#render practice training arc

[abbey-abdominal]

My part of an art trade for a good good friend of mine who I hope promptly explodes upon seeing this. Nurse!Ragatha teasing Pomni (who is supposed to be sick but uhhhhhhhhh? Is being a simp a sickness? Google is being a simp a sickness?)

[wispstalk]

devotion

a piece i intended for summerfest ft. martin and baurus. ~1200 words

---

Among all the charcoal hatches and smudges there is a void. Blank white parchment, the color of death, roughly in the shape of an open book. Baurus could suggest the Xarxes��� contents with scribbles, but the blankness is intentional: a reflection of his own ignorance. What wondrous secret revelations are contained in this tome, the viewer might ask— then look to the troubled face above it.

The sketch just looks unfinished. A little too high-concept, perhaps, for his technical skill. Still, he’s happy with how he rendered the play of candlelight.

Working with light and shadow is new to him, a practice borne of the luxury of time. Baurus’s strength is faces. He can capture defining features in a few quick sweeps. He can work off the sparest description. It was how he led the Hero of Kvatch to Mankar Camoran— for all the good it did them.

He does not think himself an artist. It was only ever a casual hobby, a childhood fascination with what makes a face unique and what makes them all the same. Only when the spymaster caught him sketching his fellow trainees in the barracks did this habit take on value. Swordsmanship and tireless strength, the spymaster explained, are the least of a Blade’s talents. One must also cultivate the craft of observation.

After the Simulacrum, the Emperor saw schemes taking shape in every shadowy recess. Uriel wanted no more mysteries in his court. Every secret meeting, every tryst, every whispered conversation in the back of the council chambers: caught by a dissecting eye. Every visitor whose interest in the galleries or gardens was a little too keen. The idea was that if a plot arose, there might be a face to put to it, a moment captured, something to trace and therefore some way to get down to the why beneath the how.

(For all the good it did them.)

Now his duties are simple: he stands there, and he keeps watch. Or he did. Martin asked him (politely, stammering a little) if he would please stop looming. The Emperor’s trueborn sons were loomed over from cradle to grave; to them, the Blades were backdrop. This bastard heir, this farmer’s foundling, is not used to it.

So Baurus took the offered bench. Through this little crack in his discipline, the urge to fidget crept in.

(It took the heir some time to notice, but once he looked up while Baurus was doodling on a discarded scrap of paper. Martin made no comment, but extra rolls of parchment and proper charcoal sticks somehow made their way up the mountain in the Hero of Kvatch’s pack.)

So, as if it is his duty, Baurus keeps a record of the still mountain fastness where all fate hinges. Caroline’s hair ruffling in the wind as she takes off her helmet during a patrol. The complex gnarls of the Grandmaster’s fingers as he reaches to place a pin in his map. The Hero of Kvatch whipping in or out of the temple like a storm, all motion blur and restless shadow. Fortis and Pelagius out training in the sparring yard, the arc of an arm, the glint of pale Bruma sunlight on blunted steel.

But there is one conspicuous absence from his growing collection of faces. Their whole reason for being here. The very center of everything, and Baurus just can’t get it right.

He looks again at the sketch, and its subject. Furrowed brows pressed in thick dark hashes, smudges of shadow beneath the eyes, the stippling of three days’ stubble, a lock of hair twisted around a finger. A beleaguered patch above his right ear is beginning to thin from constant tugging. The gentle candle-glow does nothing to soften the jaw’s taut lines.

It’s a good sketch, from a technical standpoint. It’s true to life. Baurus crumples it and tosses it in the hearth.

“Your Grace?” he says softly. A little louder now: “Your Grace.” Nothing. So then, “…Martin?”

The heir to the throne jolts as if he stepped on a lightning rune. He drags the heels of his palms across bleary eyes and makes a noise like Buh?

“I wondered…” Baurus clears his throat to stifle the flush creeping up his neck. “I wondered if you wouldn’t mind sitting for a sketch.”

Martin blinks around the room, then points to himself. Baurus nods.

A shaft of sunlight splits the great hall, pouring in from those insecure high windows that Jena is always complaining about. Baurus frames up his hands and squints through them, and places a stool just so. After Martin eases himself down on stiff knees, his grimace remains.

“Your, er, you might not want to hold that expression for so long,” Baurus suggests.

“Ah.” Martin prods at his face as if the whole arrangement is new to him. “The first imperial portrait, isn't it? You'll have to take some liberties, I imagine. It falls to you to make me look wise and distinguished and pious and, ah— lordly, and all those things I ought to be.” He throws a sly grin over his shoulder. “And handsome. That’s an order, Bladesman. At least pretend I’ve combed my hair.”

As Baurus marks out loose shapes in negative space, he recalls the last portrait of Uriel ever commissioned. The painter had taken great care to hide the emperor’s age but gave him a certain jowly dignity. All the gravity of his years. Baurus, who was bodyguard to a very old man, saw what the painter had captured only once: when Uriel passed through the Hero of Kvatch’s cell and looked, unflinching, into the face of his own death.

The ghost of Uriel’s youth takes shape on the page. The curve of the nose in profile, the set of the jaw. But Baurus is careful not to diminish that which is all Martin’s own. The darker hue to his skin. His terrible posture, from all those hours bent to his translation. The fall of his hair, uncombed.

Baurus saves the eyes for last, scratching out faint suggestions first and coming back to tinker. His challenge, his crowning victory, will be to capture the eyes, the way Martin Septim now seems to see through the temple walls and track down the jagged mountain slopes, as if he slices open the thin skin of the world with his gaze.

Baurus works quickly, out of habit. He holds up his board to show the finished product. “It’s nothing worthy of the Ring Gallery,” he says, by way of apology.

Martin flicks his eyes up from the sketch. “The Ring Gallery?”

“The corridor outside the council chambers. It holds portraits of all the Emperors past. The most famous works, at least.”

“Oh. In the White-Gold Tower.” Martin gestures for a closer examination of the sketch. “I think it would suit me well. Picture it: all these grand frescoes, my vaunted ancestors writ larger than life, and then..." He lifts the drawing high in the air and flicks his wrist as if to slap it against a wall, this tiny piece of parchment with its dashed-off sketch. Baurus can't suppress a laugh, and the heir gives him one of those vague distant smiles. Never does he show his teeth. Always he looks as if he is keeping something back. "I'd rather have it for myself, though. Is that vain?”

“Of course not,” Baurus says reflexively, though something small crumples within him— he had hoped to add this to his collection.

The heir studies him. Picks him apart, translates whatever he finds beneath the mask of duty. “Terribly vain,” he decides, and hands it back.

[delta-gambit-au]

FAQ about Delta-Gambit

As I mentioned before, I think this post should clarify a lot of questions behind my project. If anything is missing, be kind to tell me so and I'll edit.

((05/OCT/2024 -- I'm going to unpin this temporally until I finish tidying up this post -- had a huge set-back IRL that will dent my ability to focus on the project)) ((15/SEP/2024 -- Still trying to catch up on pending stuff for my blog, now that I'm getting more confident with Ibis Paint on the phone and combining it with CSP, I'll be able to focus on doing some organizing on this blog soonish. After that I'll focus on the stuff I owe to other people 😳 (not 3D because I still can't buy a GPU replacement for my broken one, but at least I can draw picturs... if RL stops nagging me with their selfish requests) ((18/AUG/2024 -- I gotta do some cleanup in this post later down the month now that I'm learning how to handle better the blog's presentation by watching how other people do theirs. Please disregard the present mess until then.))

((05/AUG/2024 -- I think I should add some disclaimer here -- currently I'm working on the project very slowly due to several RL issues that doesn't give me enough spare time a day -- until I get a new tablet (now a new GPU) to work faster I'll keep posting sketches and other things that I can do on the phone and 3D renders of my AU and OCs of other people -- I apologize for the slow trickling of content on my blog and thank you for dropping by))

🔵 What is this AU about?

This AU branches out after a half-baked Pacifist Route in which the plea of Spamton has been ignored by Kris for too long. Everything else is as a normal Pacifist Route, but with a tasteful twist. The story revolves around Spamton mostly, but he isn't the sole protagonist of this story, as other characters come to prominence later on and get tangled in a deep conspiracy that puts all of their lives at stake. It's roughly a story about the lives of the Darkners in a Dark World more than character centric drama, but I get to weave a ton of narrative devices that so far is being loved by all my proof-readers.

🔵 Is this AU related to any other AU?

Nope. This AU was created without any knowledge about anybody else's AU in the past. In fact, I didn't know other people made theirs until I read about it and that's when I came to the realization that what I did was called as "AU" 👀 I started writing the prologue draft at the end of January 2024, but I did not make any contact with the fandom up until the end of March 2024.

🔵 Why you make so many experimental art not related to the visual novel?

Because that's my way of training art, and I'd rather pick my characters as theme and focus of my training than practicing with something else to be honest. I also need to practice drawing my characters more often so that I can stay consistent with the designs when I start to build up the visual novel in Unreal Engine 5.

🔵 Do you have any samples of the visual novel?

Currently nope, as I'm still in training, learning through an Udemy course a friend of mine gifted me to learn how to make visual novels in Unreal Engine 5. Until I get the script of the first season done, I'll not work on the visual novel, because it would be dumb to work on it and not have any complete chapters done to start sharing them.

🔵 Will the visual novel be free to play or?

The visual novel will be free to download, but of course, you can always give a tip of kromer if you think my work is worthy of it 😁

It will be published on Locals, Itch.io and on Steam (this last one further down the line because of how it must be setup and the $100 that costs to get a game slot on Steam).

I'd also upload gameplay of it on my YouTube and Rumble channels if you are more of watching others playing it than playing the game yourself.

🔵 You mentioned a "season". Is your visual novel split in seasons?

I thought about calling them "arcs" but then I settled with the word "seasons" because of how animated they are and visual-novel format is almost like watching a movie but with huge captions. I've enough material for 1 season (of roughly 12~15 chapters, depending if I need to split chapters more because of their length) and I have ideas for a Season 2 that can survive on its own up until Chapter 3, 4 and 5 of the original Deltarune comes. Then after we get more official Deltarune story, I'll be able to produce a third season.

(moved updates to a different post)

🔵 Why Spamton though?

idk, brainrot? My Spamton should be called DG!Spamton, to distinguish it from the original (or other Spamton in the fandom). Though both are similar (if not identical) mine has something that made a few Spamton haters to start to like Spamton. I don't know how to explain it… It just works ._.

🔵 How do you pronounce "Spwatchton"?

S-pwatch-ton

🔵 Are you a Spaniard?

Born and raised, and it shows in my odd way of writing. Hope you don't mind some typos here and there but I try my utmost to quash them when I see them 😅

Also and just in case, you may address me as he/him or they/them but since I'm NB you may use whatever pronouns you feel comfortable with 😉I love you all 💌 (in the most respectful way)

You may call me Spwatchton or Spwatch, we're not picky.

[usagimen]

The old ability masterpost is grimy, old, dusty - here’s a new one.

CURSED TECHNIQUE (Plastic Love): the brainchild of Sayuri’s obsession with pop idol figures in her youth. After the Shibuya Incident, this technique would render itself obsolete. Supportive in nature, it amplifies the user’s cursed energy output by five percent, when harmonized with others, Plastic Love offers a critical boost of ten percent allowing dance partners to tap into Sayuri’s knowledge of cursed energy along with her own to amplify their odds. This is purposely aligned to succeed the rate of Black Flash. 

INHERITED TECHNIQUE (Miyako Odori): Shapeshifter ability, most if not all young girls of the Kobayashi Clan are born with this technique. Though, it takes time to master && utilize to the fullest extent, thus one must train continuously throughout life. The majority of women will disguise their yokai features with Miyako Odori, it is the usage of RCT, thus the need for formal education but not everyone can successfully obtain the highest tier. It is essentially to steal the face, taking away attributes && disguising themselves seamlessly to blend into crowds. The alteration of their physical appearance grants the user a method of evading danger of becoming a saboteur priming themselves to enter the families true nature; assassination.

         For some women, they will train their whole lives, thousands of different effigies to be used, only for one target - that is the highest of honor. In the Past Arc, Sayuri uses it to enhance her physical features with brighter cosmic green eyes, she becomes ethereal granting an air of innocence to her. Secretly, she kept up the practice hence her seamlessly vanishing for seven years as she stole the faces of celebrities, gravure models, and idols to wear in order to evade those who knew her. Although, she is commonly hints to have never changed her eye color in fear she would forget herself entirely. Throughout the Culling Game it is shown without fail Sayuri has reached the highest tier one can in grasping Miyako Odori, changing her formation to deceive opponents or create ambush attacks.

OTHER ATTRIBUTES: Otherworldly strength, Sayuri’s body is tailored to an idealistic perfection that is considered that of weaponry. Throughout her youth she’s trained valiantly to succeed && push the thresholds of what is considered strong. Her fighting style is a mixture of kick boxing, pressure point martial arts, along with that of a pugilist. Although, she is considered to be a left hand user thus throwing her opponent off in the midst of combat.

OTHER SKILL SETS

Marksmanship

Proficient in the usage of blades, lances, other weaponry but hates swords

Excellent conversationalist when she must procure information regarding a target 

Proficient in the art of Geiko, strong points are song, dance, along with various range of instruments 

DOMAIN EXPANSION (Throne Of Heavenly Judgement; the Celestial Crown of the Universe): Culling Game exclusive, only seen during her battle with Uro, there are rumors that is blistering heat like an inferno that consumes all in a radiance of tainted gold. Fearsome, brutal, the raw strength of Sayuri conjured into one weighing the balance of what she believes is just within this world. It is a reminder she does not mimic that of a kind sun but one that seeks to find what hides amongst the darkness while holding firm in her scorching nature.   

[renton6echo]

For the Bad Batch ask: 12 19 &/or 21!

YES, @thebispaceace! Here we go:

12. Which Batcher are you taking with you on an undercover mission?

Woof. That's hard. Subtley is not their language, but Echo would be my first choice. (1) On a very practical level, despite his modifications he's easy to disguise. (2) Echo is an ARC Trooper. He was trained for this and knows how to be stealthy. (3) He is closest to a generalist that the team has. So he's flexible and would provide the best cover for all the challenges that could arise in a mission.

19. Which Batcher is the first to fall asleep at a sleepover?

Crosshair. I feel like he's an introvert that needs to recharge after a lot of socializing. So if it were a slumber party, he would be the one who finds a nice corner or high space and passes out with no pre-cursor or goodnight. Leave him alone. He needs his recharge time.

21. Which Batcher is the best cook?

Hunter. He has the best senses for making everything taste good and he treats it like an art. So he can follow a recipe but improvise and add his own spin on a dish.

I initially wanted to say Tech, but he strikes me as both too practical and also too chaotic. So he would either have no patience to cook and/or eat rations bc food is just sustenance OR he would experiment way too much with the cooking method or flavoring rendering it inedible.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND WORK

Could it be that, in a modern society, increasing variation in income is a sign of laziness. But I think server-based software you can build without studying users is the sort for which you are the typical user. But we weren't saying this to be benevolent. The minimum order for a factory production run is usually several hundred thousand dollars. That's the whole point of technology. I'm not saying there's no such thing. Language designers, or at least inevitable form, but it's the same thing with detective stories. The main complaint of the more articulate critics was that Arc seemed so flimsy. Suppose you're a college freshman deciding whether to allow deductions is that, if they do let you down, will still seem to have regarded wisdom, learning, and intelligence idiosyncratic.

When Steve Jobs started using that phrase, Apple was already an established company. It might be a good thing. So, yes, there does seem to be facing off in a kind of selection going on here too: they're exactly the companies programmers would most like to work for. There your job is largely a matter of spanning a given distance with the least strings attached. The founders thereupon proposed to walk away from the company, as well as your audience. Not so much from specific things he's written as by reconstructing the mind that produced them. A good running back is not merely determined, but flexible as well. But flexible, like a digital image rendered with more pixels. Here it is: I like to find a place where there are a lot of people seemed surprised that someone interested in computers would also be interested in it for its own sake, out of the way as soon as you can be smart without being very smart. Intelligence and wisdom are obviously not mutually exclusive. Don't disregard unseemly motivations. No one thought to go back and debug Aristotle's motivating argument.

The government could not do better than to piggyback on their expertise, and use investment by recognized startup investors as the test of whether people love what they do with it. As a little piece of debris, the rational thing for you to do everything. But those you don't. You'll find more interesting things by looking at structural evidence, and structurally philosophy is young; it's still reeling from the unexpected breakdown of words. The one saving grace was that English courses tend to favor pompous, dull writers like Henry James, who deserve black marks against their names anyway. Twenty-six years later, I still don't even have a flying car. Practically everyone thinks that someone who went to MIT or Harvard or Stanford and sometimes find ourselves thinking: they must be smarter than they were and yet had zero attitude himself. You could call it Work Day.

There is more to be actively curious. They wanted to get staffed up as soon as you get into an office, work and life start to drift apart. The most important reason for having surprisingly good customer service. Fundamentally an essay is a train of thought, as dialogue is cleaned-up conversation. Quite the opposite. Well, you don't take a position and then defend it. What are the great things to work on as there is for things that solve the mundane problems of individual customers. But due to a crime well enough executed that it had been forgotten. But the dictionaries are not doing a very good job. I understood them, but they have at least started to omit the initial Who is this guy and what authority does he have to write a parser or a regular expression library. Professional means doing good work, what you have is perfect. The most common unscalable thing founders have to do to get rich by creating wealth has been turned on and off the prospect of keeping it.

Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. It must be something you can learn. Instead of working back from a goal, work forward from promising situations. In the absence of other information, it would seem the noise is caused by the fan. Once, when I was about as observant as a lump of rock. No one does that kind of works. For example, in genetic algorithms and even product design. Consulting is the canonical example of work that wasn't very common in Confucius's day. People sleeping on airbeds in strangers' apartments?

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, the Berkeley CSUA, and Garry Tan for reading a previous draft.

[tinyapartments]

notes from our first trip to japan

luntian and i booked this trip very late because we had to make sure we were fully covered—she was awaiting the bar results and looking for a job as a new lawyer when we decided that we were going to japan to witness her dear friend’s wedding. given that it was both our first time visiting the land of the rising sun, there were expected back and forths on flights, airbnb bookings, and visa applications, but i knew we were both stoked to go.

japan in springtime is chilly, our friends who had been there warned us enough times. and this was what i was afraid of as someone who does not do well in the cold. the only preparation that i personally did for this trip was to stuff my packing cubes with uniqlo heattech, which i will only wear half of for the duration of the trip. i was happy to experience the springtime chill in japan without feeling like i will keel over to my death.

march 29, our flight left at 2pm and we arrived in narita at almost 8pm. a late admission if you will, but i had relinquished all the navigating to luntian since she is so much better at it than i am, and so i was quite surprised to realize that narita was still an hour or so train ride to tokyo. i was hungry (we both were), and since it was my first time traveling abroad after the pandemic, japan’s airport confused the hell out of me. what was i expecting? that the people would speak english to accommodate my poor bilingual ass? my years of watching anime rendered me useless when we were figuring out where to get our pre-booked skyliner tickets to ueno.

the train station was an entirely different hurdle: japan’s railway system will eat you whole. as i stood in the middle of ueno station in front of the gigantic rail pass map all i could think of was demon slayer’s mugen train arc and how the train itself was alive and ate almost all the passengers. i thought to myself: we are never getting out of here. i wish i could chalk up the exaggeration to simply hunger and exhaustion that night, but during our week-long trip, i never got the hang of the train station. and that’s just in tokyo.

for our first meal in japan, we went to mcdonald’s. tired from lugging our bags, navigating (this was mostly luntian), and arguing (because i was practically useless haha), we gave up and ate at the first thing we saw when we got off at ogikubo station. the design of the fast-food joint was fascinating but unsurprising given japan’s culture: the tables are arranged for solo diners. people would come in, order up, and eat their food alone while watching videos on their phones. it is quite lonely living in japan.

march 30, for our first morning and the rest of all the mornings we will spend in tokyo, we had breakfast at convenience stores (we actually had our first breakfast at lawson, and they had this decadent matcha pudding that i could not find in family mart, much to my disappointment). when we were still planning this trip, luntian and i already agreed that we would scrimp up on our food budget. it was quite a surprise to me that not only was convenience store food delicious, but it was also comforting. i looked forward to the mornings we spent walking toward family mart and planning ahead on what to get. but as creatures of habit, our breakfasts mostly consisted of the usual items: an onigiri of any kind, hot coffees, berocca (may baon kami!), seaweed soup, and a vanilla pudding for me. sometimes we’d share a melonpan or a chickenball skewer, but most of the time we ate the same thing every morning and none of us complained. i would do the same thing again when i come back.

rhea and ryo’s wedding was one for the books. the ceremony was at the infamous meiji jingu shrine. we lined up behind the bride and groom and walked around the public square (tourists were taking pictures of us, fellow tourists! haha) to get to the small temple where the wedding rites would take place. the ceremony was short, formal, and nothing less than cathartic. i could not understand a single word that the minister was saying, but the silence and the uniform gestures as well as the rituals (drinking sake and clapping to a beat) that even we as guests had to participate in was unforgettable. the reception was at meiji kinenkan hotel where we gorged ourselves on an eight or ten-course meal. i will never allow myself to forget about the lobster thermidor.

after the wedding, luntian and her friends had planned to meet in shibuya at night time. i was excited to cross the popular shibuya crossing. to my extreme horror, shibuya was swarmed with people. shibuya was teeming, filled to the brim, however you want to call it. you could probably stop walking in the middle of the road, and the sheer force and volume of people passing through would still carry you across. my probinsyana ass was not prepared for it, but i embraced it anyhow. we bought cheese pancakes from a hole-in-the-wall shop manned by a turkish guy. i greeted him with a most likely mispronounced marhaba (i only got to module 2 of turkish in duolingo), and he asked how to say how are you in my language. we had late dinner with amie at a small ramen diner where we had to google if it were rude to share your bowl with someone else. google said it depends. before heading home, our group had managed to take a shot at hachiko’s statue which was packed when we arrived.

march 31, this was probably one of my favorite days in our trip. we had a late start since the previous day was packed and we were recovering our spirits from how busy and crowded shibuya was. luntian and i agreed to never go back there for the rest of our trip. we went to the nearby mall and shopped at uniqlo (mostly items we will still need for our trip and some pasalubong for our parents). in the afternoon, we went to yoyogi park to participate in hanami—the activity of hanging out at a park by the cherry blossoms. we were disappointed, however, as the cherry blossom trees in yoyogi park weren’t in full bloom yet when we got there. we walked around the park, enamored by its enormity, while we waited for jake’s response on where exactly to meet up. jake, luntian’s friend from way back, is a graphic designer who had been living in japan for five years or so. he invited us to come over to his house which he and his partner, zach, had just recently built.

he finally spotted us while we sat on one of the benches at a nearby dog park within the park (it’s a really huge park). we took the bus to their house, which was also in the ogikubo area. their house sat in a very quiet and suburban area (which is how the entirety of ogikubo looked like, i suppose). it was the only house with a dark façade in an entire neighborhood of white japanese houses. on their fence was an embossed lettering in bronze metal (or was it gold? hard to tell in the night): zach and jake. i raved almost endlessly about this detail like i was the longtime friend he hasn’t seen in a while. inside was a cozy house with the kitchen counter overlooking the open dining and living area. jake baked and cooked as a hobby apart from his dayjob as a graphic designer. there we were greeted by their three adopted cats: snuffy, luca and oreo. jake fed our hungry stomachs with roasted chicken and tomato pasta—a simple but hearty dish akin to a mother’s cooking. while eating, i noticed his small collection of filipiniana books. i promised him i’ll send him more filipiniana books when i come home (i’m working on it!).

april 1, following jake’s recommendations, we went to kichijoji after another round of convenience store breakfast. it was just two stops from ogikubo and i must say that kichijoji was one of my favorite places that i went to in tokyo. not only is it much less crowded than other districts, but if personal and pasalubong shopping plus a gastronomic trip were the goals, kichijoji will never disappoint. from dry goods to dessert trucks to stationery stores, kichijoji got ur back. we were happy to find loft in there as our friends back home had pasabuy requests. i went crazy at the stationery portion in loft, needless to say. we had late lunch at yoshinoya since it was the nearest and possibly cheapest restaurant around. we had to make it to ueno by 7pm for a group dinner with rhea and ryo.

rhea and ryo booked an izakaya for our dinner. it was there that i learned izakaya were after-work restaurants that were usually for drinking and decompressing. essentially, what elbi square was to us in college. after that, they took us for a nighttime walk to ueno park where cherry blossoms were almost in full bloom and lanterns also dotted the trees. after walking the entire stretch of ueno park, the group decided to walk to akihabara and go to the gacha games. the walk to akihabara wasn’t short, but as someone who went to college in up los banos, it was fairly tolerable. our group of 15 charged toward akihabara, and it were only luntian and i who didn’t win at any gacha/claw games. she quietly threw a tantrum for the rest of the night.

april 2, we went to disneysea! we actually had not planned on going prior to our flight, and just made a last-minute decision on this. we had already passed up a day tour of mt. fuji as we weren’t sure of the odds of the mountain appearing (we should have gone because luntian’s friends saw mt. fuji), so we didn’t want to miss going to another cliché tourist destination in japan. i have been to two different disneyland parks in my lifetime, but luntian is a disney parks virgin. on the discussion of waiting for the light show at the end of the night or going home early to beat the swarm of park-goers on their way home, it was a no-brainer: we’ll watch the light show. it was a good decision nonetheless because luntian bawled to pieces when moana showed up at the performance.

we actually shared this disneysea trip with mac, one of luntian's friends, whom we accompanied to tokyo, tokyo (didn't know there was such a place! now the fast-food joint in pinas makes more sense!) before going to disneysea to hunt for onitsuka sneakers. we enjoyed the entire disney trip like a proper throuple (kimmy). after the amusement park, we shared a table with fran and ysa (more of luntian's friends) at isomaru in shinjuku. we talked about how fran and i are similar while ysa and luntian shared the same peculiarities.

april 3, with our return flight the next day and the question of what the hell to do with our luggage, we decided to take this day slow: we went to a self-laundry and washed all our clothes, packed our luggage more mindfully (instead of just buying another suitcase—essentially my idea because i give up too easily haha), and check in to a hotel in ueno where the skyliner station to narita is at. scrimping on food has left us with enough money for taxi fare to ueno (we didn’t want to lug our stuff from train to train anymore) and a one-night hotel check-in, thank god.

for dinner, we went to ichiran ramen house. the toll of walking long stretches, socializing with friends, and navigating a new city for almost a week was starting to catch up on our thirty-year-old bodies, and we wanted some good old broth to resuscitate what’s left of our energy. ichiran succeeded our expectations: a rich and hearty broth, starchy al dente noodles, and a serving of tender chashu pork were all we could ever need at that moment in time. and i was happy to discover that it isn’t expensive as well (clearly, i did not do any iota of research before this trip). we went back to ueno park to see the cherry blossoms once again and were pleasantly surprised to see that the small fair had started, and we were successful in the search for tanghulu!

april 4, we had quite a bit of time since our flight leaves at past 7pm, so luntian and i were happy to finally do something we’ve prioritized but didn’t have time to do on the early days of this trip: visit museums! it was a good thing that the tokyo met was just inside ueno park. we went there and looked at the free exhibits but again, we made another surprise discovery: the worcester art museum happened to be touring and they brought the original water lilies by claude monet. at first we brushed it off because it was a paid entrance, and we just roamed around the free calligraphy exhibit. but after a while, we were convinced that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see a monet painting in the flesh. what were the odds that they toured during our trip, too! so we threw caution to the wind and raced to the ticket booth. not only did we catch water lilies by monet, but we also saw original pieces by cezanne, metcalf, and pissarro. i felt as pretentious and as genuine of an art hoe all at once.

the walk back to the hotel was accompanied by the view of cherry blossoms during daytime. i think it was the first time in our trip to have come close to cherry blossoms in full bloom during the day, something that i probably need to have more appreciation of. it’s actually luntian who keeps on looking for parks where they are in full bloom to take pictures of whereas i would be happy enough to just sit on a bench and read a book. we walked around ameyoko in ueno as the last destination for our trip. it was the only place we were able to find souvenir magnets. everything else was expensive in ameyoko though, so we didn’t buy anything else than the magnets that our friends and parents wanted.

the trip back home went without a fuss except for the long line at the check-in counters. i must note that only the philippine flight was not allowed self check-ins in at the airport, so the wait was really a long one. i left luntian for a bit to continue a personal traveling tradition—buying books at airports/other country’s bookstores. i bought sayaka murata’s life ceremony, which, little did i know, happened to be what luntian was reading on her kindle. we were equally surprised by this serendipitous turn of events.

we knew we were home because the first thing that greeted us was the april heat in manila. the moment we landed, we took our jackets off while promising ourselves we would keep coming back to japan (hopefully with our families next time!).

[spr1n6tim30nionzzz]

my art training arc continues… this time some rendering practice and i was trying to make even more colorful art. i also applied some lighting knowlege from my lighting practice from last time. this one came out much better then expected but i def need some more practice still :D

edit: i forgot to crop it, ignore the time and the ad i dont pay for ibis paint and i refuse to >3

[gobboguy]

Chapter 20: The Inner Fire

Under the watchful canopy of ancient redwoods, Ionia delved into the relentless practice, the Spiritcall Glade becoming both her training ground and dwelling. For several days, she surrendered to the rhythmic dance of her practice sword beneath the starlit sky, the ethereal glow of the Pinnacle casting shadows over her determined form. Her entire life was dedicated to this task. She slept outside in the training grounds, beneath the stars and with her sword at her side. Her meals were ascetic, meager gruel consumed with a focus that mirrored the precision she sought in her strikes. She woke, she ate, she practiced, and she slept. That was Ionia's life.

The training dummy, its sackcloth surface whispering promises of mastery, stood as a stoic adversary in the clearing. Ionia, fueled by the fire of determination, aimed to pierce the marks left by Frahd with ten perfect and precise strikes. Each attempt, however, proved elusive, and frustration gripped her with an ever-tightening hold. The slightest deviation in the trajectory of her strikes rendered them slightly off, a maddening imperfection that echoed in the quiet glade.

What compounded Ionia's struggle was Frahd Kriska's forbidding decree – she could either pass the test he gave her or leave the Swordmasters, lest she be killed by her Swordmaster Coach. The days grew longer, marked by the relentless repetition of attempts that brought her no closer to success. The sun arced across the sky, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor, yet Ionia's quest for perfection remained unfulfilled.

As despair crept into her heart, Ionia confronted the daunting reality that a perfect cut to the center of an X with just the tip of her sword was already a formidable feat. To achieve it ten times over seemed an insurmountable challenge, an ever-distant goal that taunted her with the specter of failure.

Frustration reached its crescendo within the confines of Spiritcall Glade as Ionia, her strikes once again veering off course, threw down her practice sword in a fit of despair. The metallic clang of metal striking earth echoed through the quiet glade, a discordant note amid the symphony of rustling leaves and distant nocturnal creatures. The dummy stood defiant, it's surfaced marred by ten imperfect cuts; the cuts were either too deep and large or were slightly off or some combination of both. No matter what she did, it was never perfect.

With a raw scream, Ionia voiced her frustration to the heavens, the sky seemingly indifferent to her anguish. "This task is impossible!" she exclaimed, her voice a desperate plea that hung in the air like a lingering ghost of her shattered confidence. The weight of perceived failure settled upon her heart, casting a shadow over the once-promising journey to Swordmaster mastery.

As the moon rose over the horizon, casting an otherworldly glow upon the glade, Ionia's thoughts spiraled into the depths of her memories. Recollection stirred, and she found herself revisiting the harrowing encounter with the Harpy's Strangler. It wasn't a skillful strike or a powerful blow that had saved her; rather, it was her sudden mastery over her bodily functions, the ability to make herself resemble a lifeless corpse.

In the stillness of the night, Frahd Kriska's words resurfaced in her mind like a whisper carried by the nocturnal breeze: "Did you learn nothing from your brush with death?"

Could it be possible? Could she truly control her muscles with such clarity and precision that she could move her sword with perfection? A seed of hope sprouted within Ionia's heart, a fragile bloom in the face of overwhelming doubt. The Inner Fire. The Inner Fire of the human spirit that Frahd had spoke of. Could Ionia access it? She had to try.

With an inward turn of her focus, Ionia closed her eyes and delved into the depths of her being, seeking the elusive Inner Fire Frahd had spoken of. In the vast canvas of her mind, she envisioned a flame, an ethereal warmth emanating from her heart and coursing through her veins. The flames danced and flickered, casting a gentle glow that bathed her entire being in an otherworldly light.

As the imagined fire grew more intense, it began to seep into her muscles, setting them ablaze with an internal warmth. Every sinew, every fiber of her being, felt the heat, reacting with an instinctual twist and contortion, as if attempting to escape the fiery grasp. She took a deep breath, the rhythm of her respiration harmonizing with the imagined inferno within.

In her mind's eye, she pushed this inner fire out from her center to every muscle in her body. Her muscles were alive, twisting and shirking away from the flame that they could not escape. The conundrum for her muscles unfolded inside her – the only path to survival for her muscles was to move with the perfection she so desired. The imaginary flames coerced her muscles into alignment, molding them into a symphony of coordinated motion that responded to the rhythmic pulse of the Inner Fire.

Eyes snapping open, Ionia found herself propelled into a heightened state of awareness. The Inner Fire surged, pushing into her eyes and causing her gaze to focus with unwavering intensity. Every sense became finely tuned, as if in reaction to the inferno burning within. The air currents brushed against her skin like a gentle caress, the rustling of leaves transformed into a thunderous symphony, and even the dummy's canvas cover revealed its intricate stitchery under her newfound perception.

She remembered Frahd's words. "The cells want to continue living. It is the purpose of life to beget life."

Yes. It was indeed the sole purpose of life to continue it's own existence. Her body, threatened by the spread of an internal flame, was forced to function as she commanded it. Every sense was forced out of necessity to work at it's maximum function.

In this heightened state, Ionia stood as an embodiment of the Inner Fire's transformative power. Every sense was alive, every nerve on fire; she felt as if the turn of the world had ceased in anticipation of her next move. The beat of her blood was a drum, thrumming in her ears and singing in her veins, giving her muscles life and delivering the Inner Fire. It was all so simple, she realized. It was as if this was the culmination of her entire life.

As Ionia breathed, a deliberate exhalation that seemed to echo through the ancient redwoods, she allowed herself to sink into a moment of serene focus. The Inner Fire, that ethereal force Frahd had spoken of, pulsed within her, casting a radiant glow upon her every fiber. With each measured breath, she harnessed the energy of the flame within.

With a move akin to a coiled spring unleashed, Ionia struck out with her practice sword. The air parted around her as a perfect stab snapped out, swift and precise. The dance continued—two, three, four then six and eight and finally ten strikes, each one a manifestation of the newfound mastery she had unlocked. The dummy, once an unyielding opponent, now succumbed to her flawless onslaught, a canvas of perfectly punctured figures marking her triumph.

Staring in awe at the transformed dummy, Ionia marveled at the realization that she had gained complete control over her movements. The symphony of strikes, like a carefully choreographed dance, had revealed the depth of her newfound Swordmaster skills. In that moment, the Spiritcall Glade stood silent witness to the birth of a novice Swordmaster's prowess.

From the shadows emerged the sound of clapping, a rhythmic applause that heralded the arrival of Frahd Kriska. Stepping out from the trees, his skin transitioned from a camouflaged tree-like pattern to his normal tone, revealing him in his entirety. His smile, radiant as the moon filtering through the redwood canopy, conveyed the pride of a mentor witnessing the blossoming of potential.

"Well done, Ionia," Frahd congratulated, his voice a melodic affirmation. "You have taken your first step toward becoming a Swordmaster. Mastery over the body is the foundation, and you have proven that you possess the strength to grasp it. The Inner Fire within you has ignited, and with each strike, you become more attuned to its dance. This is but the beginning of your journey."

"Might be the beginning aye, but she's got more to prove." A melodic voice resonated from the depths of the ancient redwoods, its ethereal cadence weaving through the rustling leaves and woodland whispers.

As if in response to the call, the leaves on a particular branch shimmered and stirred. Suddenly, a young woman gracefully descended from the branch, her skin transitioning from a seamless camouflage to soft white, wavy red hair cascading around her shoulders, and her eyes revealing the vibrant hue of rich brown. Clad in brown leather armor adorned with delicate leaf patterns, she emanated an air of woodland grace.

"Lyra Ronchessac, as I live and breathe." Frahd smiled. "Did you decide to come down from your nest just for this morsel, little Sparrow?"

Lyra's face turned sour and she turned towards Frahd. "Don't call me little Sparrow Frahd. I've told you this countless times."

Frahd laughed and turned towards Ionia. "Ionia, I like to introduce you to your next Swordmaster Coach. Lyra Ronchessac, "

A seasoned figure with an aura of mystery. Lyra, turning towards Ionia with a confident stance, placed a hand on her hip and gave Ionia a dangerous smile. There was something about the woman that Ionia didn't like but there wasn't too much she could do. She'd have to meet her coach's challenge, no matter what it would be. Lyra's gaze, a reflection of experience and determination, met Ionia's, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in the novice Swordmaster's journey.

[sorenblr]

Can we get your quick take on each Jojo part?

Sure thing. I'll try to keep it punchy (spoiler for every Jojo part, obviously):

Phantom Blood

It's so sick that Araki just started drawing like Tetsuo Hara while Fist of the North Star was at the crest of its popularity. Never underestimate the viability of naked imitation in feeling out your style. I love Phantom Blood. Really cool to see him work in a more traditional vernacular with reasonable pacing. Back in yon day people would try to turn you onto the series by suggesting you skip the first two parts and go straight into Stardust Crusaders. I always thought that was psychotic. Luck... and pluck??

Highlights: The rugby match cold open.

Battle Tendency

Araki was getting really into Antonio Lopez around this time and it paid off in a big way. Joseph Joestar is a top-tier protagonist. He's such a dumb piece of shit. The Pillar Men reveal spread is a watershed moment in the history of manga. Lisa Lisa rules but Araki was simply too Kojima-brained to make good. The last proper training arc in the series is Joseph and Caesar trying to climb up a big greasy pole. Hey, not bad.

Highlights: Kars doing pro skater 3 moves to avoid landing on a flower, Joseph and Caesar threatening to shoot up a post office.

Stardust Crusaders

Joseph Joestar is back, and his piece of shit grandson won't stop smoking Malboro reds as the Joestar bloodline's most bisexual nemesis reappears from beyond time. Everything from D'arby on is golden, but until then the pacing struggles as Araki feels out the structure of those succesive tournament-style battles that define the series from here on. Really fun cast. Jotaro delivers one-liners like someone who was very recently diagnosed with CTE. Kakyoin can only do that puppet thing when he's evil?

Highlights: All the luxuriously rendered close-up panels from the final act. Araki was pushing this practice to the absolute limit before transitioning to the new idiom in DIU.

Diamond is Unbreakable

Joseph Joestar is back again and ready to face his most fearsome opponent yet: age-related cognitive decline. Killer cast and tone. Kira is probably the most compelling overall antagonist. I think Jotaro as mentor is generally more compelling than Jotaro as Clint Eastwood. Him getting finessed by a rat undermines any conversation you can have about power-scaling in this series, which is pretty good. Read the original Duwang scans back when they were the only viable English language source and loved it.

Highlights: That thing Josuke does with the motorcycle, any time Rohan has to interact with any other character.

Golden Wind

Jean Pierre Polnareff (French Joseph Joestar) is back, and buddy, it is so joever. It was joever before it even jarted. I don't dislike this one nearly as much after revisiting it fairly recently. Funniest concept and setting in the series. The Squadra goons are great and the Diavolo sweater bimbofication reveal is one of the hardest transitions in the series. Giorno having the personality of a root vegetable is a real drag on the whole affair, as is Diavolo shedding most of the interest to his character post-Doppio.

Highlights: I wish I loved anything as much as Guido Mista loves shooting himself in the head.

Stone Ocean

Jotaro Kujo is back, and his emotional constipation is finally about to pay off in a way that will make him wish it was his soul in that fucking turtle. In contention for my favorite part. Planet Waves is the strongest martial arts sequence in the series. Very refreshing that Jolyne is an insane Florida sukeban- the coolest thing the last guy did was pretend to drink someone's piss. Best climax of any Shonen. 'Anakiss' macking on Jolyne in the new world is really bad. I'll just assume this incarnation isn't a huge fucking freak.

Highlights: Everything from C-Moon on, Dio's insanely ugly children.

Steel Ball Run

Intimate male relationships are back, and the revelation of the empty tomb? Total bullshit, apparently. My other favorite arc. I think Araki's character writing excels when he allows himself to focus on a smaller cast and set of relationships. Artwork is breathtaking, a late peak that the series will probably never rebound from. No one has ever been more committed to the bit than Mountain Tim. Blackmore, kill this man.

Highlights: Mandom, Hot Pants & Diego vs. Valentine, the little blurb at the end that tells you about how the kid Gyro was trying to save died of a head cold.

Jojolion

I really need to do a proper archival read of this. My impression is that it's very muddled and unfocused. The 'mystery' never really compensates for the lack of a compelling antagonistic force, and I refuse to learn this much about plant husbandry. The bad guy's motivation was that basically he wanted to make a bunch of money. Is it a crime to grind?

Some high-highs and low-lows. Curious to see how it all flows when read together, since monthly the pace was incredibly plodding. Think everything I've mentioned is exacberated by this being by far the longest part. Still, Araki starts to lean into these luxurious double spreads to push the action here, and it's some of his best work in that compositional mold.

Highlights: Flashback arc, beetle fight, the one-off chapter where Joshu balls out insanely and doesn't learn a lesson.

man you really have to work for it if you want the original scans and not these ugly fucking digitally colored things. one of my least favorite things about the modern era of manga. nerds want this to be anime so bad

[abbey-abdominal]

whos that wonderful girl? could she be any cuter? who is that wonderful girl!? LOOK! Here comes a suitor!!!

[cdroloisms]

Do you think c! Quackity are skilled on the mastering of "necessary convincing" on a person? And man the stream yesterday was so intense dark theme.

hello ! 

this is testament of how behind i am in asks, haha, considering this was sent basically at the beginning of q’s visits and it’s been ,, uh ,, several months since then ASJKFLJAS - but im going to try to answer it now while pretending that we dont have months proving that c!quackity is very willing to do whatever the hell it takes to get the revive book from someone.

i think that the ,, technicalities? of the torture were never an issue - everyone in the dream smp universe has to know how to use a weapon in its most basic form, after all, just to defend themselves from mobs and stuff, tho some people are clearly more adept at using them than others. torture is ultimately just hurting someone until they do what you want them to do (way oversimplified, but this definition works here) - physically, if you’re able to kill a zombie, there’s functionally little different with inflicting harm on a defenseless unarmed human with no means of defending themselves.

the real challenge, as with most things in the minecraft roleplay, comes from the mental side - how far is c!quackity really willing to go? obviously he *can* hurt someone, but doing so also tends to go against a lot of our most basic instincts as humans. defying that becomes the real question to consider - and c!quackity, in his increased willingness to hurt not only c!dream, but everyone as he’s manipulated people more and used people more for his own gain in the last few months, seems to providing as much of an answer as we’re going to get. 

this obviously isnt to say that he isn’t conflicted, or that he’s pure evil !! but c!quackity, by his own admission, seems to hold little trust for other people and ideals anymore. his main goal is Las Nevadas and whatever he needs to make it great - anything and everything else is either a means to his end or an obstacle in his way. i dont doubt that there are chinks to this mindset to exploit, things that he cares about enough to take his single-minded focus off of Las Nevadas. as of now, though, i don’t think that torturing c!dream and the violence it’ll require of him will be that breaking point.

anyway, have a really dark snippet exploring c!quackity some more !! he’s really fun to write, though i don’t think i’ve really mastered his voice yet - practice makes perfect, i guess. heed the warnings and hope you enjoy! 

tw: torture, abuse, blood, injuries, branding, violence, death mention, abuse apologism, mental deterioration, dark content, dark imagery, very dark portrayal of c!quackity, pandora’s vault/prison arc

There’s a certain learning curve that comes with torturing someone.

It sounds obvious, thinking back, as much as it sounds morbid as all hell, but it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. Quackity swipes another stack of iron from a chest, momentarily grumbling about the cost, before melting down three ingots for the blade of his next axe. He could just do it in a crafting table, but there’s a degree of calm in the monotony of doing it all by hand, slowly watching as the iron begins to glow red hot in the heat of the furnace and then hammering it into shape on his anvil. He hadn’t been good at it before, had let Sapnap do the majority of the smithing for the three of them in the past, but. Well.

When you’re eating through several sets of iron tools a week, either from bending them out of shape against unforgiving obsidian or melting the blades past saving in lava or burning them all entirely, when he’s too tired to be bothered cleaning off the blood and simply chucks the used tools after a session into the molten rock outside the cell, you kind of have to figure out how to make your own shit so others don’t get suspicious.

He beats the metal into a block, humming softly over the clangs of his hammer. There’s definitely a learning curve to crafting weapons, too - he’s pretty proud of the ones that he can make, now, even though he’s still no good at any of the fancier furnishings and finishes (nor does he particularly care about them). Figuring out how to torture someone effectively was a similarly slow process - finding their limits and how far to push before something, inevitably, gives. He hadn’t exactly handled it the best in the first few visits, usually retching into the nearest wastebasket at the smell, at the feeling of blood coating his fingertips, at the screams ringing incessantly in his head. It wasn’t all that long before he forwent sleep altogether, devoting all of his time on paperwork and calls and anything that would deafen the cries that would’ve haunted him otherwise. He was no good with his tools, either - more than a few times, in those early visits, did he end up slicing too deep or going too far and needing to cut the session short for Sam to come in and administer health pots before Dream died and rendered all of their efforts useless.

(Sapnap had been the one to first teach him how to wield an axe, correcting his stance and his grip with gentle, calloused hands. He remembers them training on the newly laid dirt surface of Mexican L’manburg, sweat dripping down his neck from the sun beating against their heavy armor, Sap laughing at his unbalanced, heavy-armed swings and demonstrating with his own weapon, movements fluid and graceful as if it was an extension of his own arm. In the cell, he thinks of Sapnap’s voice, firm in his focus - feet at least shoulder width apart, hands braced on the axe handle, left sitting just above the end and the right just a few inches below the head - and swings.)

It had been...a process. A bloody, often painful process - his hands are calloused, now, in ways they never were before, from the constant handling of his many tools. His back aches constantly from bending over, and his shirt - more often splattered with blood than not - now bears some permanent pink stains that he can’t get out no matter how hard he tries. (The laundry, he thinks wryly, had been a hell of a learning process as well.) He picks up the metal with a pair of tongs, easing it back under the fire’s heat until it glows a soft pink, and then places it back onto the anvil to work - slowly beating the metal into shape.

He’s had to learn a lot. The lessons are fascinating, in a gruesome, morbid sort of way. He’d brought a brand the other day, painstakingly carved into a fancy, curlicued Q all on his own, used in his work at Las Nevadas originally to finish furnishing a few pieces of leather furniture he had scattered around the city. As Dream struggled under him, skin blackening under the white-hot metal, he’d immersed himself in the sight, far more similar to his past leatherwork than he might’ve originally expected. He almost wanted to do it again, just to compare, but the stress of it all had been enough to knock the prisoner into shock, which had put a significant damper on the rest of his visit. He watches the iron glow contemplatively from his anvil, not nearly as hot as he works at it.

Another dip in the furnace later, it’s heated just enough to work out the finishings, and he carefully knocks the ends into a blade. Picking it up with a pair of tongs, he holds it up to a nearby piece of glowstone, grinning at the finished axe head. There’s still quite a bit to do, technically - he still needs to sharpen it along with the other ones he’s finished, as well as fasten them to their handles, but even so - it looks good. He examines it, back and front, against the light. It’s probably his best one yet.

Quackity smiles to himself as he puts it down with the rest, pulling out his calendar from behind him and carefully marking another red X over the date. Learning to torture someone takes a hell of a lot of time, but. Well.

He has all the time in the world.

[countessofbiscuit]

Right of Bang

a post-Fives fic, feat. Commander Fox’s insecurities

1000 words | Teen | Ao3 . . .

Army admin had a funny sense of timing.

Fox frowned at the blasters, racked and ready for his use, and swore he heard ARC-5555 laugh as he marched beyond the grave.

“Ready to begin, sir?” Corporal June asked, in a plummy Timira City accent that hadn’t had its diction scuffed up. Smooth as his armor — and his just-dropped balls.

“Yes,” Fox replied, congenially as he could.

June cleared his throat. “Take control of one of the weapons, none of which have been under your direct supervision.”

Get back in that turret, trooper. Fox selected the pistol. If he was going to flunk out thanks to a box-ticking joke, better not make it the punch line.

Without being certified current in weapons handling, Jango himself would’ve found the armory doors closed upon him. Didn’t matter that they’d been fondling blasters since decant. Toy and training, of every make and model; one mind, any weapon and all that kark. Every year, twice a year, you had to demonstrate you were capable of operating the damn things.

And, now, there was at least one officer in the GAR who insisted Fox couldn’t.

Measuring his breaths behind his helmet, Fox conspicuously determined the weapon condition for June’s benefit. Chamber clear. Slide forward. Clip empty. No residual energy. Safety on. Still plenty deadly if someone wanted to try and make Fox’s day.

“Load!” June ordered, his voice not quite filling the corners of the range.

Fox unscrewed the chamber and wondered who was feeling more insecure.

The corporal being evaluated on evaluating Rear-Marshal Commander Fox.

Or the commander who’d lied on his last contact report.

The clone who’d flicked from stun to full power without blinking. Without thinking. Who’d put a lethal blast in a brother’s heart and had to convince himself he’d meant to.

And who hadn’t fired a shot since.

Hells, Riyo had probably handled his pistols more since he’d holstered them with hands that threatened to shake. Thoughtless woman. Refused a blaster or instruction, but apparently sashayed around with his in her robe while Fox slept because she was scared.

Slotting the clip, Fox made a mental note to review the overwatch outside her house.

Then he waited, a current of panic tickling his neck.

“Make stun ready!”

Fox went through the motions, deliberately. Safety off. Slide cocked. Stun engaged. Low-ready assumed.

Downrange, about twenty meters at its deepest, the target arc whirred to life. And the featureless holo of a humanoid, rendered by white lasers, flickered before the superconductive backstop.

Fox blinked.

It was random. The targets would cycle through at random, he reminded himself. SBDs, B2s, a grab bag of organics, and ... this thing.

Can’t trust a Corrie. They use whitejobs for target practice.

They didn’t, actually. Not since Kamino.

But Fives manifested just the same. Redundant tattoo and all.

Only thing worse than a soundly functioning ARC was an unstable one with a fully powered weapon. Even General Skywalker had attested to the readiness of his captain’s pistol.

(“‘Cause you didn’t give him a fucking chance.”

“To do what?! Shoot one of my men? Sorry if I don’t give more of a damn. I’ve lost enough of them to the 501st recently.”)

Perversely, Fox was grateful for the furore Rex kicked up. Never was more articulate than when someone mussed his hackles. It directed his choler outwards.

Forget his failing memory. Fox stiffened over his conviction:

Fives signed his own death certificate when he unplugged his failsafe hardware, went berserk on the Chancellor, and sallied out to 79s for a fucking fix. He’d just forced Fox to date and timestamp it for him.

Waiting, Fox stared at his fingers. He demanded them to obey.

The light appeared. The order came.

Fox stunned his mark. Then the next. And every sporadic target that followed, well within the mandated time.

“Stop!” June cried. “Clear the weapon, reload, and adjust to full power.”

Again, Fox demonstrated his proficiency with infoholo staginess.

The almost-Fives reappeared. And on the order, Fox put that shot back in his chest. Just right of center.

Because Commander Fox didn’t miss. He didn’t fuck up or flinch. He fired exactly when and where he meant to. With intention.

Every target got treated to the same heartburn. Even those that Fox knew possessed more than one. He fell into this same flow with the carbine. And the rifle — fuck, he loved the long lines on that thing. Heavy-hitting. Career-ending. Powerfully conclusive with the merest caress of his finger. He field-stripped, clean-stripped, and made them all safe upon command, while the air perfumed with ions. His confidence trickled back though grooves hewn by lifelong practice and fundamental pride, until the exercise was over.

“There you go, sir,” said June, renewing Fox’s licence to kill with a few strokes on his datapad. “In date and competent with the weapons system. Like there was any doubt,” he added cheerfully. His smile bounced so artlessly from his face, Fox couldn’t do anything but catch and throw it back.

“Am I free to congratulate a new skill-at-arms instructor?” Fox addressed the observing sergeant over June’s shoulder, who confirmed that he could.

Boozy with relief, Fox thumped June’s back. “You ever heard of the Den, Corporal?”

“... Yes, sir,” June replied, uncertain. Now truly nervous before a commander known to drop guardsmen for anything, up to and including nothing.

“When this damn lockdown’s lifted, I expect to see you there.” Fox tapped a code into the corporal’s compad. “Locate Lieutenant Rhys in a timely fashion, present that code, and he’ll add you to the guest list.”

June’s smile went positively nuclear. “Thank you, sir.” He clipped to attention, gave a salute to slice ice, and about-assed from the range.

You did right, son.

Fox wasn’t a danger to anyone. Every room was safer for him being there. Including that goddamn warehouse.

Rex would thank him, later. When that baby Senator Amidala was carrying had a father. And when Rex got to hold something he’d never get himself.

. . . . . 

(Ao3)

[dudeandduchess]

I finally reached the secret village part of the manga! *coughs* Lost my cool when saw watermelon waifu in hotspring *cough* so I was wondering of a scenario where the pillars accidentally walk into their girl s/o (before they started dating that is) while entering the hotspring but instead of the s/o panicking and all they smile and gesture them to join her instead :3 I honestly would love to know their reactions, ESPECIALLY Gyu's XD I can already imagine a 'exe gyu' stopped working moment XD

Ooooh. I loved that arc as well! Especially towards the end, like W O W. But my favorite has to be like the first half of the Infinite Train Arc. Ha ha ha *sad Rengoku noises*. Lol, I can really see Giyuu shutting down like that. Omg. I hope you like this one! Please, feel free to send in more requests. :D

Pillars’ Reactions to a nude and inviting non-girlfriend s/o (Slight NSFW bc of language):

Tomioka Giyuu:

He just wanted to get his sword fixed, gdi.

But his swordsmith kept pushing him to take a dip in the hot springs, bc that gaze of his was unnerving

So he did.

The last thing he expected was to see (Y/n) there; ALREADY NUDE

He may have had a teeny tiny HUMONGOUS crush on her.

So seeing her there, with her luscious curves on display fried most, if not all, of his brain cells.

tomiokagiyuu.exe has stopped working.

Giyuu cannot breathe.

A new water breathing form has been discovered: 12th form: blue screen of death.

“Ah, Tomioka-san, please join me.”

With a blush on his face, he would shake his head rapidly and just walk away.

Leaving a confused and very disappointed (Y/n).

She may or may not have wanted to polish his sword for him.

Rengoku Kyōjurō:

He was EXCITED to finally try out the hot springs that Kanroji had kept raving about.

Of course, he was shameless in his nudity as he walked up to the very top spring.

But when he got there, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the only woman who could singlehandedly render him stupid.

She was fully nude as well, and was not shy about it as she turned around and showed him her bare chest.

Flames in Rengoku’s heart? More like Flames coloring his face.

He remembered that he was bare for all the world to see, so he jumped in the water.

“Oh my, Rengoku-san, what a pleasurable surprise.”

Pleasurable surprise = Rengoku’s dick.

He tried to pass his embarrassment off with a hearty laugh, as he hesitantly sidled up to (Y/n)

��So how have you been, (Y/n)?”

This boi would try to act like everything’s fine, when it’s not.

But he would manage to survive his encounter; with new fodder for his fantasies

Shinazugawa Sanemi:

THIS BOI = 100% MAD.

He would want to walk away, but would stay rooted to his spot out of sheer stubbornness.

His face would be red with a blush, and he would try to avert his eyes to give (Y/n) some modesty. Even though she looked unashamed with her nakedness.

“Why are you even naked?!” Sanemi would bellow.

“Because taking a bath with clothes on would be dumb, would it not?”

She had a point there, but did she really have to choose that day— of all days— to be in the same hot springs?

100/10 would end up walking away and taking a dip in another hot spring; one that was very far away from (Y/n).

Bc, whether he liked it or not, he couldn’t get his heart to stop wreaking havoc inside his chest.

Uzui Tengen:

The moment he saw her, his expression would light up. Bc (Y/n) is a beautiful woman, and he’d always had his eyes on her.

She was so flamboyantly graceful, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

“What a coincidence, (Y/n). Are you getting your sword fixed as well?” The Sound Hashira would say casually, as he sauntered into the water in all his naked glory.

He would be so unfazed by everything, that (Y/n) would be the flustered one.

And then he would reach out and touch her cheek in the gentlest of caresses.

Lowkey, he’s considering making her his fourth wife.

Iguro Obanai:

The moment he knew she was in the village, he would do everything in his power to be in the same place as her.

It just so happened that the gods were smiling upon him, and they gave him the chance to ambush meet her at the hot springs.

Ofc, the moment she asked him to get in with you, he would act like it was the most appalling thing ever.

But really, he’s so happy inside that he could throw Kaburamaru in the air in celebration.

He wouldn’t really do that, bc he loves his companion too much.

He would slowly wade in with a towel around his waist, and sidle closer to her.

Would 10/10 try to put an arm around her shoulders, under the guise of stretching his arms along the edge of the rock pool.

Himejima Gyōmei:

He’s blind so he can’t see just how beautiful she was in the nude.

But he would still be appreciative of the chance that the gods have bestowed upon him.

He would try to work up to a confession, but he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

Because he is nervous as heck.

He can smell her lightly perfumed scent over the wafting steam of the hot springs, so he just keeps that in his memories for now.

Just until he could actually confess to her.

Tokito Muichiro (he is 19 for this, bc we’re all about spreading the love to legally-aged specimens here):

As soon as the words click in his mind, a blush would form on his cheeks.

He would pointedly look away from her, and even go as far as to enter the water while walking backwards.

He’s that careful to let her keep her modesty.

What he didn’t know was that she would gladly let him see her entirety— emphasis on gladly.

But he would be a gentleman about it, all the same.

Is lowkey afraid that when he manages to get a good look at her, he might never look away. He could spend his days getting lost in those curves of hers.

He’d also try to make small talk, which would end up tapering off into silence, because he didn’t know what else to say to her.

But (Y/n) was fine with that; after all, she loved Mui-chan the way he was.

Kochō Shinobu:

Would be UNFAZED.

Literally, she is the definition of unfazed.

She would still keep that smile on her face as she walked into the warm water.

She would only shed her towel once she was deep enough to cover her chest.

Really, Shinobu wasn’t very self-conscious about her appearance, she just didn’t want to make (Y/n) feel awkward.

Bc she wasn’t sure if her feelings reached her fellow Slayer clearly.

Or if (Y/n) only thought of her as a friend.

Kanroji Mitsuri:

Would also be shameless enough to shed her towel the moment she accepted (Y/n)’s invitation.

Mitsuri would practically skip in the water as she wanted to get closer to her s/o.

Of course, she had already confirmed if they were on the same wavelength, so she would boldly initiate things.

Would 10/10 try to make (Y/n) laugh, and will even compliment her body.

Mitsuri would start with her hair…

“Your hair looks so shiny, (Y/n)…”

Eventually, (Y/n) would get tired of all the compliments and just swoop in to kiss the pink-haired woman.

[yourillusoryenvy]

Did Chrollo doom the Phantom Troupe?

Disclaimer: Please note that I am mostly referring to the 2011 anime as I only picked up the manga where the anime stopped. This is my own reflection on the subject, and is not in anyway a fact or truth. Feel free to disagree! 

Neon’s Fortune Telling Power & Her Lack of Knowledge about Nen:

Let’s start by talking about Neon’s Hatsu. We all know that if given the full name, birth date and blood type of someone, she is capable of predicting the future with 100% accuracy, one month at a time, in the form of short poems, one short paragraph per week of the month. She has no knowledge of what she writes/predicts (and does not like to know what she predicted because she feels it will impact what she wrote).  First off, from my point of view Neon seemed really unaware of her nen ability. She is very well aware that she is able to predict fortunes that are 100% reliable, but she does not even seem to know how she does that: she does not know about nen, like Chrollo, Gon or Kurapika for instance. 

Evidence of this is scattered throughout the York New Arc. First, if she was a traditional nen-user she would have practiced all the other basic exercises and should be able to use some level of aura in a defensive manner. I cannot believe that a traditional nen-user would have so easily put their guard down around Chrollo, and used no aura to surround their body. Sure, even a trained Nen-user would loose in a battle against Chrollo but still! A basic nen-user could have limited the force of the blow to her head/neck. And since she would be more capable of defending herself, had she been trained with the basic exercises, she shouldn’t need SO MANY guards. The amount of guards that she has is what you leave with a powerless, defenseless person, not with a nen-user that has at least some basic knowledge of nen.

Next, she announces  that “her hand just write the fortune”, and to me that shows she actually does not know how she can give such accurate fortune. She goes on to tell Chrollo that “they say they are 100% accurate”. Why would a nen user doubt their skills? Compare this to Pakunoda’s reaction when Gon and Killua challenge her ability by stating that “she only extract the purest deepest unaltered memory” and that they won’t be able to deceive her. 

Sure, maybe an explanation is that she does not want to walk around explaining  what nen is and how she does it, but this actually bring me to my next point. Wouldn’t a nen-user, be able to recognize a fellow nen-user? And if so why didn’t she get bothered by Chrollo’s aura? Even Leorio that has the tiniest understanding of nen can tell that Kurapika’s “presence” has changed. Nen-user “feel” different. A non-nen user would brush it off but a nen-user would be able to tell whether a person is a nen-user or not. Had she been a nen-user, and in anyway aware of it, she would have been way more wary of Chrollo’s intention.

Lastly, let’s not forget that she has no clue what happened to her and why she can’t write fortunes anymore. Wouldn’t a nen-user suspect that their nen was sealed somehow? I am not saying she should know that specifically Chrollo did it, I am saying that if she knew about nen, she would know that a nen-user did something to prevent her from using her nen.

I Strongly Suspect that Neon Unknowingly Put a Condition on her Hatsu.

Now why is it important? Well remember what I said earlier about her hatsu, how “she doesn’t know what she writes (AND DOESN’T WANT TO KNOW)”? This is why it matters. A 100% accuracy is a hell of good rate, it’s almost as impossible as let’s say creating unbreakable chains or being able to steal another people’s hatsu... It most likely requires a condition. 

Neon’s goal is to help people know about their future so they can prevent the bad from happening. She states that she feels that if she was told about the fortune, it would impact it somehow. And what if it does? What if she unknowingly set a condition on her hatsu? One that prohibit her from knowing what she wrote, and if she is told then what she wrote becomes fate, unalterable destiny, something her “clients” cannot escape? 

Many time through the arc we are reminded that Neon’s fortune can be escaped if we pay attention to them. If it wasn’t an important fact it would NOT have been repeated so many times throughout: by Chrollo, by Neon, by some random mafia guy... Simply knowing people were using it should have been enough, but Togashi went out of his way to make it point that it was used specifically for this purpose. I think this is a hint to Neon’s nen ability. A hint that if that is her purpose she would need a condition defying the purpose of her nen, something rendering her nen less strong or useless. And what better defies the purpose of her fortune telling ability than rendering her fortune unescapable?

If it became unavoidable, I believe the person attempts to escape would only push back the inevitable. Sure their fate would not happen within that month (making the person feel like they escaped it) but it would keep coming for them.

I know I might be stretching it but stick with me a little bit more! 

Chrollo Used Neon’s Ability and Was Bound by The Condition. So What Does this Mean for the Troupe?

If Chrollo used someone else’s nen I’m assuming he is bond by the same conditions. For instance the indoor fish is for INDOOR only, he cannot alter it and make it useable outside. This was probably a condition set by the original Nen-user to render them more powerful. Similarly, while we can only assume, if Chrollo was to take Shizuku’s ability he could only vacuum non-living things, just like Shizuku. 

This mean in this case, unbeknownst to Chrollo, Neon’s extremely useful nen ability came at a cost: he could not know about what he wrote or its purpose would be wasted by the fortune becoming unavoidable. 

Now we all know what the Troupe did when Chrollo wrote them their fortune, they shared it with each other, out loud, in front of everyone including Chrollo (well except for Hisoka who hid the real fortune with Texture Surprise). 

At that point Uvogin was dead, next in line was Pakunoda. Now it can be argued that Paku died because Hisoka hid his fortune and convinced them to stay. Or maybe it was meant to be because Chrollo had learned her fortune? I mean how, knowing about her fortune, did she still manage to make the wrong choice and get herself kill? I know she cares about Chrollo but her fortune should have guided her! Well anyway for the sake of the argument I won’t count Paku. 

Next of course was Kortopi, who did NOT get his fortune read, but finally come my poor Shalnark (I am still not over his death...). Shalnark’s fortune talked about how he should not make phone calls, because when it matters the most he won’t be able to reach anyone for help. Lastly telling him that death will come calling one time in three. From what we see in the manga and the anime from that point on, the third time that Shalnark’s phone ring is when Hisoka kills him. His phone is shown ringing, falling to the ground as he lunges to catch Kortopi’s head (Hisoka I still hate you for that!). He did not have his phone anymore on him. At the time it mattered most he could not reach anyone. And death came on the third call... Isn’t this odd to you? 

Also let’s not forget that Hisoka could have killed Machi but DID NOT. An odd choice. He could have killed the three of them and send poor Kortopi’s head as a present to Chrollo. I don’t know, he did not have to keep Machi alive. Unless she was MEANT to stay alive, you know just like as her fortune said? 

Lastly, to support this argument Hisoka, who was the only one to know his real  fortune AND to actively try to maintain it, tells Pakunoda that “it seems that bit by bit fate seems to be changing”. This is a very odd statement. It makes no sense why it is changing, why did Hisoka fortune’s change? Why didn’t he get his fight with Chrollo when his fortune told him he would? Because had he fought Chrollo right then and there, he would have most likely won. Chrollo wouldn’t have had time to prepare and no “puppets” to use to fight. It would have been a tough fight, Hisoka would have been the winner and he would have had no reason to kill Kortopi and Shalnark. But if Kortopi’s and Shalnark’s fate was now unalterable, his own fate needed to change so that he could fight Chrollo later, loose, come back, kill Shalnark and Kortopi to accomplish their fates! 

What Will Happen Next (if the hiatus ever ends)?

I have three predictions as to who will die next. The first two depends on whether we count Hisoka leaving the Spiders as “a loss to the calendar”. All the Spiders fortune talked about how their legs are going to be cut in half a.k.a  6 members will die. Personally I don’t think he counts, but I can see the argument that he is a loss so I’ll include my line of thinking in this case. Currently as dead members we have Uvogin, Pakunoda, Shalnark and Kortopi. 

If we count Hisoka has being one of the 6 (as in he left the troupe),  then only one person has to die. The only person remaining who we know was meant to die in York New was Shizuku. Her fortune talked about her being alone in a room of stolen goods. The Black Whale is filled with goods, some probably stolen, all definitely soon-to-be stolen.. Considering the spiders are slowly breaking up in small groups exploring the ship I wouldn’t be surprised that at some point Shizuku finds herself in such room only to meet her death: Hisoka or Kurapika. Her death would be the end of the fortune.

If we don’t count Hisoka has being one of the 6 lost legs then inevitably Shizuku will die for the reason mention above, but another member has to die. That member will be Feitan or Phinks... Most likely Phinks in my opinion, because Feitan is too big of a character for him to be killed like that. I know there is no way to say whether it will be Phinks or Fei but my gut feeling tells me Phinks... Why one of these two? Because they are the only one who did not get their fortune read, and if the fortunes of all the other members have to become true, it can only be someone who did not get their fortune read that can die.

The last option which I believe in way less and really really really hope is wrong is that the fortune said the Spiders will get done to 6 members and so the “massacre” will not end until this happens. The spider is currently at 10 members so 4 more needs to die. Shizuku is one of them I’m sure of that, Phinks and Fei are more than fair game, and then Kalluto and Illumi since they did not have they fortune read. I can see Kalluto and Phinks dying. And then either Illumi or Fei dying grand finale style, as in Hisoka killed Kalluto and Illumi goes berserk or same with Fei after loosing Phinks.  However in this case, I think all other members become fair game. Chrollo, Machi, Bonolenov, Franklin and Nobu are all in danger. I don’t believe, and don’t want to believe, in this third theory but well it is still an option worth mentioning. 

  Conclusion:

Am I stretching the facts? Maybe. I am forced to since we are missing a lot of information, and can only make assumptions about some things. But I believe that some clues are hidden all over the manga and anime hinting that this could be a real possibility. Plus if you think about it from the writter perspective wouldn’t it be a huge plot twist. Imagine for a second a Kurapika v. Chrollo battle, with Kurapika actually knowing about Neon’s nen condition (e.g: she was told when she was working for the Nostrade to never read Neon’s ability to her) and being able to tell Chrollo that it is HIS fault that half the spiders died, that they could have survived had he not STOLEN Neon’s nen ability. Finally, Chrollo regretting stealing something, feeling  GUILTY for stealing, feeling GUILTY for what he did and the impact it had. I would personally love to read something like that! 

Truth is we do not know anything for sure and this is just a theory, but it is worth considering in my opinion. I have no doubt at all that Shizuku, and most likely Fei or Phinks are next. 

Anyway that it just my theory! 

P.S: English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar/vocab mistakes

[abbey-abdominal]

she do be eating noodles doe