#put the alien in resin

[crystaldecay]

I Concern my Socials teacher

I got very overwhelmed in class thinking about the future and she went up to me and asked what was wrong and I told her all my concerns and she told me I should start journaling. I did in fact start journaling.

[yanderes-galore]

Hello again friend! I kept thinking about this when we were playing together. What if there was a survivor on a colony/space station of an alien infestation that happens the usual way: Some idiot infected with a chestburster comes into the formerly safe area. This survivor gets the said alien attatched to her and it follows her around. The xeno vents, stalks and runs with the survivor around. Of course the human learns to utilize this xeno to defend herself too, "Sic her on 'em" as we lovingly call it. ;)

Hello, my friend! Here you go :) Takes place on the Sevastopol like in the game! Here's the ideas I came up with! Ended up keeping it Gender-Neutral as it's mostly just me spilling ideas. Xenomorph is female though.

Also, yes, the title is meant to look like that. That's the name of the game according to Xbox.

Yandere! Aliens, Isolation Concept

Pairing: Animal/Pet-like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Alien pet (?), Violence/Murder, Kidnapping, Stalking, Forced companionship.

Most people are familiar with Aliens, Isolation, right?

You spend the whole game trying to survive a station invested with Xenomorphs.

For the first portion of the game you're chased by just one Xenomorph.

That's what this idea is based on.

You're trying to survive in the Sevastopol, roaming the halls and hiding in vents from people, androids, and aliens.

Except this time... the alien doesn't want to kill you.

She has other purposes for you.

It's unknown why this particular Xenomorph is so attached to you... but one thing is painfully clear.

She won't leave you alone.

Despite the terrifying aspect of this, you can use this to your advantage.

You can use audio lures and flares to call the Xenomorph into the area.

She naturally targets humans, although is she sees an android as a threat she'd attack that too.

Another way to call her is by your voice.

Simply screaming calls the beast to the area to cause chaos and death.

You are, surprisingly, the safest person in this station.

The main threat appears to be on your side for one reason or another.

As a result... she becomes like a weapon... an attack dog (alien?).

The Xenomorph always seems to know where you are, like she's remembered your scent.

No matter how many times you transport yourself around and between areas, you can hear her signature crawling in the vents.

Even if you knew the alien doesn't plan to kill you... you dread going under open vents.

Even with the help you don't find yourself comforted in the dark halls of this station.

You still use vents to hide and gather whatever supplies you can.

Wouldn't it be a neat idea if the Xenomorph found supplies and dropped them by you from vents.

You'll be standing by a vent, only for crafting materials to be dropped beside you in a saliva coated mess.

Quietly you thank your foreign helper and put together an item.

People are wary to target you, they've heard of a human being able to tame the alien creature roaming about.

Yet at the same time... you have access to good supplies....

Anyone who attacks you is met with the same end, a Xenomorph slashing and biting through their flesh.

Hell, even if you made friends, you can hear the Xenomorph hissing from the vents.

She wants to keep you alone.

The Xenomorph would only stay out of the way for so long.

Soon she'll feel she wants to keep her human safe and hers.

Just when you feel you're getting used to the Xenomorph, the tables turn.

She picks you up from a vent or pins you to drag you away.

She doesn't intentionally knock you out or hurt you, yet that may still happen by accident.

When you wake up you find yourself in mini nest within the station.

She doesn't take you to the reactor, she wants you alone.

You're surrounded by the strange Xenomorph resin the creatures make.

You can't move, the resin coating the walls and locking you in a room.

You... you really thought you would escape.

Yet the Xenomorph only chitters and hisses, nuzzling her oblong head against you as she curls around you.

Truth is, you were probably going to die here anywhere.

The alien may try to give you food and water, but you're on a sinking ship.

Having an alien be your protector in this place has a price to pay...

This time... it just so happens to be you.

[carelessflower]

sunday recap 🌶️💐

gonna start this with the absolutely insane story of my friend seeing im asking whether we should go to hotpot today and just go ahead and booked a reservation at 11 at hotpot without informing me and me sleeping until 12 and receive a bunch of message from her. yeah that so fun

fit check. i got this shirt at like a festival fair kinda think and it so cute but so short, need some longer pants idk

HAIDILAOOOOO HEHEHE. cuz it the weekend they do not have the usual combo we usually had so everything was pricier, but I had some beef and cheese tofu heheh and seaweed. the ice cream and chocolate mochi was so so good

after meal we dropped by popmart to see what's all the fuzz. still don't know tbh I think it's just normal figurine but it's super popular lmaoo. also look at the zodiac collection, I think mine (virgo) the one praying?

the entire purpose of our hangout, we can use a bill over a certain amount to trade one turn making resin art, either the standing thing like you see or keychain. i choose keychain, the entire process was so random like I basically didn't know what im doing, but it turned out kinda okay? tho I wished they allow three letter on the keychain tho

while waiting for the reisin to dry and made into keychain, we took a scroll around the mall, they're already finishing the decorating for Christmas, the theme is london like it so pretty, there also a payphone booth to take picture

drop by muji and checkout this fleece coat, it make me look like im visiting some cold country

H&M next. tried on a bunch of stuff, that leather jacket is dark red btw, but it so obviously fake leather and shiny it looked darker on camera

drop by some perfume i haven't tried the other time. the Burberry Goddess one smell very much similar to the perfume I've made some time ago, like 60-70%. love the Burberry Blush tho, it smell so rosy and fresh

look how i customized my bag with these new keychains and old one, the alien one I got earlier this week strangely fit for this one

the hotpot had a printing machine so we can print our photo and tell me why it turn away all my other photos but print this one. it's fated

[blooms-in-sleep]

Toy Soldiers, Ch. 1

Inscrutable aliens abduct and brainwash hundreds of women into devoted slaves, among them Erica Galletti, a university professor convinced she must help her Masters conquer Earth.

Sometimes I wondered if I was the same woman as three days ago. Thinking in terms of days was definitely strange. I put my fingers to the metal wall beside me, separating me from the infinite vacuum, black and timeless. Somewhere amongst the drifting stars was Earth, but I knew at this distance it easily blended into their midst. I hauled myself forward in the zero gravity, down a rounded pentagonal tube studded with periwinkle lights. Just wide enough for me to move through in my current condition: naked except for the store between my legs. It was an arrow-shaped thing of black resin, clinging to my skin, with the head covering my crotch. It absorbed moisture. I never would’ve thought of it as a “store” had I seen it on someone else. But my Masters were very capable of guiding my thoughts.

Three days ago, Erica Galletti was a professor of political science at Columbia University, having worked there for seven years. She had colleagues she respected and prided herself on being professional but approachable. But then she’d been driving home through Harriman State Park and seen the road in front of her start to distort into a heat-haze-minus-heat, then melt away like a hologram along with the trees, the sunset sky, everything – replaced by an unearthly light that only she and her car seemed to inhabit. For some reason, it was at that point I tried to brake.

I?

I was a slave. I thought my name was Erica Galletti, but that only went so far.

An aperture of teardrop-shaped plates irised open in front of me, and I emerged into one of the ship’s central chambers. It was an ovoid: twenty feet across, thirty-five feet tall, with entrances clustered randomly near each end. Struts of an almost clear, plasticky substance jutted from above the equator of the interior surface and crisscrossed in a circular grid, reaching down to surround and hold a glittering crystal sphere at the room’s centre, big enough for me to curl up inside, with a black pillar affixed to the top. In nearly all the grid’s holes – which were a little over twenty inches on each side – another slave was holding themself in place, clasping the transparent tubes and softly kicking their legs like they were swimming with a rubber ring.

As a door to my left opened, and a soft-featured young woman with dark eyes peered out, I pushed against the now-shut plates of the aperture, up and off, and soon met the grid in a less-populated area. I monkey-barred over to my place, wandering a forest of legs where a dozen ebony stores winked at me between the “trees.” I slipped up into my space, staring straight ahead at the crystal ball. My only other accoutrements were a series of pins, keeping my medium-long, dark brown hair out of my eyes. On either side of me were a woman my age, with dusky, heart-shaped lips and small, pyramidal breasts; and a thin transgender man, judging by the dark threads on his upper lip, and his scars. The woman was squinting slightly. Maybe she wore glasses, before.

The last few slaves were entering the room now. Somewhere past a hundred people now waited in place, glancing politely between the sphere – the informer – or the doors in the “upper” reaches of the room. They, of course, eventually opened. All at once, we felt the same tension thrum into existence and vibrate between us. We were like the taut strings or wires of a musical instrument, waiting for the maestro’s first chord. Two Masters clambered into the room, and I couldn’t look away. They were all I needed to see. I failed to restrain a deep, satisfied groan. Nothing about their forms was sexually attractive to me, so I had to chalk up the liquid shock pooling inside me, making me drip into my ever-receptive store, entirely to their conditioning. Not just of me, they were Masters of their craft.

Our Masters wore no clothes, like us, but it was because their bodies were covered in sand-coloured fur. Such strange bodies: to move, to touch, their six limbs would inflate with fluid and extend, and I could only imagine their skin stretching like rubber beneath the fur. Folded against their chins when at rest, as if eternally praying or begging, their hands were elongated and finlike. Two thick stalks jutted from the centre of their wrinkled, blotchy faces, meeting at something like a nose, which twitched. As I watched the closer of the two Masters, the chestnut-shaped eye on one of those stalks swivelled to face me, while its twin surveyed the other side of the room. The eye was glossy and wine-red. Dark shapes flashed within; the pupils? A long, lipless gash of a mouth ran down from the stalks, flexing in gentle waves.

I recognised our Masters by the shapes of their heads and the patterns of spots on their faces: these were “Sixteen” and “Twenty-one.” They had helped train me. Their legs extended to cushion their landing on the informer’s dome, steadying themselves on the pillar at its apex. Sixteen, who had looked at me earlier, wasted no more time. He – I’d already interrogated myself for hours on how naturally the pronoun came to me – extended his arm to tap and stroke the pillar’s surface. Meanwhile, Twenty-one kept watch over the gathered flock. I heard the woman beside me sigh softly whenever one of his eyes roved past us. I knew exactly what she was feeling. One of the layers of conditioning that laid on my mind the heaviest went part-and-parcel with the intense focus I felt whenever a Master was in sight, the overwhelming security. On an instinctual level, I knew I could, should, must leave everything up to them.

Or to their technology, I reflected after Sixteen finished his work, and in the brief moments before the informer came – the light in the centre of the sphere shot through my eyes like a javelin. Online. My mind shrank away, beaten back by the relentless flashes, already disappearing over the horizon, into the new sunrise of my understanding.

Spending time in the informer’s grasp was the start of every “day” here. Like falling asleep, I couldn’t remember the one moment I disappeared and left behind a taught thing in my body. The Masters had their backs to us; I felt the instinct to follow fail to arise. We were leaving the assembly chamber as orderly as we could, battling our burnt-out nerves and the constant impulse to blink after so long spent before the light to navigate in zero gravity. I slung myself down by the arms and let go, drifting towards the doors back to the slave quarters feet-first. On top of the crystal sphere above my head, the Masters tended to its workings in silence. I couldn’t remember what exactly I’d seen in its depths, but I knew what it had meant. Then again, “knowing” it was an understatement.

New thoughts marched through my mind and trampled everything from before. I was a slave. A slave soldier, being trained to help my Masters conquer Earth, and I would always follow orders. At the same time, I left my body on autopilot, half-swimming, half-scrambling down the ship’s silent tunnels. I thought it again: I was whatever the informer taught me. My store gently gathered the evidence of my obedience, keeping my Masters’ home clean. Coming to an intersection, a ring of lights in front of me turned yellow. A pale, high-cheekboned, delicately freckled face appeared in the tube running perpendicular to mine, framed by vivid red hair, which, like mine, was pinned into a row of small buns. The girl’s body drifted by; her breasts weren’t large but could foster impressive cleavage in the right outfit. Her legs, most of all, gave me pause; so long, perfect, and what a waist…! As her feet left my field of view, I wondered if I’d seen her before.

As far as I could tell, we slaves had one half of the ship and the Masters had the other, divided along the interiors of central chambers like where the informer rested. Upon arriving back in the slave quarters, I made my way to what could be called the “mess hall.” As tall as the assembly chamber but roughly cylindrical, the walls were made of a ring of convex curves, with footholds scooped out and larger holes where the whole arm could slot in. The centre of the room had a ribbed pole running through it, and it was this I clung to and descended, waiting for another woman’s gently kicking legs to drift out of the way before I leapt to a free feeding station. I hooked my feet, slotted my arms inside the holes and placed my lips on the waiting nozzle. The nutrient gel was cool and bitter. Above me, another store attended to its pussy. My own was pleasantly tickled by the flavour of our Masters’ formula, and the feel of it in my throat; otherwise, I may have choked again.

After a quick towel bath alongside thirty or so other slaves, I floated up the ship to where I’d be spending the rest of my day – much to the delight of my ever-thrumming pussy. My personal training, lessons, whatever it could be called. “Training” would most befit a soldier. The room was tiny compared to the others; a pill, into one end of which I had to squeeze, my knees almost touching my chest as I bent along with the wall behind me. In front of me were a smaller informer, the size of a child’s beachball, and two screens very closely sandwiched together, set up like a keyboard. Behind these things was a window, in the middle of the room. Sixteen watched me from behind it. He couldn’t be with me – earlier when I’d been taught with the group, he and Twenty-one had been ensconced behind a wall of solid air – but the pang I felt each time I saw that barrier… what did I want from my Master, this alien?

There was a hum, then English issued from an unseen speaker somewhere in the room, the artificial voice croaky, jerking from sound to sound. “Sixteen talking. Eh-rhi-kaah hears, will nod now.” I looked into his swivelling eyes and nodded my head. “Good slave.” Contrary to the slapdash assembly of my name, those two words stroked my brain and made a grab for my pleasure centre. Psychology wasn’t my exact field, but I’d known for most of my life there were ways people could be led around like animals. Even thinking of it like that, it was like I’d been asking for this. Sixteen continued, “Eh-rhi-kaah will place finger available hands drawing plate, will look informer now,” and I obeyed, my fingers touching the cool surface in front of me while my eyes rested on the inert crystal. “Good slave.” Again, the silken vice, setting me boiling into my store, wriggling in my ready pose, practically purring.

How could there have been a me who wasn’t enslaved? The entirety of my mind was sure I belonged here, except for this meniscus of rational thought floating on my unconscious. But the calming of the waters was coming. My Master activated the informer and after that, there was nothing else to know about.

[lil-miss]

Perfuming Zim

We're back in the building again folks! Let's get right into it!

My first choice for Zim is actually one I think she would smell like while she was still an invader and one whose scent profile I think is very thematically appropriate for her. This one is Mangomacumba by Spiritica.

This is a scent that is sort of lying to you, with big, bright, and audacious top and middle notes and a dull, earthy base that is a really jarring contrast.

The top notes are mango, papaya, mint, ozone, pineapple, and lime. Middle notes are mango, papaya, tiare flower, blood, guava, and metal. Base notes are tobacco, white musk, ebony, animal notes, milk, earth, and clay.

You can probably see where I'm going with this, bright and loud scents contrasting with a dull earthy base could be symbolic of the empire and the invader persona Zim is putting on and how it contrasts and overpowers who she is as a person. The top and middle notes overpower the base notes and make them feel inconsequential and almost meaningless. Zim before starting her arc feels that who she is as a person is meaningless and inconsequential compared to her duty to the empire and her mission represented by the bright and sweet scents we might associate with Irkens due to their color scheme and eating habits as well as smells like ozone, blood, and metal referring to their warmongering, tech, and weaponry. This choice is far more symbolic than practical since realistically Zim would smell like disinfectant, but that's not a scent note on Fragrantica so I did my best.

From here we get into Zim's scents after moving in with Dib and the first one, similar to Dib's, is what I think her natural scent would be like. For this, I chose Earth Virgo by CnR Create.

This is a spicy, warm, and sweet scent with some floral and citrus notes that I think is very Zim, although this is one of my harder sells since it's mostly based on my personal headcanon about what Zim's blood tastes/smells like and just what I think she smells like.

It has top notes of citruses, pepper, clove, and cinnamon. Middle notes of nutmeg, vanilla, pear, caramel, and carnation. And base notes of benzoin, musk, and amber.

Scent-wise, something that embodies Zim in my mind would be a strong spiced, warm scent. While we think of scents like these as comforting, especially as we get into fall in the northern hemisphere, I think that the strength and kick of these scents gets lost and it's that aspect that I associate with Zim the most. They are bold and passionate scents that I feel encapsulate Zim very well, they still have that je ne sais quoi that makes Zim, Zim but in a different way than when she was in the empire. Instead of sweetness from tropical bright notes like mango, it's derived from more textured notes like pear and caramel. Instead of deriving its kick from notes like ozone and metal, it's derived from more natural-smelling spices like clove and cinnamon. On top of that the base musk is different since Zim is now in a different context where the core of who she is isn't dirty or insignificant but celebrated and encouraged, relating to a clearer musk that comes from the resin qualities in the amber and benzoin. The scent also relates to my personal headcanon about what Zim's blood tastes and smells like (a normal thing to think about), personally I think it would taste and smell like burnt caramel and warm spices, both of which are present in this scent which is what drew me to it as a choice for her in the first place.

One note that I have an explanation for but didn't fit into the earlier analysis is the citrus, this is mostly because many household cleaners and disinfectants are scented with citrus oils like lemon or orange and she's made the switch to using those to clean instead of the more industrial chemicals I would imagine her using in her base.

My next scent for Zim is something she would choose to wear herself, and despite how much I REALLY wanted to use Alien Goddess or really any fragrance in the Alien collection by Mugler, I feel like Rosa Alba 1842 by Happ & Stahns really fits what her personal tastes would be like.

This is a plant and floral forward scent and I love it. It's bright and rich in a way I can only explain by listing the notes.

The top notes are tea, grapefruit, and pink pepper. the middle notes are rose and wisteria. And the base notes are amber, musk, and cashmere.

The first reason I would pick this for Zim is that it is not just a floral-forward scent but a plant-forward scent with tea and pink pepper notes. With her new-found interest in botany, she would be interested in perfumes with botanical notes. The scent also has a sense of luxury with the amber and cashmere base notes, Zim isn't familiar with the type of luxury she now has being free from the empire and I think she would be drawn to some of those unfamiliar things. Zim would also be drawn to this scent because of its overt femininity. We use things like makeup and perfume to express and experiment with gender frequently. Zim navigating her gender expression as a woman and as a femme through those mediums after she's been raised in a society where that kind of expression wasn't really a thing makes a lot of sense for her. It's a scent that relates to her new desires and interests and I think it's an interesting and fitting choice for her.

There, there's all the crazies people.

[tinycoded360]

JoJo's big adventure Chapter 8

 Kirk nodded at Sulu and Chekov, who took positions beside the door. With a united push, the hatch groaned open. Fortunately, they had found two more victims, giving them these leads to this location. And after Joanna had identified the perp in custody, all they needed was just a little more evidence and, hopefully, a clue on how to reverse the shrinking process. The culprit refused to talk, claiming he had nothing to do with it. Checkov had made sure Joanna had made it back to the enterprise and to the waiting hands of her father. She was most relieved to see the other kids her size. She was useful in calming them down and letting them know they were in good hands. Literally. 

"Phasers on stun," Kirk ordered, descending first into the inky abyss. "We may not be alone."

They crept forward, eyes flitting nervously over strange devices that hung from the ceiling or protruded from the walls. Each instrument was an enigma, its functions obscured by the alien technology and the kidnapper's malevolent intent. Kirk turned his head as Spock and Dr. Mccoy entered next. Mccoy finally had settled the tiny kids down, including his daughter. His medical staff was keeping an eye on them.

"Spock, any thoughts on what these devices could be used for?" Kirk asked, casting a sidelong glance at his first officer.

"Insufficient data, Captain," Spock replied, his voice betraying none of the apprehension that had settled in the guts of his human companions. "However, it would be logical to assume they relate to the criminal's methodology in shrinking his victims."

The narrow corridor opened into a room that struck them all with a chilling silence. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls, each home to a collection of still and lifelike figures. Perfect action figures. There were figures from all walks of life. From Vulcans to Klingons. They would say they were the most life-like dolls they’ve ever seen if they didn't know better. But they knew better.

"Jim," Mccoy choked out, his voice a roughened whisper, "look at this."

Kirk approached the nearest shelf, running a hand over the small figures. Their glassy eyes stared back, unseeing, frozen mid-motion as if caught in the act of living when the kidnapper snatched it away. It was preserved in some sort of resin. Kirk picked up one, an Andorian female. It was the strangest thing; it felt soft to the touch but without the warmth of life.  The limbs are easily manipulated. But they didn’t flop around like a dead body would. Making Kirk wonder if the kidnapper did some sort of modification to make them posable. Like added wire or some sort of taxidermy technique. Kirk gently set the figure down and left the small figure alone; he felt gross for messing with a corpse.

The most disturbing thing of all is that this kidnapper……no serial killer, had no set preference. There were figures of all ages, genders, and species. Kirk felt sick and angry as he spied a smaller figure than the rest. It was a human boy, from the size compared to the other figures, and the baby was fat still on his cheeks. Kick would guess the boy was no older than six. Kirk felt his anger boil; he wanted to punch the one responsible.

"Each one... a victim," Spock observed, his calm demeanor starkly contrasting to the horror that gripped McCoy's heart.

"Tiny people," McCoy said, his voice cracking. He reached out tentatively as if to touch one of the miniature figures before retracting his hand quickly. "He turned them into... into playthings." Mccoy felt like he could throw up, this would have been Joanna fate, if she hadn’t gotten away and found him.

"Jim," McCoy said, his voice thick with emotion, "we have to find and put this monster away for good. We can't let there be any more victims like these."

Kirk's jaw tightened, and he nodded sharply, the set of his shoulders broadcasting both his anger at the injustice and his resolve. "We will, Bones. I swear it."

Ever the pragmatist, Spock had already moved on to the task at hand, examining the devices scattered throughout the room. "Captain, Doctor, I believe these instruments are part of the process used to... shrink the individuals."

"Advanced knowledge used for barbaric purposes," Kirk muttered, moving to join Spock. He picked up a stack of papers, scanning their contents for anything that might lead them to the kidnapper.

"Anything?" McCoy asked, peering over Kirk's shoulder.

"Log entries," Kirk replied, flipping through the pages. "It's a record of abductions. Dates, species, locations..." His brow furrowed. "But no names, no motive."

"Purely functional," Spock observed, his eyes not leaving the device he was inspecting. "But this could be enough to tie him to the abductions and murders. This evidence will be enough."

“This is good! We have the evidence, and we can figure out how this technology works.” Kirk patted Mccoy on the back. “We’ll get Joanna back to normal in no time and will put this monster away for good.” 

[shinagawa-division]

“Package for… Sumire Shinomiya?”

She really shouldn’t have been all that surprised. It was her birthday, after all. The sun was beginning to rise over the city of Shinagawa and Sumire’s 21st birthday was only getting started.

She quickly thanked the delivery man and carried the package with the word ‘DELICATE’ printed over it.

After tearing through the wrapping paper, she was met with a letter addressed to her in small, bubbly handwriting.

“Well hey there again, Diabla,

It’s that time of the year again and it’s time that I send another present your way. Lets game again so I can kick your ass, girlie. I’m kidding.

Not really.

-Screen Shot (you know me, from Akihabara)”

Inside was a fluorescent resin lamp with a grotesque alien crawling through neon terrains.

Sumire looked at the letter then at the gift before snorting and giving a smirk, leave it to Makina to come up with the most weird yet creative gifts. “It has been a while since I’ve been online, I can only imagine what my place on the leaderboard looks like now.” She mumbled to herself as she examined the lamp, she could appreciate the originality and it definitely did fit in with the aesthetic she has.

Unbeknownst to her, Seizou had sneaked up on her while she was looking through the gift and eyed the lamp with curious eyes, without warning, his scorpion tail had shot out of his back hand wrapped around the lamp, snatching it from Sumire’s hands (and scaring the absolute shit out of her in the process) and bringing it over to him so that he could look more closely.

“HOLY FUCK-SEIZOU!!!” Sumire yelled, one hand gripping the area over her heart as she snapped her head to the young AI. “What the fuck?! Don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack! How did you even get in here anyways?!”

Seizou merely looked at his creator, blinked, and looked back at the lamp. “Seizou cannot identify what species is inside this enclosure, Seizou suggests that we just destroy it to increase safety.”

Sumire blinked once, twice, before sighing and giving a light chuckle, “Sei…” She affectionately ruffled the boy’s hair, earning a monotone protest in response. “The creature in there isn’t real, it’s a lamp, sweetie, a friend of me gave it to me as a gift.”

That seemed to register in the young AI as his eyes flashed in recognition and he nodded slowly. “Seizou understands, Seizou is sorry that he scared Creator.” He lowered his head and gave the lamp back to Sumire, retracting his tail. Sumire looked at Seizou then back at the lamp before making a mental decision and smiling. “Hey Seizou, why don’t you keep it? Maybe you can put it in your room? Study it a little? Look, it even has a tail like you!” She pointed out the similarities between the alien’s tail and Seizou’s scorpion tail.

Handing the lamp back to Seizou, the boy looked at it with a sense of wonder, as much as he can feel of it anyways. “Is Creator sure? This is a gift meant for Creator, Seizou does not want to take it away if Creator wants it.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t think Makina cares what happens to it, at least it’s getting used…probably not in the way she thinks it is but it still has a purpose.” Sumire waved off Seizou’s concerns and grinned as she watched Seizou nodded and wandered off most likely “eager” to examine and take apart his new toy to see what makes it tick.

Thank you for the gift!

[beepleap]

ive never really gotten involved with cosplay discourse bc most of it is stupid but apparently sone people have been talking abt bought cosplays vs homemade cosplays and as a maker my head is full of thoughts. keep in mind that ive heard everything secondhand from my roommate (who also cosplays) bc i dont really use other social media (we have a joint cosplay insta i post on sometimes but they do everything else there).

ive been making my own cosplays since i was like 11 or 12, and im lucky enough to have had a mom who knows how to sew and could teach and help me those first few years. my dad is a nerd who was excited when i started cosplaying and going to cons with him and he's always has helped me with props. again, i know im lucky for this, and i had a pretty easy in to the hobby. this is all really just for context for my side here.

cosplay had a bit of a popularity boom over lockdown, because it was a way people could have fun at home, and that's great!! i love seeing people getting into things i love!! especially after being made fun of for it as a teen. but since then, ive noticed that the vast majority of new cosplayers are buying their costumes — and before i go further, i want to emphasize that i do not judge on an individual level whether or not youve made your cosplay, and nobody should. everybody's situation is different and it's important to remember the play part of cosplay. its supposed to be fun — and honestly that's really sad to me. what's even sadder is the amount of people saying things like 'everyone who makes their cosplays are rich' (i am absolutely fucking not, im currently unemployed bc im disabled) or 'if you make your cosplay youre not a cosplayer, youre a cosmaker' (this one doesnt even make sense. why are you alienating the creators of the entire hobby).

i get completely that its an intimidating thing to get into. making cosplays isnt just sewing. its also hair/wig styling, makeup artistry, foamwork, propmaking, etc... the list can really goes on bc it truly can be anything. resin casting, embroidery, beading... it all depends on what youre doing and how you want to do it. and im not saying it isnt a money- and timesink, because obviously you have to invest both of these things into it. but it doesnt have to be all fancy sewing machines and expensive fabrics!

did you know you can sometimes rent sewing machines from libraries? if theres a makerspace near you, thats a fantastic resource (they usually have things like sewing machines and 3d printers, and they usually host classes where you can learn to use their equipment)! youre even likely to find sewing machines at thrift stores! and speaking of thrift stores, bedsheets and curtains make great fabric sources, and if youre lucky you can find a piece you can alter or even just wear as part of the costume! and theres tons of tutorials and resources online for just about everything, even for specific costumes. there are also some good online fabric stores with much more variety and better prices than joanns, and you can look into if theres a place near you that sells recycled and donated remnants/unused fabrics, etc!

and like. idk. maybe thats all common knowledge among the specific group of cosplayers im talking about. theres nothing wrong with still choosing to buy a cosplay. i just ask: do you know how the people who made it are treated at the source you buy from? are they paid fairly? is it made out of cheap polyester and how comfortable is that for you?

i put — very literally, usually — blood sweat and tears into my costumes. im not saying everyone has to do this. im just. the making aspect is the heart of cosplay to me. its clearly not for everyone and thats fine. it just makes me sad to see so many people acting like its some elitist or inaccessible thing when its not

[zelda-cooper]

Thoughts, Headcanons and Comments on Liquidator (My AU).

This here is more of a commentary blog and maybe a rant, it can also be considered as a headcanon blog and also for Liquidator fans like me. Maybe I'll make the others Fearsome Five/Four, but I'll see about it... For those who want to, they can read it as they wish, but I'm already advancing that it's LONG and will have some low-level words (I'll censor it, but it's still worth it).

I was watching Avatar these days while I was doing some drawings and I ended up realizing something that could kind of be used for Liquidator from Darkwing Duck... I thought something like this: "Calm down there, the water dog there is pure water... He was basically going to M@SS@CR@TE DWD with his powers alone! HOW THE F*CK DID THEY NOT EXPLORE MORE OF HIS POWERS?!?! LOOK AT THESE WATER BENDERS!!! WOULD KILL THE DARKWING DUCK EASY!!!"

It was just like that... Only mentally...

But my point is... I understand very well that the series is a comedy, it shouldn't have that much budget for the series (correct me if I'm wrong) and it would probably take forever to animate moving water. But, man... LIQUIDATOR HAD ONLY ONE EPISODE OF HIS OWN AND THE OTHERWISE WAS ONLY WITH THE FEARSOME FIVE!!! SOME OF THE FANS DON'T EVEN PUT HIM ON DARKWING DUCK VILLAIN LISTS!!!! WHAT IT IS?!?! AHHHHHH-

*takes a deep breath*.... Sorry, my Liquidator fan side got pissed off. But I think you get my point. I don't know if ALL Dator fans will agree, but it's kind of my thought. Let's face it, Liquidator is already strong considering the dog IS PURE WATER, which makes it intangible. In fact, I suspect that even then, you can attack him. The Sandman, one of Spider-Man's villains, is sand, but he can be attacked and have his limbs like arms and hands shredded with specific attacks.

(I didn't find a Gif showing this, so settle for that one. It could even be good to be this scene after Liquidator fell into the water tank...)

And we've ALREADY seen him manipulating water and CHANGING its states. He heated the water to the boiling point, it evaporated and he was good and he TURNED THE FUCKING SAINT CANARIAN OCEAN INTO A YELLOW BORBERCHUDY STUFF!!! (I guess it was some kind of resin or rubber, but I interpret it to be some kind of resin anyway)

But I think the writers forgot about his skills... I think it was to reduce the water dog's power, the villain was a bit stolen. But here are some thoughts of mine... I think it, itself, doesn't exactly control just water. This is MY headcanon, so you may disagree, but Dator controls her liquid and CHEMICAL components more. Let's face it, NOBODY knows what he put in the water tanks, but it was probably random chemicals so basically he's melting in that scene (and in the end he went swimming there to see if it worked... Because of Darkwing Duck... ). Let's face it, if he created resin in an OCEAN, he can make other compositions like acid or even glue. I'm not good at chemistry, but I don't find it difficult... To be honest, if Dator was stolen like that... I'd love to see it!

But obviously... Let's have LIMITS!!! And the first is... He's water, people... One of the points I liked most about his solo episode is the way he was defeated, which is coherent. Use cement powder! That basically left him a statue... He came back, but still (What I didn't think was cool was that they turned him into Jell-O in Justice Ducks, that was pathetic, it's diminishing the character's morals, in terms of comedy, it's got some laughs, but... no). There is another point that is also... He still feels tired, that is, if he uses too much he faints. He doesn't necessarily have to sleep (yes, he sleeps in my AU...), but a five minute break or an hour maybe. And the last one, this one is more specific, would be high sound frequencies. For those who are fans of DC, take the Black Canary, for fans of Ben 10, several of his aliens with sound powers. And that really loud sound frequency. This makes his form fall apart.

So the main weaknesses, um... Cement just in case the situation gets tough, if he uses his powers too much he gets tired and any weapon or high frequency sound powers dismantles his form.

I have more to say about my headcanons than my water dog, but I'll stop here so I don't have to make such a big bible. But, for those who like my drawings, here's one of my Sona with Liquidator. That's it... BYE!!!

(I don't think he likes me...)

(Inspired by this here!)

[yanderes-galore]

Hello can I ask for multiple xenomorphs platonic hc?

Well, okay, this may be short as they are meant to be vague when I write them. So take this small concept of a group of three xenomorphs taking to a scientist darling.

Mostly because scientist/xenomorph stories are a trope I enjoy- This is not realistic without a reason, of course, but it doesn't need to be.

Yandere! Platonic! Xenomorphs

Short Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Stalking implied, Jealousy, Possessive alien pet(s).

As a scientist for Weyland Yutani you were put in charge of three xenomorphs.

Let's give them names.

Since birth you had labeled them as Subjects Alpha, Beta, Gamma.

Each has the greek symbol burned into their exoskeleton.

You considered them triplets, despite being born from three different hosts.

Once they were branded they were sent to you as their caretaker.

Congrats, now you're the parent of three aliens.

Then you grew used to the chestbursters that roamed close to you in and out of containment.

Honestly, the fact they took to you is surprising for everyone involved in the experiment.

You were scared of taking care of them at first.

Their skin is soft yet still sleek, not quite hardened.

They act like snakes and slither around you.

Sometimes they slither up your leg, your arms, or even lay on your shoulders.

That is until they get older and all three become young xenomorphs.

That's when you have to limit physical contact.

At this stage of their life... tails, claws, and teeth as considered deadly to you.

You find it strange when they chitter softly towards you, ramming into the glass for your comfort.

For example if you put your hand on the glass, they'll press their head towards it with a soft thunk.

Alpha, Beta, and Gamma prove to be loyal to you.

You care for them enough to defend them against your higher ups.

This makes them overprotective over you.

Their behavior is rather limited in captivity.

When others are around you they may act more hostile, but that's about all they can do.

Xenomorphs are rather intelligent.

There's no doubt the three would escape at some point.

When do they not?

It would be a complete surprise to you but your three test subjects are gone.

You need to be on your toes and aware of your surroundings.

This is because their next plan of action would be hunting you down.

In their eyes, you're their parent.

Not quite their Queen, but someone who took care of them.

When you aren't looking, the large xenomorphs will sneak behind you from the vents and grab you with outstretched claws.

Once escape is complete the three would take care of you the best they can.

They are adaptable so they're try to all be like you at times.

Imagine if you pet them when they were younger... so to calm you down they try to pet you too.

They'd also do the classic xenomorph chittering, clumping close to you in an attempt to keep you safe.

If it gets cold outside they may push you down then crawl on top of you.

This is an attempt to warm you, the bug-like aliens curling around you in this strange lump of shelled creatures.

Think of them similar to raptors or wolves.

They are pack animals and are hostile towards other creatures.

They do not hesitate to harm those around you.

As they've grown up around you they like more human activities.

Hugs and cuddling for example-

The xenomorphs adore each other as siblings (most likely sisters), and you as their parent.

They try to take care of you as thanks for taking care of them.

As you are technically their parent you have more free will.

For example, you may be able to go home but you'd have to smuggle them in.

They refuse to part from you.

Which means if you take them home they deem your house as the nest.

Expect resin to coat your walls and you never being alone without the aliens watching you.

It's not like they "sleep", the acid in their blood acts like a battery.

They're always up and alert.

Overall having xenomorphs in any capacity is dangerous.

The government of your planet may find out about it...

You could get hurt by them or their young...

Xenomorphs are also incredibly possessive, so good luck training your little pack of killing machines.

You're going to need it.

[saintkeaton]

Red Claws

white light

opens in

blackness

fingers spread

the

pink cave

baby head emerges

from

void emptiness

the

female claw

of

red blood

reaches into the night

grasping

for

living fish

&

green moss

she walks into

nightmare

madness

with red claws

attached

i see

my

daughter

red hair blazing

freezing blue eyes

&

know

there is a

God of love

out there hiding

in the void

somewhere

an unfathomable

mystery

but

down here

the world is

full of

holes

&

the devil hides

in churches

&

funeral homes

mobile homes

&

catacombs

so then

everything

branches off

into groups

&

multiplies into

a million copies

starts making

newspapers

&

selling fresh produce

&

putting ships inside

of bottles

&

the blacksmiths

die off

&

nobody is left

to shoe the

horses

&

people making

phone calls

on

the moon

&

it's been

2022 years

ago

that

Jesus died

which

causes a

flood of memories

to

come rushing

&

burst the

blood vessels

&

cause back cramps

&

rattle off

whatever comes

into your brain

to say

like milk

&

honey

off that

old

Beck album

playing in my

beat up

dodge

pulling into

lee high

hate in

every second of it

looking back now

seems so

insignificant

that you wouldn't

waste

one brain cell

or

muscle

or

micro-thought

on any of it

now now now

i came out

of the

dropout mind

&

i am

handling my shit

putting food on

the table

working

40 hours a week

with no

psychedelics

hiding in my pants

no trip outs

in the

pizza hut

bathroom

no room left

to royally

fuck up

the way

i used to

soon I’ll have to

shave my face

again

&

dust out the

aliens

from the attic

&

spread myself

too thin to breathe

in this mud

lungs caked with

pall malls

&

resin

&

limestone dust

&

blackness

yet again

like a

forgetful fiend

losing all the

precious diamonds

down in the

hog slop

as well as

casting the

pearls

&

nodding

o f f

————————————————

[astrafauna]

The REAL origin story of Graham and the Worry Dolls

Want to hear the real origin story of Graham and the Worry Dolls?

It was 2019, and I was going to therapy for anxiety. I don’t mention this part of my life much but that’s where it all started, so here we go. (This is also a story of how my therapist was *really* smart )

I was in a session and my therapist, since she knew I liked animals, mentioned that there was a technique where you visualize your anxiety as an animal and then you can either get a figurine or plushie of this animal and “talk to it” when you’re feeling amped up.

So, if you felt like your anxiety was an elephant sitting on your chest - you’d get a little elephant doll, put it on a shelf and name it Peanuts. Then whenever you’re feeling bad, you’d look at Peanuts and say, “it’s okay, Peanuts, I don’t need you right now. You can stay on the shelf” or, “that’s enough, Peanuts, stop acting up”

She asked me if I knew what animal my anxiety was.

I did. Also, I was a bit of a dick - being that I’m a cynical New Englander who was really sleep deprived since my dog was battling cancer at the time and needed to wake up every 90 mins with side effects from chemo.

I’ve had *multiple* dreams where my anxiety is like a black cloud, totally amorphous and it swirls around me. The only solid part of it is gleaming white predatory teeth.

I told her about my dreams, a bit too cocky for my own good, thinking, “Try that on for size, you and our elephant named, Peanuts”

…and I got my ass humbled.

Without skipping a beat, she was like, “Well, you're a creature designer, right? Can you make it solid and tiny in your head?”

…and I was like, “OMFG…I COULD! And that might WORK?!”

I went home and sketched what that thing would look like. I still have the sketches.

Coincidentally, this session perfectly lined up with my desire to start making resin kits and figures of my creatures for my business.

I had this little chonky critter that was very much so on brand and personal to me - why not use that design to learn about 3d printing, molding, and casting?

So that’s just what I did, and the 1st Worries appeared in Feb 2020. I took them to a show and told people about them. (Not all of it - mostly what they stood for and how they worked. They are, simply, a more toothy version of Peanuts, and work the same way)

I was shocked at how well received they were. People held them and cried. People bought them for therapy sessions. People petted them like a real, little animal. Some people named them right away and some said they needed time.

I realized that making the dolls was actually doing legit good. I mean, no one ever held one of my prints with so much connection and emotion. No one ever bought a playmat and said they were going to use it to help their formerly abused adopted kid work through their troubles.

…and this is why I’m still making the Worry doll figures.

Now here’s where Astra Fauna comes in. I knew I wanted to tell the worry doll story, but I didn’t really want to tell the one I’m telling you now. I wanted to make it, well, scifi and fictional.

So I invented Umaii and Graham.

I wanted to show the connection people have with their anxieties, and how they deal with them.

I wanted to talk about how it can feel to do things despite them.

And lastly, I wanted to make something I wished I had - as a 9 year old kid, who couldn’t breathe all of sudden, because I had a math test that day. And for all the years after it, when it didn't go away.

Umaii and Graham are in Astra Fauna: Expeditions. The KS ends this Thursday (7/13). I hope you’ll give it a read.

PS. My nightmares stopped too. :)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Ohlzelth, Visionary Parasite

“…it was then that the gods granted me a vision, the revelation of the burning tree, that I knew meant I was meant to drive the heathen faiths and their paganistic worship of nature from our lands. For so long I had awaited their sign, to cleanse the world for their coming. Don’t you see? The gods wanted this! How am I to be condemned? “

Brother Valdius Reannt, lay brother of Stillbrook monetary, last testimonial before execution for the murder of eight.

Setup:

Those who seek conference with the greater mysteries of the multiverse would do well go guide their mind, as there are all manner of tricksters and hazards that would gladly prey upon them as they travel the uncharted paths of the cosmos. Ohlzelth is one of those hazards, an entity somewhere between a virus and an idea that infects the minds of those with oracular gifts in an attempt to propagate itself across the multiverse. From there it takes root, binding itself into the material of the plane as it spreads through the minds of others.

Adventure Hooks:

A villain casts “modify memory” on one of the party members, instilling in them a terrifying vision and an alien compulsion nested within it. Will they be able to fight off this entity’s influence, or will they succumb to the purpose and the powers that it offers?

Investigating a cult lairing in a nearby dungeon, known to participate in abduction and intimidation to swell their ranks. After fighting their way past a few crazed, desperate defenders (as well as the other hazards id the dungeon) the party enters the inner sanctum to find they are too late, and all that remains if the cult’s leadership are a few twisted, resinous treethings, their roots spiraling down deep into the earth. The cultists have corrupted the local laylines, and soon many others will be receiving peculiar visions while indulging in magical practice. 

While recovering from a bad fever inflicted by a nasty wound, a bandit leader has seen a vision of a particular village’s central-square tree on fire, and is now mustering their strength and their forces to put the whole town to the torch. Bonus points if this is a villain the party faced down before, and  they’re suffering from a wound the party gave them. 

Background: Incursions by Ohlzelth always begin with a vision, whether obtained through divination, or the semi-lucid state brought about by meditation or extreme deprivation. the vision is usually powerful enough to psychically scar it’s victims, and always features the imagery of a burning tree, though the exact details are largely mutable. The visionary parasite likes to choose imagery that will resonate with it’s victims, digging through their memories and cultural iconography to find suitable subject matter. From there Ohlzelth’s infection proceeds in a predictable pattern: first an overwhelming zeal in the victim as they are compelled to act on and interpret their vision. Then the development of psionic powers often perceived as a reward for the victim’s peity/enlightenment. More visions arrive, boosting the victim’s power and allowing them to attract more followers (telepathically sharing the vision also imparts the infection). Eventually the victim fully “Tunes In” to the visionary parasite’s wavelength, and suffers a complete break with reality or drops into a fitful dream from which they cannot wake. It is at this point that Ohlzelth begins to manifest physically, with resinous branchlike protrusions emanating from the victim’s skin.

In it’s true form, manifestations of Ohlzelth resemble a tree only in silhouette, and are mostly composed of a melted-plastic like material that coagulates around a wellspring of arcane energy. though it may be tapped to power many different spells ( as successors to the many cults started or coopted by Ohlzelth’s influence often do), the primary use of these false-trees is to allow for instantaneous transportation between any other Ohlzelth instance across the world, or even (for larger “groves”) across the planes. It has not escaped the notice of sages that in this way the visionary parasite bears a cruel resemblance to the world tree, and those forces that revere  that verdant pillar of the cosmos often consider the parasite among the most vile enemies of their faith.

Further Adventures: 

The order of hungry roots are a mercenary priesthood from the wretched plane of leng, who cultivate disposable members of their oder as a means to facilitate interplanar travel for their clients. Kept on a cocktail of rituals and drugs, these  "sprouting brothers” are restrained from “blossoming”  until their preordained time, which by all accounts is whenever whatever band of interplanar invaders or raiders wish to set up an easy portal. Raiding a leng-slaver’s ship may find one or two sprouting brothers on the way.. and the party may run into an alien individual going through the effects of withdrawal after fleeing their captors. 

A monarch has seen the vision of the flaming tree, and come to understand that the “tree” is their own bloodline under dire threat. Paranoia has turned the  once peaceful monarch into a tyrant as they comb the countryside for any trace of treason, and ensure that each and every one of their potential heirs is locked down in an isolated prison-place while they wait out their sire’s natural death. 

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: Consider Arctic Bees

Ran across a throwaway line about arctic bees in an SVSSS fic. There are some creative writers in that fandom, taking full advantage of the fact that Proud Immortal Demon Way was canonically a badly-written hash with excellent monsters, to do some really neat worldbuilding.

So. Arctic bees. What if you want something like that in your story?

First, decide how close to real-world biology you want your bees to be. Do you want “arctic bees” to be just another name for an actual Earth species? Do a quick search on bees in Alaska, Siberia, Greenland, or the Scandinavian countries. You probably want to do that anyway for ideas, even if you plan to base them more on magic or alien biochemistry.

Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the weirdness of bees, a few questions might come up. Should your arctic bees be solitary or colonial? Do they make honey? If so, how thick, and what quantities? Does it have the same healing properties as honeybee honey, based on hydrogen peroxide and high sugars dehydrating bacteria? Does it have extra qualities? Do the bees make wax? Propolis? What tree saps, resins, or other substances do they use? Are they strictly nectar/pollen-eating types, or are they like wasps and open to a little insect (or other!) meat as well?

Moving out into the wider world, if they’re bees, that implies flowers. What’s blooming, and when?

Note, you probably don’t need a month-by-month breakdown of this unless it’s important for plot purposes. (Or you just want neat background color.) You should put in details if the flowers are doing something unusual. Blooming in the middle of an icefield, for one. Invoking elemental fire to melt away the snow so they can grow. Or maybe they’re flowers of Ice itself, growing due to the magic left over by a long-forgotten battle between fay of ice and flowers.

And while we’re on the subject of striking visuals, what about those bees? Are they in the typical white/yellow and dark-banded mode? Green like mason bees? Or striking blues and whites to fit the winter theme? If the last, you might want to think about if you’re doing snow colors, or going with the more realistic theme of “coloration meant to deter predators”. Consider the blue-ringed octopus! If your arctic bees’ usual fellow species recognize that shade of blue means a sting that freezes you from the inside out, it’d have to be a really crafty critter who could plunder those hives.

Your characters are likely crafty. But are they clever enough?

[clonewarslover55]

Blood on Stone  Chapter one

Find the summary and notes here! 

Notes: Many parts of this story are of my own creation. I made the world and many OC’s for this story! And a great friend of mine helped me name some characters and the world!! 

also! This chapter is kinda short, but as we get deeper into the story it gets longer! 

Warnings Blood, gore, death, character death, alien things and technology, fight scenes that may be poorly written, lots of fighting and killing, Ki-Adi Mundi, cussing/cursing, OC’s, soo many OC’s, Xenomoprhs are gross and make nests from this weird clear gelatinous resin, so be prepared for alien goo and drool, violence and more violence, clone culture, alien culture, injury, major injury, acid and acid burns, advanced technology and medicine, fast healing, things get gross and not in the fun way ;)

 I will post the same warnings at the start of each chapter so I don’t spoil anything within! 

I hope everyone enjoys this story!! 

*Coruscant, commando barracks*

Fixer, Sev and Scorch looked up from their game of Sabacc when Boss entered the barracks, a holopad in his hands. He cleared his throat loudly, setting the holopad down. 

“Bacara and his boys need our help. Apparently they’re in a tough situation.” Boss spoke as he sat down beside Sev, glancing around the table. Sev sighed and began to clean up the game, all the brothers grabbing their winnings. They were playing for snacks instead of money. 

“We leave in an hour boys. I know this is sudden but Bacara specifically requested us. He desperately needs us. This is nothing like Mygeeto when they wanted us to scout out and prepare the battlefield. This is a far worse situation. I’ll explain on the way there. Until then, pack up Delta’s.” Boss’s words were strong and serious, he almost seemed on edge about this mission. This Delta’s grew instantly anxious by just Boss’s body language alone.

Scorch tried to lighten the mood, “So no bank robbing with Sergeant Vau and the Strill this time around?” Boss shook his head as he stood, “I’m afraid not Scorch.”

Within thirty minutes they were all packed up and ready to go, Boss silent and tense. He was setting the others on edge, and it was finally beginning to get to Sev. “Will you just go ahead and tell us? You’re grating on my nerves.” Boss glanced his way as he put a crate in the cargo hold of the small ship they’d be taking.

“Once we get moving I’ll tell you. We’re in a time crunch right now.” Sev only huffed at Boss’s words and stomped onto the ship.

The ship was a Corellian G9 Rigger-class light freighter. It was one they had stolen on a job a little while back. The Delta’s had fallen in love with the ship, and they customized it a bit so it was more their style. They also added a few more guns on it as well. They called the old silver ship Susie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Fifteen minutes later*

Fixer and Sev piloted the ship as Boss and Scorch sat behind them, all four armored up and far from relaxed. Once they jumped into hyperspace all three brothers turned to look at Boss, their gazes would burn a hole into Boss if they stared any harder.

“There was a distant transmission on some shithole planet in the outer rim, I think the name was Tarchceakeue…So, the Republic decided to send the Galactic marines in. Only because the surface of the world is plagued often by harsh thunderstorms and has a fuck ton of caves. Also it’s almost always nighttime there, dark as fuck for hours upon hours. The star is far away and the four moons do almost nothing for light.” He paused to clear his throat. ”We don’t know if anyone lived there, at least in the way of intelligent life. But they still wanted to get someone down there to check if it was friendly or possibly Separatist. Since the transmission was impossible to decode, it was better safe than sorry for them.” Boss shifted in his seat and continued.

“Well they came across these massive eggs in a cave and well…..Things crawled out of them. Fixer remember the hand looking creature we saw in R’tka’s ship? Yeah well those things jumped out. If it wasn’t for the helmets they would have attached to the faces of the marines. The ones they didn’t kill scurried off…..” Boss paused, resting his hands on his armored thighs, waiting to see if Fixer had a reply. All Fixer could do was mumble a curse.

Boss continued, “But what was worse was a few men getting dragged off deeper into the massive cave system by something. No one saw what dragged them off, just shadows and noises. Whatever it was though? It kept them alive…..” Boss looked at his brothers, all cursing and shifting uncomfortably.

Boss continued, “Anyways, later whenever a brother took off his helmet a hand looking creature would stalk him and come out of nowhere, attaching to his face. They currently have six men unconscious with one hand like creature stuck to them each.”

The Delta’s were silent as Boss continued, his accent thickening with his anxiety. “Oh and these hand looking fuckers? They bleed acid. Acid boys. There is no way for them to get off the faces of these brothers without killing them. One is dead from medics trying.”

Fixer shifted and rested his arms on his knees,  “What do they want us to do?” Boss sighed and looked towards the floor, “Help eradicate these eggs I suppose. And whatever may be dragging these men off into the shadows. They’re losing men rapidly and even the fucking Jedi is spooked, Bacara wants us there for some extra insurance I guess.” Fixer nodded at Boss, not very happy with that answer.

Scorch and Sev glanced at one another before Scorch spoke up, “Maybe R’tka could help us? He obviously knows what these things are!” Sev nodded along with Scorch’s words.

“That may not be a bad idea….” Boss spoke, glancing towards Fixer.

~~~~~~~~~

*A few hours earlier, the planet of Tarchceakeue(Which translates to Dark Place Of Caves)*

“I believe we need to call in backup sir.” Bacara spoke, his helmeted gaze on Ki-Adi-Mundi. The jedi didn’t say anything at first, his eyes closed and his arms behind his back. His Jedi robes were soaked through by the cold rain, but he paid no mind at all.

They were standing in their little makeshift base, which wasn’t far from a large cave mouth. Troopers sat and paced around them, the nerves in the area almost buzzing in the air. Bacara shifted his footing and glanced towards his men, all of them looking towards him with anxiousness in their body language.

“I agree.” Mundi spoke, his voice as soft as ever. “I thought we were coming here to possibly save lives….But all we have done so far is lose them.” Bacara nodded, his gaze going towards his mud soaked boots.

“We must eradicate these creatures sir. I know you’re not too keen on that option but I believe it is all we have left……We can’t just leave this place with it being this hostile. It could claim more lives or the Separatists could get ahold of it. Possibly weaponizing these creatures.” Bacara moved to stand in front of his general, the Jedi finally opening his eyes. The cold rain pelted them both, the water almost silver in the weak light of the four moons. Night lasted far too long on this planet…….

“I agree with you Commander. These hand-like beasts…..They feel off in the force. The ones we didn’t see in the caves even more so…The intelligence ...The darkness. It’s horrifying.” His eyes locked with Bacara’s visor and the clone nodded.

A medic, named Ket, walked up to them then, “Sir I truly believe you should wear a mask or something. Possibly a rebreather. Just anything to keep these things from getting you too. We already have six men in comas, one dead, and a few…missing…. we can’t lose you as well.” Mundi nodded at that, following the medic into one of the three large first aid tents.

Bacara followed them, “Explain to the general how these hand looking fuckers are working in the bodies Ket” The clone medic nodded at his commander, “Well sir they’re keeping these men alive and in perfect condition. It’s breathing for them….feeding them…..It’s keeping them alive. I even think the creature is altering their DNA, but we don’t have the equipment here to check. I’m a field medic, not a scientist after all…..So I have no idea why it's doing this,” Ket spoke as he began to dig through a box of supplies

“Odd…..Each of you men have your own signature in the force…But these men with the aliens attached. Something is very off.” Mundi’s voice was soft and calm, but laced with enough concern to spook Bacara.

“I’ll call in the Delta Squad, sir.” Bacara spoke, Ki-Adi-Mundi nodding, “Good. Make it quick, they need to get here as soon as possible.” He spoke as Ket handed him the rebreather, Mundi putting it on to protect his mouth and nose.

Bacara stepped out of the tent and looked out at the horizon. The rough mountains and canyons full of caves were everywhere, the faint moon light making the black and gray rocks shine in the rain. Bacara sighed and cursed, pulling out his long range transmitter.

[real-bjd-recast-community]

I collect legit and recast. I don’t see a problem with buying recasted Volks dolls. Their custom service is terrible and the whole on off model thing and the „company is king not the customer“ attitude piss me off. I can enjoy my beautiful Liselotte in peace without having to pay 1k

Well... maybe, if I might say so myself, Volks it's the only one that might have a little right to be snob bast*rs. And I'll explain why.

It's all about japanese culture.

Not even Asian culture. This is a "japan only" trait.

While Japan it's well known for a long list of good things, from sushi to sakura leaves, sailor moon or shintoism,

It might leave you with a lot of other things like this...

To which, understandably, western human reaction might be like:

So, in essence, JAPAN.

In Japanese culture it's always seen like the one who should work harder for the grater good it's NOT the COMPANY, but the employee or returning customer.

It's almost unheard of japanese people "breaking the moral contract" and buying from different companies. This means that if you're japanese, you're expected to work your WHOLE life on the SAME job, as well as to buy ALL your things from the SAME company. Even if in later generations the winds are shifting, there's still too much of that embedded on the cultural background.

So, many people have a mixed bjd crew (in the rest of the world), of different brands, colors and companies, but for japanese culture, this is simply heresy.

If Volks invented the new wave of resin bjd dolls back in the 99', and you consider they don't have any interest in "outsiders" having their dolls, you realize why to order a doll at (physically) one of their stores in Japan it's so hard, although you might get a standard vinyl DD doll, for not being considered to them "as important as resin ones",

if you want a SD resin one, you need to provide a Japanese shipping address and it takes around a month or two to ship. It's because that way they reduce the amount of tourist getting things (let's just be honest, you need to be loaded to have a two to four MONTHS vacation on Japan).

And their international sites mostly sale the leftovers of japanese releases or Dollparty.

So you get much better chance of getting a Japanese Volks doll from used websites and stores like Mandarake, since japanese culture often believes that souls and spirits can attach themselves to a doll after certain time, so they avoid to get this items "second hand" as much as possible. They even have rituals at Volks central HQ. Not kidding.

So basically Japanese people are the "aliens" of the human world. We all know their far superior than us in many ways, sure, but we don't fully understand them. And they will never take the time to try and understand us either (besides the necessary contact for general commercial relationships, that is).

And I'm not saying this as something against Japan (or Japanese people). I'm saying this because I have at least seven friends who, at some point, either lived in Japan (or are still living there), and themselves are japanese or half japanese. So the contrast in how the culture works It's amazing, and when they visit (here at my state), they tell us about all these amazing details that we, as westerns, cannot comprehend (and it sounds like something from another dimension or from another planet) but this only applies to Japan (and not even to Korea or China).

So Volks being the first company, and at the same time japanese, I can clearly see why they're so "snob looking", and why their dolls are such a fuss to get.

Now, do I agree with it?

NO.

Absolutely no.

But, let's be honest, compared to other companies, at least they have a great explanation for it. They're just utterly convinced that no one outside Japan should have anything made IN Japan, and hat's how they roll.