heroin, cocaine, and belladonna, something that seems unbelievable today.

It’s a lot to have to adjust to, but he has adjusted, and he still works to change what needs work while appreciating the changes that have happened.  When I ask what he thinks we do today that will be seen as completely backward in another hundred years, his answer is circumcision.

He immediately blushes at his answer.

And that’s the Steve Rogers I got to know.  Working hard at fitting into a world that has moved forward as he works to make further changes.  Trying to be the good man he is.  Snarky.  Intelligent.  And willing to talk about circumcision with a stranger even when it makes him blush.

So my friends are wrong.  I don’t have a crush on Captain America.  My crush is firmly aimed at Steve Rogers.  The man is sweet-natured, decent, and completely unexpected.  I may always carry this crush with me.  He’s something special, and we’re all really lucky to have him.

// NEXT

[meowww-ffxiv]

There's a kind of divergence about the Warrior(s) of Light, for Mordred and Theodore.

They rose to prominence together as a pair fighting Ultima Weapon, and again when fighting for Ishgard. So Eorzea, all across the region, knew them as separate people by the end of Heavensward.

However, Mordred only had a short-lived (if high profile) stint as a font of sheer destruction in Ala Mhigo before he dropped that and reemerged as a healer. It clashed with his previous reputation, and due to the Grand Company captains wanting to protect any info about their greatest assets, news surrounding Mordred became confused. Eventually, it seemed he vanished altogether -- and he did. Theodore realized that Mordred committing more time and bloodshed to this war would destroy him, so he said, "I will shoulder this for both of us."

And so Mordred went back. To Eorzea. Grew a new reputation as a healer, craftsman, and continued other side adventures. Theodore, meanwhile, fought in the Ghimlyt Dark, then against Ruby Weapon, then got involved in freeing Werlyt and Bozja. His reputation remained consistent and only grew, until people were genuinely very sure that the one Warrior of Light was the Azure Dragoon.

But Eorzea did not forget. It also continued to benefit from Mordred's commitment to healing or assisting in its recovery. Outside of its borders, however, this second Warrior of Light was swift becoming a rumor. A tale, perhaps. Or maybe someone already dead. Or just someone lumped together with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

The both of them preferred it that way. Theodore didn't mind the throes of war. He grew up fully prepared to die a meaningless death against dragons, and he wasn't someone who had any qualms with the grittiness of it. Mordred, meanwhile, lived the life and left the mark that he wanted; someone who put things back together rather than destroying them. He worked to restore the Firmament. He worked to put Ishgard, his best friend's home, back together. So that it was somewhere Theodore could return to without hesitation or conflict.

...And then, because Theodore wore a full suit of armor including a full face helmet, once he went home and took it all off, he was just Some Guy.

He liked it that way, too. Nobody needed to know he killed [redacted] Garlean forces, or walked over enemies screaming in pain on the battlefield to land a killing blow on centurions. Or that he didn't think much of any of those deaths. Those were a cost of war. But Theodore was aware people at home might think him abnormal for being unaffected by these things, so he didn't bring it up.

He liked to fade into Mordred's shadow when he was around him. Share his thoughts, but defer to the person who had always been the needle of his compass since they became friends. Mordred could make risky decisions sound so reasonable-- or, well, Mordred scoffed at cruel practicality. He didn't waste time with trying to bargain with Theodore, or to plead. Here are the risks, he said, and I am going to take them. This is the measure of my conviction.

He didn't deign to plead or bargain with Theodore, was probably the more accurate description. Mordred treated the default to be kindness and, if not that deep, then civility; everything not that was a deviation from how things should be. Decency should be enforcable; he will be the enforcer if necessary. And nothing could wear that off of him.

Theodore felt compelled by it. That conviction. That the world SHOULD be kind and there should be people who fixed things and healed others, not just monsters who fight until one stood atop a mountain of corpses. He believed in the world Mordred made real around himself. He wanted to live in it. So he did.

Two Warriors of Light, but one was the flame and the other, the lantern that protected it.