#so warping space automatically warps time as well

[sn-613]

Hi!!👋 I’m very excited to say that I believe this is not cloning but within the normal scope of his powers!!! Because of physics!!! Let me explain just a little (also im new to the fandom/ not an astrophysicist so do let me know if theres any grievous holes in my reasoning)

So, all of this is hinging off of the Sonic the Hedgehog: Official Game Guide (2006) which says on Silver’s tutorial page “"The Teleport Dash is a psychic jump that warps space”

Now there isn’t actually a ‘fabric of space’ to warp buuut im pretty sure they’re referring to the fabric of spacetime. Which works in our favor here! See, you cant separate the fabric of spacetime into space And time, they’re irrevocably connected.

(Oh and im just assuming that if this aspect of his power is done by warping spacetime, than it stands to reason other aspects do too)

Now, everything related to spacetime is quite convoluted, so I’m going to be glossing over things a LOT. But if anyone wants me to try and explain everything more, just ask and i can write smth up :)

So, what im thinking is possible (stretching the rules ofc, bc our current understanding of spacetime pretty much disallows any form of influencing it) is that Silver is warping spacetime to allow us to see these past ‘hims’ in the present (pretty close to time travel, which is why i included @detectiveluckys comment).

Its a similar concept to how the light of our stars is not from the present, but rather millions of years in the past (is that a well-known fact? Idk) I’m also drawing off the phenomenon where stars extremely close to the sun appear to be positioned somewhere they’re not- their light cones are being warped by the sun’s gravity (think of it like how a straw’s position in a cup of water appears different than it actually is, because the light is being warped.)(that metaphor doesn’t hold too much weight, but it can help you visualize whats going on with the stars)

Notice how Silver first goes to each spot before he appears to duplicate himself. He could be warping his light cones (himself) from a couple seconds ago so that it appears he’s in a different spot than he currently is. Repeat this another time and now you have three Silvers!

Does that make any sense? Again, i can go more in depth on all of the foundational concepts, it would just make this a much longer post lol

in Silver’s special move for the trampolines he does a bunch of flips and teleports in the air and then splits himself into three copies. Silver just has cloning powers i guess

[purinminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ TWIRLING WARMTH -> sae itoshi !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ dancing with my phone by HYBS

synopsis; in which sae decides to unwind by using a tip you gave him cw: fluffy/crack fic , ldr , sae misses you , dancing , very ooc oh my god let me believe sae is secretly a massive lovefool , sae has a facetime auto answer feature (does that exist) , use of amor , gn! , unproofread + lowercase

"dancing, i'm all alone . figuring out how i can get you home"

living in his apartment without you was easy.

or so he thought.

he was currently sprawled across his bed, his arm stretched out automatically to make space for your warmth; which was unfortunately located a thousand miles away from madrid at this moment.

sae groaned, snatching his hand back immediately when he snapped out of his trance. how pathetic, he thought. he can't be caught wishing for cuddles like some lovesick fool, he should exercise more self-control than that!

naturally, he reached out for his phone to text you, like a normal person who doesn't yearn for his long-distance girlfriend would do:

[i miss you, amor.] 7:08 pm

[coming home soon, can't wait to see you.] 7:30 pm

yes, he really had impulsively booked a flight just to see you. yes, he was still definitely nonchalant. god, what have you turned him into?

it's only been an hour, but you still hadn't replied. he had to fight another dejected groan that threatened to erupt from his throat. but whatever. it was late in your place anyway, you were probably sleeping.

however, the fact that you would soon wake up to find his little suprise, calling him almost immediately, sent a little comfort to his sore bones. he really wanted to hear your voice.

ugh, seriously. what was in the air today?

frustrated, he exited the chat box and scrolled through his playlists. he reached a certain one that you and he made the last time he was with you.

he decided to listen to the music in there instead, that always relaxed him.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

"sae, when are you coming home?"

your pretty voice came out warped from the speaker. he scoffed silently, the phone could never catch your beauty properly.

"sae."

"huh, what?" "i said, when are you coming home?"

"never. don't want to." "not even for me?" "especially not for you."

"ouch, sae."

he chuckled softly under his breath, the sun filtering through his room and in turn illuminating his eyes. you had ample time to observe his face which, thankfully, wasn't pixelated.

"you okay?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?" you rolled your eyes. well, duh, he'd deny everything. your boyfriend was capable of many things. admitting he needed to cool off was not one of them apparently.

you hummed for a moment, thinking off into space as you watched sae rummage around for a blanket. then it clicked.

a sneaky grin spread across your face, oh yeah, he'll like this idea.

you set down your phone on the table, adjusting the camera so it showed your full body. then you grabbed your laptop and started playing music. was that.....pitbull???? mr worldwide???

sae watched you with disbelief. this was rare. he was never caught speechless. he blinked slowly as his eyebrows creased ever so slightly.

"what are you doing?"

"im dancing, sae. you should join me, it'll help you relax, you know?"

he saw you swaying side to side, twirling, bobbing around your head to the beat of the song, all with the biggest and goofiest smirk on your face. he scoffed, shaking his head at your antics. there was no way he was going to dance. ever.

"you look stupid. i'm ending the call right now."

"wait, no!"

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth as he recalled that memory. he wasn't much of a sentimental person, but he can make exceptions sometimes.

he just....stared at the phone for a few moments, gaping at the turning disc on the screen as he hummed absent-mindedly.

fine. he'll try dancing once. he'll see if it lived up to the hype.

he disconnected his headphones and raised the volume to max as he stood up from his bed. he scrolled through the playlist again, settling on his favorite. he felt awkward, so he tried to tap his foot to the beat.

hey, this was actually really fun.

soon, small taps of his foot moved to infect his shoulders. pretty much once the song ended, he was full on dancing. just as you had shown him to do. even that stupid twirl-hand wave (?) thing you did. he couldn't even explain it, but it was entertaining to do. he'll never tell you that you were right.

but unfortunately for him, you saw him already. he had left his laptop open, whose camera was perfectly facing straight ahead on his being.

you never wanted this to stop. you were having a blast. finally seeing your boyfriend have fun in what......months now? what a blessing. and so you remained silent, captivated by the incredibly awkward but endearing dance moves. stifling your laughs took so much of your restraint though.

sae should really turn off the auto-answer feature.

"dancing with my phone, thinking about you"

a/n: this came to me in a dream and is dedicated to my dearest sae luvr ILY ELO also the song he was dancing to was suisei - tofubeats (kariya seira) which according to the wiki is his fave IT IS SUCH A BOP BTW I LUV IT can uu tell i got lazy at the end hekp

[hulloitsdani]

What do u think Kiran is

How do u think the order sees kiran

*slowly sits up in my chair*

I think Kiran is a very normal person. This is someone you and I have met before. Be that from the other side of grocery store cashier, waiting in the same elevator, or walking by on a crosswalk. Kiran is a civilian from our world trying to roll with the punches of being warped somewhere completely alien. And you can see it in how they conduct themselves.

I always have a lot of fun writing Kiran’s dialogue because their casual modern speech almost feels like a dialect in comparison to the more formal fantasy tone everyone else speaks with. An “ain’t” will never exit Alfonse’s mouth, you know? And there’s a difference in “Do you have gold?” vs “You got gold?” To me, this gives Kiran an air of unfamiliarity to anyone they interact with. Let’s use Grima as an example, because it doesn’t sound like this grammatical change would make much of difference until Kiran has the audacity to hit Grima with a bro mid sentence. But that’s just how they talk. And as sweet and friendly as they are, there’s always moments like that to remind that no one has the cultural context to fully understand Kiran. Except for the audience, who can realize that Kiran let the customer service voice drop to talk to Grima like he’s an actual person.

And that’s just about how they talk! This view is only emphasized by every other thing about them! They’re a lovable goof, which is normal chill person behavior in the audience’s eyes but feels REALLY ODD to the characters of FE’s medieval fantasy war setting. There is this air of unknown about them that the more socially perceptive will pick up on and will try to come to a conclusion about. Example, I imagine Soren would interpret a lot of this as a dangerous and deeply annoying lack of intelligence from someone he has the displeasure of sharing a tactics table with. Or looping back to the Grima example, he would totally think Kiran has greedy ulterior motives behind that pleasant facade. It takes a lot of work for those types to realize that the discrepancy present isn’t really any of those things. But I also wouldn’t be too surprised if Kiran doesn’t try to directly prove any of those assumptions wrong unless they have to.

Why? Well now it’s time for the implications! Oh how we love the implications.

Because the Summoner is a different story. No one has any fucking clue what that is.

I can tell you what Kiran has pieced together so far. Summoning people from across time and space is apparently not easy. It’s not some school of magical study that some mage could pull off with enough time and research. Trust, Eitri tried. It’s a lot of complex moving parts. For example, the contracts. The contracts Kiran automatically binds their summoned to don’t even compare to the ones Veronica used in book 1. They are far more intense and infinitely harder to break. The only way out of them is if Kiran wills it so. Not even death is an option, because Kiran can come in for the revive. If they had to guess, it’s an older, more completed version of the art. Something lost to time. But no matter the case, Kiran has the ability to take full control of whoever they manage to summon. From a lowly farmer to the divine. And their power only grows.

In a similar vein, if there was any character to canonically see the hud, I think it would be Kiran. It’s genuinely part of their power set. I have previously described Kiran as the party mage until Veronica shows up to be the actual mage, but it would be way more accurate to call them a mystic/seer. They see the map, everyone’s stats, and is doing a fast amount of math to give the combat forecast. Then, upon processing all this information their enemies couldn’t dream of having at their disposal, Kiran can telepathically communicate any change in plans to anyone under contract. Kiran is not inherently some great tactician the moment they touch ground in Askr; they simply can do things no one else can. They’re learning the actual tactics part on the fly. This makes them simultaneously the largest ace up the Order’s sleeve and potentially its biggest liability. If they fall, it could cause a whole system cascade. By that same token, some of the biggest threats the Order has faced are the ones who do their research and rightfully target Kiran.

Now. Thinking critically about all that. That’s downright terrifying. A ridiculous amount of power has been dropped callously into Kiran’s lap and they have to work extremely hard to be moral with it. It’s terrifyingly easy not to be. It would actively take less effort to ‘take the reins’ as it were. But in order to be able to sleep at night ever again, they go the extra mile to not invalidate the will of their summoned. To take over like that. To make a colony of worker bees out of people. Because oh dear god they just summoned a child and the fact that they could easily force them to fight and die for them, only to be revived and do it all over again, is HAUNTING. No. No the Order has an in house orphanage now. This kid is getting adopted and cared for god damnit or Kiran might just pop a blood vessel. And sure that child is going to be a child and there will never be a world where they get along with everyone else, but that’s just going to need be a problem they address when they get there and not an excuse to use Hubris; the power set. Now replace the word child with everyone they ever summoned and you have the wider philosophy they apply to the entire Order.

They’re hyper aware of the power imbalance. They hate it with every bone in their body. They work really hard to correct it in whatever way they can.

So Kiran might not jump on the opportunity to correct those who think lesser of them. It’s… oddly comforting to know someone is keeping a critical eye on them. Holding them accountable. Especially since so much of the order just thinks of them as this quirky yet well meaning host. And, really, what can they even do about that? They have gone over the contract with every hero they summon and despite that they still choose to stay. So, what, do they try to inspire more mistrust? The problem with that they would have to actually do acts that intentionally inspire mistrust. And even if that was successful they can’t just waste the extra man power because every other month there’s some new divine asshole who wants them all dead. And if they fail that means they have to start their life from square one and god they can’t do that again so—

Just breathe Kiran.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Just breathe.

You have work to do.

[vexwerewolf]

Howdy! If you’re still taking lancer build requests, I could use some help. I’m stumped on how to build my Sunzi for support with a pinch of controller, and find myself asking “How would Dr. Valentinian do it?”

I was informed that you requested my advice on loadouts. Having now read your request, I feel as if you may be labouring under the misapprehension that I believe there's one correct loadout for all situations - allow me to assure you that no such loadout exists, nor do I believe that it does.

My ethos as regards the equipment choice for a mechanised chassis depends entirely upon the mission briefing and available intelligence. Who are we fighting? What chassis do they pilot? Are we outnumbered, or do we outnumber them? What are the strengths and weaknesses of both individuals within the opposing force and the opposing force as a whole? It goes without saying that these considerations will drastically affect my decisions as regards what equipment I bring with me.

Additionally, I am by no means an expert pilot. My speciality is blinkspace physics, with a secondary expertise in developing mechanised chassis. The majority of my children outpace me in piloting skill; I'm sure they could give you a far more comprehensive answer on this subject than I could.

All of this being said, I doubt you'd be satisfied without a straight answer, so allow me to humour you with the following loadout. I suppose you'll want me to name it as well, won't you? Very well - call this Sleipnir.

-- HA Sunzi @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] HA Sunzi 3, HORUS Minotaur 2, HORUS Goblin 1 [ CORE BONUSES ] The Lesson of the Open Door, Improved Armament [ TALENTS ] Skirmisher 3, Demolitionist 3, Grease Monkey 2, House Guard 1 [ STATS ] HULL:2 AGI:2 SYS:2 ENGI:2 STRUCTURE:4 HP:16 ARMOR:1 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:9 REPAIR:4 TECH ATK:+3 LIMITED:+1 SPD:5 EVA:9 EDEF:10 SENSE:15 SAVE:16 [ WEAPONS ] FLEX MOUNT: Warp Rifle MAIN/AUX MOUNT: Assault Rifle / Nexus (Light) [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, Blink Charges x4, Metafold Carver, H0R_OS System Upgrade I, Final Secret

Oh, you want me to explain it to you as well? I suppose I have time.

Sleipnir leverages synergies between the crude but effective blinkspace technologies developed by HORUS and the far more refined technologies I developed for the Sunzi frame. Metafold Carver's "Ophidian Trek" is an infinitely repeatable teleport that can be used to instantly rescue an ally from danger at up to range 15 simply by targeting them.

This revolves around the fact that you can target an ally with an invade and they can choose to make it automatically succeed; you don't even bother rolling dice to see how far you teleport them, because your Safe Harbor trait allows you to designate spaces adjacent to you (and this area expanded by the first rank of House Guard) as the endpoint of any teleport that affects an ally.

If you wish to pull an enemy out of position, you can use the same trick with your Blink Anchor; simply invade them using "Ophidian Trek," and then redirect them. This allows you to continue pulling enemies out of position even when your Blink Charges have been expended.

Speaking of Blink Charges, the Demolitionist talent also makes them more versatile, as they can now push enemies around (you choose the order of effects, meaning you can teleport an enemy and then push them back, allowing you to decide the exact direction of the knockback) and you can use them as mines without fear of losing limited charges.

I shouldn't need to explain to you the raw utility of the H0R_OS v1 system. If I do, you probably aren't competent enough to be piloting a mech.

That's all for now. I hope this was illuminating for you. As for me, I must get back to work.

[grimfalcon746]

Crashing on an Alien World

***Okay look, this one got away from me a little on the length. I just kept writing and didn't realize how long it got. Not sorry, just want to warn anyone before they start reading thinking its might be shorter than it is. ***

***

"All hands brace for crash landing" Came the captains voice over the alert system.

For the life of me I will never understand how they managed this, everyone on the space ship came from different worlds, had different cultures and languages, yet everyone understood each-other. I was told it had to do with the badges we all had to wear. Signified our rank, for sure, but apparently also instantly translated all languages to that of the wearer.

I strapped myself into my seat calmly, while everyone else did so while panicking. I just shook my head. We had all been warned of the danger, warping through uncharted space has its dangers. Sure the ship automatically disengaged warp drive when it detected a planetary body within a certain range, but that was usually too late to avoid it. All that was left was to strap in and hope the pilot could pull out of the crash. If not, well, we just hope to survive the crash.

The ship came apart as it slammed into the ground hard, scattering itself across the landscape as it rolled and skid. This seemed to be by design, kind of like the crumple zones on cars back home. It ensured the whole crew was still breathing when the dust settled. My body hurt from where the harness strapped me in, if I hadn't been firmly held in place i wouldn't of survived.

I assumed everyone would know the process here. How wrong I was. First I released myself, and did a self assessment. I was fine, would be sore for a few days but alive and mobile none the less. Time to check on my crew mates. Four other crew hands staffed the ship, along with four officers. The crew hands were all alive, three were unconscious and one was having a panic attack.

Carefully, over the debris and remains of the ship I made my way to the bridge to check on the officers. The captain was in the worst shape. Unconscious and bleeding, as he was the closest to the impact zone in the pilot seat. The Lieutenant was slightly better, not bleeding but also unconscious. The communications officer and medical officer were both disoriented, but alive, awake and breathing.

This was about the best case scenario here. First I made my way towards the medical officer. Not an easy task, as the bridge was warped and smashed after taking the brunt of the crash. I could tell he was still trying to get his bearings a little bit, but we had pressing matters to attend to.

"Officer Scutuk" I shot. "Are you okay?"

"I. I think so. Pain, but that can be managed." Officer Scutuk replied.

"Are you able to perform your duties?" I asked. I did not enjoy pressing this hard right after the crash but had little choice here.

"Yes." Officer Scutuk replied confidently after a brief assessment of himself.

"Excellent, the captain needs immediate medical attention." I instructed. "Three of the other crew hands are unconscious but seem to be okay, the Lieutenant is also unconscious and appears to be in rough shape. I have not checked on the communications officer yet.

"I will take care of the captain and ensure the officers get out of the ship safely. Please get the crew out of the ship and away from the debris as safely as you can. I will do a full assessment of everyone when I can." Officer Scutuk replied.

It was a relief to see he had his bearings and composure again. With a nod I followed the orders. The others were already starting to come around by the time I made it back to the crew area. Crew mate Sisseah had come out of their panic attack and the others were awake, in a very loose definition of the word.

The ship could shift, roll or collapse any second. With no time to coddle the crew I started giving instructions. With a bit of help from the more aware of the crew, we managed to get everyone out of the ship and onto the grass. We were on a foreign planet, fortunately one that was hospitable to life. The wooded area we landed in was in rough shape, however somehow we managed to avoid lighting a wildfire. A miracle to be sure but a welcome one that this point.

This is where things started to go off the rails a little bit. Well, at least more off the rails than crash-landing on an alien world. While the crew were all sitting or laying on the ground outside the ship awaiting the medical officer to assess them. The officers however were a little ways away, the captain on the ground and the medical officer tending to him, however there was clearly an argument being had.

Every part of my being wanted to go over there and see what was going on, but it was not my place. The officers would have to work it out, and what they decided to share with us after the fact we would have to accept. In the mean time I asked the crew about pain, nausea, being light headed, anything I could think of that would indicate a serious problem. This was in part to pass on to Medical Officer Scutuk, but also to keep them occupied, hoping they would not notice the officers fighting among themselves.

Eventually communications officer Strarciek made his way over to me. "The Lieutenant would like a word with you." He demanded.

"Lieutenant." I greeted as I approached. "You wanted to speak with me."

"Yes." Lieutenant Brurlod confirmed. "I wanted to thank you for your composure and assistance after the crash."

"You are welcome. I was just doing what should have been done though." I replied.

"Correct, however crew are not usually so proactive. Glad to see the newest member stepping up when needed."

"If I may." The voice inside my head would not let me keep my mouth shut. "I noticed you and the officers arguing a minute ago, could I inquire about the nature of that disagreement?"

"It's nothing really, a minor disagreement" The Lieutenant lied.

"We have 24 hours of food for everyone, assuming we can locate it in the rubble, and the closest possible rescue is 150 hours away." Medical officer Scutuk cut in.

"Officer Scutuk!" The Lieutenant chastised.

"So we need to hunt for food." I cut in, as the Lieutenant was about to continue.

You would have thought I had suggested we cast a spell to generate food with their response. They eyed each-other, before all gazes fell back to me. Looking back at their dumbfounded looks, I felt the need to clarify, which did not help the situation.

"You know, hunt and gather. For food. Sustenance. That stuff we shove into our face holes to stay alive." I explained before I could shut my mouth.

"We know what food is!" The Lieutenant shot. "What the hell do you mean hunt.

"You are an exploration vessel. Surely you guys went through survival training?" I asked.

"Well yea." Communications Officer Strarciek confirmed. "We learned how to send distress beacons, even when the main power of the ship was out. Also how to use the ships shields to keep dangers away until rescue arrived. Things like that."

"That. That's it!" I asked in disbelief. "What about hunting, gathering, building shelter, finding water supplies, building fires, prioritizing survival necessities."

"Why would you want to build a fire?" The Lieutenant asked. "Those are dangerous."

"To keep yourself warm in a cold environment, to cook your food, keep predators away. The list goes on!" I shot, losing patience.

"All features the ship is capable of." The Lieutenant said in a matter-of-fact voice.

With my patience teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff I replied when I should have kept my mouth shut. "You are entirely correct, I sure am famished but can't seem to get the stove to turn on, could you assist me please?"

"Of course it wont turn on, there is no power." The Lieutenant rolled her eyes.

If the point were water the Lieutenant would have missed it after falling out of a boat.

"So you see the problem. None of those features work when the ship has no power!" I snapped.

It was almost worth the court martial I am sure to experience when we get back, to see the look on the Lieutenants face as she realized the comforts of the ship will not help them anymore.

"Have the rest of the crew search for the food. Hopefully It is still intact. I will head out and hunt for food. Panels of the ship can be used for shelter, set up an area just inside the treeline, lean them against some thick sturdy trees at a forty-five degree angle. It will need to be improved but will work as a quick and dirty shelter until we can get something better set up. Water is going to be the problem. Don't suppose you guys saw any water sources on the approach?" I start issuing orders.

"I am the Lieutenant and you are the crew, you do not get to order me around!" The Lieutenant shot.

"Fine do nothing and die. The choice is yours." I replied already walking away.

I had not been on the crew long, less than a week, actually, however I was already starting to understand why there there was a perpetual vacancy on this team. It took some time, but I managed to find my luggage. Weapons were not allowed on the ship, as were were specifically listed as a non combat exploration vessel, however, fortunately, they did not seem to recognize a compound bow as a weapon. They believed it was a musical instrument. The arrow shafts I managed to convince them were fancy tools for demonstrations important to my culture. As for the broad-heads, fancy cutlery required for the consumption of certain foods. Looking back on it I should not be surprised they were so dense about survival tactics.

Bow in hand I went out into the woods to hunt for some food. for the first hour or so i was starting to wonder if this planet had no life on it after all. But then I found some tracks to follow. I was not an expert hunter but I knew the basics stay down wind, move slow and make as little noise as possible. It did not take long before I found a small deer like animal drinking from a pond. Perfect I thought to myself, two birds one stone. Some food, and a source of water. Both not too far from our camp.

Without knowing anything about the anatomy I could not risk aiming for where the heart should be, I had to aim for the head. The arrow found it's mark as the animal collapsed before it even knew what had hit it. It was heavier than I thought it would be, but I could still manage to carry it. Getting it onto my shoulders was a difficult task but once I managed, carrying it back to camp was tiring but simple.

I dropped the animal in between the makeshift shelters the crew had set up while I was gone, as the Lieutenant started her way over to me.

"What is that?" Crew mate Gusqan asked.

"Food." I replied.

"You just happened to find a dead animal out there?" Gusqan asked.

"No. I found a live animal. Then I killed it." I replied. The look of horror on the others face was a little exasperating.

"You have disrespected me in our conversation earlier and on top of that you brought a weapon onto a ship not rated for it. You must leave the camp and our staff immediately." Lieutenant Brurlod demanded.

"No." Was my simple reply. I did wonder how she thought this conversation was suppose to go, as she was literally suggesting I just wander into the wilderness to die on an alien planet.

"I outrank you. You do not have a choice!" The Lieutenant ordered.

"Technically only the captain can dismiss crew." Crew mate Sisseah interjected.

"And with the captain unable to fulfill his duties-" The Lieutenant started.

"He is unconscious, not dead." I cut in. "Besides that what is your survival plan without me?"

"What do you mean." Gusqan asked.

"Nothing." Lieutenant Brurlod lied

"They have 24 hours worth of food for everyone here. Closest possible rescue is 150 hours away, and the officers have no survival skills. Without me in the party you wont survive half that." I explained before turning back to the Lieutenant. "I am not going to allow you to sentence everyone here to death because you got your feelings hurt.

With some backing from the crew, the Lieutenant finally backed off. The crew had managed to find some cutlery in the remains of the ship, a far cry from proper skinning and processing knives for wild animals but they were sharp and got the job done. I was sure to teach the other crew how to do so, in case they needed to some day. They seemed impressed but also terrified of the concept.

After processing the animal and cooking over a fire (I also had to teach them how to build a fire, and do so safely as no one else knew how) It was time to turn in and get some sleep. I slept well, as I had spent many nights camping back on earth, but I also woke early. As I pushed myself up and stretched, I say Crew-mate Thruziel sitting on the other side of the fire, which they had kept going, staring at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Keeping watch." Thruziel replied.

"You know the fire and smoke would keep animals away right?" I asked.

"Keeping watch on you." Thruziel explained. "You are dangerous."

"Because I know how to survive?" I asked.

"You kill for sport, carry a weapon despite the rules and know how to skin an animal. You are dangerous." Thruziel replied.

"I mean, it's simple survival skills but sure." I relent.

"Why did you not kill one of us for food? You could have, and we were closer." Thruziel asked.

It took me a minute to come up with a reply that would satisfy him. I mean, technically he is correct. it would not be cannibalism, as we are not the same species, and with the state of everything after the crash I could have easily taken control of everyone, especially since I am the only one with a weapon. After a minute my brain found an answer that I thought he would accept.

"Sure. Humans are violent, brutish and impulsive. At least by your standards." I explained. "But there is also a feature of humans that you are forgetting. Our pack-bonding mentality. I did not even consider you as a food source because you are friend."

"Pack-bonding?" Thruziel asked again.

"It means we grow attached to those in our company." I explained. "Basically once a human see's you as a friend they will rarely hurt you. Some humans will, usually during formative years when our hormones block our critical thinking skills, but adult humans usually will not hurt their friends."

"You could just be saying that to placate me." Thruziel asked.

"You are right I could." I shrugged as I got up. That did not seem to ease his mind.

There continued to be tension between the Officers and myself, but considering their options without me were death it did not really matter. After a few days another ship landed. I returned empty handed from a hunt to find the new landed ship. Our crew-mates were no where to be found. The Captain was still laying, unattended where he was left, as he had still not regained consciousness. The Lieutenant was against the landing gear of their ship, arms bound up as she was beaten and bloody.

The aliens that had landed were huge. Nine feet tall and build like a brick house. Their four arms and orange skin unnerved me slightly. Given the state of the Lieutenant they clearly wanted to fight. They obviously had not noticed me up to this point, so I decided to strike with the element of surprise. Stringing my bow I took aim. They wore armour on their heads, but their torso's seemed to be regular clothing. I hoped that was correct and their heart was in the same spot as humans as I released the arrow.

My second arrow was already in flight towards the second when the first one dropped killed my first target. Their reaction speed was impressive as the second slashed my arrow out of the air with is sword, cutting it in half. My mind immediately started calculating. I was too far away with their reaction speed to get a successful shot off again, and I had no hand to hand weapons.

Just as my brain was realizing I would not be able to win without a close range weapon, one of the other aliens grabbed their fallen comrades sword and tossed it over to me. Landing blade first, it buried itself in the ground to the hilt. I braced, ready for an assault as I reached for it, before my Lieutenant spoke up.

"Run! These are Vilguls, you can't win!" The Lieutenant ordered.

"Take it." The alien spoke. "We want a good fight."

"Where are the rest of my comrades?" I asked.

"Most scattered into the woods, two others were taken onto the ship by our other two comrades." The alien replied.

"You are being rather forthright with your information." I subtly inquired.

"I could tell you everything. It matters not as you are going to die anyways." The alien boasted.

Tentatively I reached for the sword, ready to fight.

"Why aren't you running!" The Lieutenant demanded, pulling at her bonds.

"They have assaulted my Lieutenant, taken my comrades hostage and are hell bent on killing everyone on my crew. I tend to take stuff like that personally." I explained as my hand found the sword and I pulled it out of the dirt.

Tossing my bow and arrow to the ground I squared off to the aliens. Preparing for them to come at me together, however, only one approached me. Wanting to inquire, I thought better of it, and decided if they wanted to fight me one on one, who was I to change that. As the first combatant stepped up, I began to ready my sword.

They were faster than their size would suggest, as he swung at my head. Ducking the blow, barely I rolled behind him. Popping up already swinging, I cut a deep gash in my enemies back. He swung back, and I blocked it with my sword, causing me to be thrown back a good five feet. Rolling backwards as I landed I popped back up to my feet quickly. Noticing the aliens had a hard time seeing on their peripherals as a result of their helmets, I decided that what how to attack.

Time to go on the offensive. Raising my sword, I charged at my opponent. Smiling, he raised his weapon. When I was a few feet away, I sidestepped as far as I could before charging behind him. As he turned to keep up with me, I cut back. It was an aggressive move, as I almost lost my own balance, but I managed to get into his blind spot. With a thrust of my sword, I buried it to the hilt in his torso, cutting through both lungs and his heart.

With a final swing of his arm, he sent me flying as my grip on my sword failed me. The landing took all the wind out of me as I rolled coming to a stop on my stomach. Once my wits were about me again, I quickly jumped to my feet and reached for my fallen opponents sword, expecting the other one would have charged.

I was dumbfounded. The other one watched my kill his comrade and did not even charge while I was down. Sensing my apprehension the next alien spoke.

"We have no loyalty to our comrades. A hierarchy that must be followed sure, but a Vilgul falling in combat is their own failure. If I had attacked while you were down, it would have been an easy kill, but I would have been denied the sport of the fight." He explained.

"Your funeral." I challenged.

This one did not come towards me, but rather waited for me to approach. Taking off his helmet, he clearly noticed my tactic on the previous fight. Once I was in range, he stepped forward the swung his blade straight down on me. Side stepping it I swung back, aiming for his neck. Leaning back he smiled as he recoiled, drawing his sword back up. When he stepped in a second time he met my sword with his. Knocking it clean out of my hands with ease, he smiled.

I could see why he smiled, he thought he had won the fight as my sword was knocked away from me and I could not exactly turn my back on him to run for it. What he had not counted on though is where the sword ended up. It had happened to go straight towards my Lieutenant. The blade had cut the ropes binding her hands, cutting a deep gash into the back of her left wrist to boot.

I backed away slowly, also stepping to the side, forcing his attention directly on me and keeping his back directly to my Lieutenant. To further distract him, I spoke.

"How does a species who fights so well care so little for their comrades?" I asked.

Beaming, he answered. "Losing a fight is a failure. We fight hand to hand wherever possible. Projectile weapons are the cowards attack. Basically if you are a Vilgul, you are either strong, or you should die. That is our culture, how every Vilgul gets raised."

He had opened his mouth to continue, but my Lieutenant had seized the opportunity to attack. Running the sword into the back of the skull, the Vilguls words were cut short as he collapsed to the ground. As I grabbed his sword, the Lieutenant spoke.

"The other two officers are inside. The rest scattered into the woods." She informed as she applied pressure to the wound on her wrist. "You should still run, I won't be of much help in my condition.

Without speaking I carried my opponents sword into the enemy space ship. I thought it might be hard to track them down, but I heard quite the commotion coming from down the main corridor. Opening a door I was greeted with the sight of my two officers in the middle of the room, looking terrified with a sword each, as the two Vilguls covered each exit. The one covering the door I opened turned around and took a couple steps back.

"I'm here for my comrades." I demanded.

Smiling the one closest to me spoke. "We are forcing them to fight to the death. The winner gets to die by our hands."

I stepped through the door, causing the Vilgul to step back again, and motion to the middle. "Perhaps you want to join in the competition?"

"Why would I compete for the right to fight you when I've already killed three of you?" I mocked.

The Vilguls eyes widened at that remark. "That is not possible!"

"Actually it was rather easy." I mocked. "If you guys are going to insist on fighting hand to hand you should probably get better at it."

Allowing anger to take a hold of him, the Vilgul launched at me, thrusting his sword at me. Stepping to the side slightly, i directed his blade into the flesh on the side of my torso, through the fat, missing all organs and grabbed his wrist.

Smiling, he opened his mouth to mock me. Not in the mood for it, I thrust my sword into the bottom of his chin, cutting through flesh and bone as i shoved my sword through his brain. Giving my sword a good pull I drew it out of his skull causing his limp body to drop to the ground.

The final Vilgul looked on in horror, as I pulled the sword out of my torso. "Are you insane!" He demanded, drawing his own sword.

"Well, I'm human, if that answers your question." I replied.

"Human? From earth?" The Vilgul asked.

"Yes." I confirmed

"Take your comrades and go!" He offered as he turned around and left through the door he was guarding.

"Get off the ship. Now." I ordered my officers as I pursued my enemy.

Without waiting for further direction, both officers scampered out of the ship. My opponent only had one way to go, and I was close behind him. At the end of the hallway I came to a door, locked from the inside. Before I could challenge him to come out, the unmistakable sounds of the ship firing up could be heard. Realizing they intended to take off left me with no choice. I turned and ran to get off the ship.

The ship was already twenty feet off the ground by the time I made it to the door. Throwing myself through the open door, I landed hard, rolling through the landing the best I could, it still hurt like hell. I do not know if it was the exhaustion or the impact of the fall but I lost consciousness.

When I did wake up, Medical officer Scutuk was tending to the wound on my torso, other than that wound I seemed to be okay.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"What kind of psychopath allows themselves to get stabbed in order to open an attack on an enemy.

"Maybe not the smartest idea." I admitted.

"You'll be fine. Just try not to overdue it or your stitches will tear." He ordered.

It took a few more days after that, but eventually a rescue ship arrived following our distress beacon. The captain was still unconscious but managed to wake up on the trip back to port. No one in our party was too worse for wear and the rescue ship had great medical officers and equipment, it seemed the worst was behind us. After arriving at port, I collected my things and left the ship.

"Where do you think you are going? You have another six months on your contract to us!" The Lieutenant demanded.

"Actually I do not. In case you forgot, while we were on the planet you dismissed me. I only stayed with the group because you needed my help to survive." I reminded her.

"You. You can't take that seriously." The Lieutenant tried to back pedal.

"Actually I can. Best of luck on your future adventures." I replied walking away.

"So you are just going wander the port forever?" She asked.

"I'll find another crew. One that appreciates me." I replied not even slowing down.

"Good luck. No one will want you with your attitude" She snapped back.

"Excuse me, are you Jacob, the human who killed four Vilguls who attacked the distress beacon." A rather formal looking man asked.

"Yes." I replied.

"We are a mercenary group who have been commissioned by the Intergalactic Council to hunt down the one who got away from you. Attacking a distress beacon is a crime punishable by death after all. We would love to have another capable soldier on or staff." He replied.

Giving my former Lieutenant an 'I told you so' look, I accepted. "I would love to. When do we leave."

"One hour. Let me lead you to the ship. Our Intel suggests he went to Sade 57." My new captain explained "I am Captain Tilzeox, our mercenary group has served the IC for almost 100 years."

"Glad to be on board." I acknowledged as I made my way to my new ship to meet my new crew.

[daily-nikki]

Song of the Lost | In the Lonely Song

Availability: February 25, 2025 - March 25, 2025

*For the best experience with the main event questline, make sure you have your sound on to hear the voiceovers and new music.*

Keep Reading for the guide. Contains dialogue and spoilers.

In the same spot that we left off at, in front of the chained door, you will need to wait for Livie to wake up at night and talk to her. She'll be sitting in front of the door on top of her suitcase. Livie is only awake during the nighttime, so make sure that your time is set correctly, or just interact with the glowing ball next to Livie for it to automatically get you to the right time to start the quest.

Once Livie is awake and next to the door you're looking to open with the seals Nikki collected in the [In the Depths of Night] quest that's a part of the same [Song of the Lost] questline, you can go ahead and ask her how to break the seal.

► Dialogue

• Nikki: Livie, you're awake! How are you feeling • Livie: Re...covered... Time to... open the door... • Momo: Sounds like she's only a little better... • Livie: Master said... place the tokens where they belong... and their power will unlock the seal, open the door. Then I'll... see Philene... • Momo: Well, we've made it this far, Nikki. Let's break the seal! • Nikki: Livie, I have to know... why do you know so much about the ruins, and those spirits? Why did we meet? And why are you searching for Philene? ...You seem to know everything, but we don't know anything about you. • Livie: So many things... I can't remember... but... thinking of Philene... makes my heart feel... strange... I just... want to see her again, to hold her, to sing with her once more... Everything I know about the palace and the seal came from my master... Maybe someone important to her is inside. I have this feeling... When I see Philene, the gaps in my memory will be filled... Then, I'll tell you everything... • Nikki: I see... The desire to reunite with someone dear, I feel it too. I hope you find Philene soon when we enter the palace.

While you're placing the tokens into the spaces on the door, Livie will continue talking.

• Livie: First... place the royal insignia badge. I remember it was something my master longed for... [Nikki places the first token on the door.] • Livie: The second token... the locket. It contains... the only photo of the two of them... together... [Nikki places the second token on the door.]

• Livie: And the last... the ring... I forgot, maybe it was a gift...(Interact with the door to place the ancient ring) [A soft glow appeared as the sealed door slowly creaked open...] • Livie: Philene... wait for me... • Momo: Livie, wait for us!

Once Nikki has placed the last token into the door, the door slowly opens and we witness Livie run off ahead of the group looking for Philene. As Nikki herself walks towards the opened door, there is a glowing warp spire ready to be activated inside.

Nikki and Momo head off inside the underground ruins to find Livie. Past the warp spire, there is a broken stair case that you must jump down into the void below. When Nikki pops back up, she's underground in a new dungeon. There are a couple of comments from Momo on the drop down.

Nikki makes her way through the new dungeon, finding 3 Whimstars and 25 Dews of Inspiration by the end. She eventually comes upon a clearing where the group finds a familiar figure now turned into a cute bear plushie.

► Dialogue

• ???: Don't grab me, don't bite me, don't find me... • Momo: Nikki, I think I hear a familiar voice. Could it be Investigator Locke? How did he get in here? The voice seems to be coming from that bear plushie... let's check it out.

► Dialogue

• Nikki: ...Investigator Locke? • Locke: Get... get away! Stupid Esseling! Eh? Is that... Nikki? Praise the gods, I've finally found someone alive! Wait a minute, why aren't you a bear? • Nikki: Why would I be a bear? Investigator Locke, what happened to you? • Locke: What? Speak up, I can't hear you! • Nikki: I said, what happened to you, Investigator Locke? • Locke: *sigh* It's all because of the Queen's song! The night I got to the ruins, it started playing, and before I knew it, I blacked out. Luckily, I had a feeling the song was dangerous, so I stuffed cotton in my ears. That helped me keep some of my senses. Otherwise, I'd be stuck in the ballroom, playing violin day and night like the other bears. • Nikki: ...So Queen Philomia turned people into bear plushies just to play violin? Why the violin? • Locke: Oh, not just violins! There are all kinds of instruments! She kept talking about preparing a grand ceremony for her sister's coming of age... something about a "promise"... But her sister, Queen Olivia, passed away centuries ago. How could she possibly come to this forsaken place for a ceremony? • Nikki: So, the curse and the eerie song at night... were just the Queen's preparations for her sister's coming-of-age ceremony? I heard Queen Philomia was a ruthless tyrant, even cruel to her own family. Why would she plan a ceremony for a sister who's long gone? • Locke: What did you say? Ugh, if this keeps up, my voice is gonna give out. • Nikki: I wonder why a ghost Queen would still want to prepare a coming-of-age ceremony for her sister? • Locke: Oh, I heard that. Who knows, maybe her brain's gone rusty after a few hundred years... • Locke: I just saw a wind-up doll clunking toward the ballroom. Judging by the noise, its gears must be rusting too. • Nikki: It must be Livie! Looks like all the answers are with the Queen. We need to find her. • Locke: Wait! How did you even get in here? Can you help me get out of this cursed place? [Nikki explained to Locke how they entered the ruins and their mission to find the Queen...] • Locke: Guess you don't have time for me right now... Don't worry, I'll just hide here and wait for you to come back! Just be careful—Queen Philomia's a tyrant among tyrants. Who knows what the ballroom holds for you! • Nikki: We will! Thanks for the info, Investigator Locke. We'll rescue everyone and uncover the truth behind all this!

Nikki continues on her way to the end of the dungeon until the group comes upon a cutscene and we get to meet Queen Philomia for the first time. She mistakes Nikki for Livie, and thinks that Nikki has come to trick her. A chase ensues.

► Dialogue

• Philomia: You've finally come, Livie. • Nikki: Livie? No, I'm not... • Philomia: Hundreds of years later, and you finally came. The promised coming-of-age ceremony. Do you like it, Livie? • Nikki: ...No, I'm not the one you're waiting for. I'm not Livie. • Philomia: Yet, you have her aura! How is that possible? • Nikki: I'm not sure what kind of aura you're talking about. My name is Nikki. We're here to... • Philomia: Enough, liar! • Momo: The Queen... She's gone mad! Nikki, run!

[Chase]

• Momo: She got all mixed up, and now she's blaming us for it! • Nikki: How could Livie be the Queen's sister? Maybe...? • Momo: No time for that, Nikki! We gotta get out of here before the whole place collapses!

Eventually the chase will come to an end and another cutscene will commence. The Queen hears a familiar song and jumps out the window with Nikki following close behind.

► Dialogue

• Philomia: Be grateful that I, Philomia, Queen of Heartcraft, will be the last person you ever see in your life! This song... So familiar... • Nikki: It sounds like.. Livie's voice!

Outside Queen Philomia comes to the realization that Nikki had not come to trick her and that it was all just a simple misunderstanding. After things have calmed down, we get to learn more about the backstory of the dolls.

► Dialogue

• Philomia: This song... I wrote it with my sister when we were imprisoned in the palace... Ugh... The memories... they're rushing back... Everything is spinning... • Nikki: Are... Are you alright? • Philomia: It's you, young stylist. I mistook you for my sister, and for that, I apologize. Your voice, your mannerisms... they're so much like hers. Even now, with my blurry vision, it's hard to tell you apart. • Nikki: You can't see clearly? Is it ... because of the poison? • Philomia: It seems you've heard my story. And I've also realized why you're here. Since I woke, my sight and hearing have felt muffled, and all I recall from the past is that coming-of-age ceremony... • Nikki: You've forgotten so much, but you still remember your sister's ceremony—it must've meant a lot to you! • Philomia: I missed so many of her birthdays. That one time, I was ready to go—I'd prepared a surprise—but still... I didn't make it. • Nikki: Everyone in Florawish hears the same song coming from the ruins every night. That must've been the surprise you planned for her, right? You're insightful. No one knew about it, not even Olivia. Back then, it was her favorite piece of music. I had planned to sing it for her after the ceremony, out on the palace balcony... but, alas... Even though Olivia didn't hear the song, she must have felt it! Also, you called your sister Olivia, but earlier at the banquet, you called me Livie. Are they the same person? What about Livie the doll... • Philomia: Livie was Olivia's nickname, the one that we used in private. The dolls were named after the two of us. Doll Livie was a gift from me to Olivia, and Philene was her gift in return. For a very long time, it was only the dolls who stayed by our sides... • Nikki: That's why Livie the Doll knows so much about the people and things in the ruins. No wonder. • Momo: So Philene is your nickname? • Philomia: Yes, but it's been ages since anyone has called me that. • Livie: Philene... Philene... • Nikki: Is she... responding to you? • Livie: Master longs... to see Philene once more... to hold Philene once more... to sing together with Philene... once more... • Philomia: Did you come all the way to the palace... just to tell me this? • Livie: Find Philene... miss Philene... Master and Livie's wish is to be with Philene again. Master sealed the palace to protect Philene... Master wanted Philene... rest forever... Master will never forget... • Philomia: You're the only one who would say that to me, Livie! Well... unfortunately... time does not move in reverse. All things fade away eventually. However... perhaps... it's time for me to let go as well... Nikki, Livie, thank you. I've been adrift in chaos for centuries, and it was you who showed me my waiting wasn't in vain. You've awakened me. About the bear plushies in the ruins, I sincerely apologize. I'll ensure they're returned home safely, with the best compensation I can give. • Nikki: The truth is out now, but honestly... I still feel a heavy weight in my heart. • Momo: That was so moving... I think I'm going to cry... Hey, tears, you stay inside! I'm warning you! • Philomia: Don't be sad. Meeting you might have been fate's plan all along. You helped give my story the perfect ending. That song you sang earlier, would you sing it again? Thank you, Nikki. I'll be here, watching over your journey. May you shine for ages untold, forever radiant as a timeless song.

After the cutscene about Philomia and Olivia's past, Nikki and Momo go back to the Stylist's Guild to explain that everybody's got evil ol' Queen Philomia wrong.

► Dialogue

• Momo: Who would've thought the Queen's curse was hiding a story like this... Nikki, let's hurry back to the Stylist's Guild and tell everyone the truth!

[When entering the Stylist's Guild...]

• Dada: What's happening in the ruins? That rumbling is so scary... I hope Nikki and Momo aren't hurt! • Hiya: Don't worry! They're not just anyone—they'll be fine. • Momo: Captain Hiya's right! Nikki and I are far from ordinary! • Nikki: Dada, Captain Hiya, we're back! • Dada: Ah! You're finally back! O' Wishing One, today is truly a good day. • Hiya: Glad to see you're safe. Did you find anything? • Nikki: Momo and I are both fine, and we've uncovered everything. [Nikki told Dada and Hiya the truth behind the strange happenings in the ruins and the deep bond between the two sisters...] • Dada: It was all about her sister's... ahem, Queen Olivia's grand coming-of-age ceremony? I wasn't expecting that. • Hiya: So, the stories of people turning into bear plushies and getting pulled into the ruins weren't just rumors. • Momo: That's right! If it wasn't for Investigator Locke, we wouldn't have learned this either. • Dada: ...I see! • Hiya: I get it now, too. Just before you got back, the guards reported that the missing people had suddenly reappeared in their homes. At first, we didn't know what had happened, but it appears that the Queen sent them back. • Dada: I also heard they brought back some treasures—royal items from long ago. It must've been the Queen's way of compensating them. • Dada: What really gets me is how everyone believed the two Queens were enemies, when that clearly wasn't true. • Hiya: There's been so much misunderstanding in Florawish. Now could be the perfect time to clear things up. • Dada: I agree. They were sisters who deeply cared for each other, not enemies! It's time for everyone to know the truth! • Nikki: I agree! If her heart wasn't still tied to the past, how could she remain so devoted to that promise after all these centuries? • Momo: ...That's so touching. I think I'm going to cry... • Hiya: I suppose we won't be hearing the song in the ruins anymore... • Dada: I wonder if there will ever be a chance to hear the Queen's song again... Rest now, rest now, oh lonely soul. A wandering guest in halls grown cold, a fiery longing fills the air. Rest now, rest now, oh cherished one. A wind-up doll hums a broken prayer, old songs carry your whispered care. The hidden vow is honored at last, ancient notes sing of the past. Rest now, dear sisters, bound as one, till time itself is all undone...

And that's complete not only this quest but the entire [Song of the Lost] questline which opens up quite a bit more to do before the end of the event on March 25, 2025.

[lizadale]

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh dimigi smut??? bye

(nsfw)

[]

You’re not trying to be rude to him. It’s unintentional, this time, but at this rate you may be lucky if he ever lets you leave the house again.

You came home this night unsuspecting of your misdeeds, craving a home-cooked meal. To your chagrin, the corner of the kingdom you teleport in from is hours behind in the day, not that one could tell in regards to Forever Forest, where it always appears to be night. Popping into the entryway with all the lights in the house off and the hands of the analog wall clock pointing just past four was a bit of a disappointment, but you don’t particularly mind skipping a meal to instead enjoy the familiarity of a shared bed.

But barely do you shuck your shaman cloak and enter the quiet master bedroom when a snare of limbs surges up from the bed and pulls you under the covers, and you can’t help but yelp in alarm. Luigi must have snapped awake the second you entered his sensory range, and there’s something mildly malicious in the way he divests you of your remaining attire and begins sucking dark marks into your skin with less than a friendly greeting.

“H-having a late-night snack, are we?” you try to quip, addled by the feeling of his mouth over your pulse. Luigi is usually a model of restraint, sometimes borderline paranoid of touching you without ample warning of his intentions. Despite your best assurances, he believes you still to be skittish about even chaste touches, so this is worryingly out of character.

Then he practically smears the demand, “How long has it been, Dimentio?” across your collarbone and you realize you’re in trouble.

Simply put, your sense of time is terrible. Given your observations of the sage Merloo, you think it has a lot to do with your missing eye, so it’s not exactly something you can fix. You’re Ancient, anyway; a bat of an eyelash for you is easily a month for someone who only lives to a scant hundred years. Should you be blamed for this? No! Absolutely not. You can’t override your own nature.

…However.

When you spend an inordinate amount of time away from Luigi doing shaman work and then come back not realizing it has been literal days, well, perhaps you should admit a bit of responsibility in the matter. Especially when you neglect to check in all throughout.

You think back carefully to how many sunsets you might have witnessed in your recent travels, taking into account the odd parts of the Mushroom Kingdom where time is warped and spaces that mirror Forever Forest where temporal changes are not immediately obvious.

“It can’t have been more than six or seven days,” you hazard, but immediately by the scrape of his teeth against your throat you know it must be wrong. The last time he reacted like this it had been six days without contact—but then he had only wrestled you to the living room floor and refused to let you escape a cuddle for four hours. This is much more aggressive.

“Ten, perhaps. I will admit to ten,” you amend hopefully.

He lifts himself a little off you. At first, you think maybe you either guessed correctly or went over a bit—but then it seems he’s only raised up expressly to glower darkly down at your face. The moonlight filtered through the window glints off his eyes, making them even bluer than usual, and you’re considering how charmingly poetic that is when he shoves your head to the side and sets upon the left side of your face with tongue and teeth.

You gasp and writhe, back arcing away from the mattress, as he pulls scar tissue between his teeth and sucks it swollen. It isn’t painful—quite the opposite—but it speaks louder than if he had shouted “Wrong again, idiot!” in your face. You get your hand on his shoulder and—you adore this man—he automatically stills for five seconds to see if you’re going to push him away, but when you don’t that is all the reprieve he allows. You let your nails dig into his skin a little, rhythmically, and he makes a reluctant sound of approval deep in his throat.

“F-fourteen!” you exhale breathlessly. “Two entire weeks? Starlight, I shan’t survive this penalty—”

He growls directly into your ear. The vibration of it moves down your spine and gathers in a warm glow at your tailbone. “Nineteen,” he hisses.

Nineteen! You hardly believe that could be correct, but it must be if he says it is, because Luigi is the type to keep track. You can picture him sighing dejectedly as he marks another day on the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Becoming progressively annoyed at the lack of space in the refrigerator with every leftover plate he saves for you from dinner. Having to attend events alone without explanation of your absence other than an angry shrug when asked about it. Even his saintly patience has a limit, and you’ve always been very good at finding it.

He rubs his forehead against your cheek, and you feel his frustration with you become displaced by self-pity. “Starting to wonder if you were coming back.” He takes a steadying breath. “Considered hunting you down, but…”

“Mon âme,” you murmur apologetically, cupping the back of his neck. “Mi dispiace davvero. I did not mean—I may wander, but you are ever my home.”

He kisses you on the mouth finally, slow and sweet and deep, and you know you are forgiven. When you need to break for air, he nibbles on your bottom lip to avoid moving away entirely. Then he seems to realize what he’s doing and backs off, to your chagrin.

“M’sorry,” he says, sheepishly eyeing what must be over a dozen raised love bites marking your chest and neck. “Got a little carried away.”

The cold night air that sweeps along you due to the lack of his body blocking it makes you shiver. He’s only wearing boxers, which must be how he sleeps when you’re not around since you’ve always known him to at least also wear a shirt to bed; it makes it only mildly more difficult to grab his shoulders before he gets too far away.

“Where do you think you are going?” you inquire.

“I feel like you feel like I’m punishing you,” he says.

You want to shake him. How does his mood always switch so quickly from enticingly dangerous to embarrassed of his actions? “No, you think you are punishing me. Are you not still hungry?” You nudge your shin up against the hardness between his legs and he jolts. You scoff, “Come here, you fool.”

He misses a beat. “…It’s okay. I mean—”

“You must be under the misguided perception that I dislike being touched.”

“It’s—”

“That I somehow have come to abhor attention.”

“N-no, I just—”

“That I don’t perversely enjoy believing I am wanted.”

“You are wanted!” he says, horrified.

“Then act like it!” you snap, trying to jerk him back toward you—but he’s too startled to readily move, so instead you get your arms around his neck and pull yourself up until you’re pressed as flushed against him as you can get.

“Hngffr,” he says into your mouth. Seeing how he drops you back onto the mattress but keeps kissing you, you’ll interpret that as a concession.

This has been a point of contention for a great deal of time: you are impartial on the matter of sex, and Luigi, for some unknown reason, perceives your lack of interest as you hating it. Which is a completely unfounded belief, and you fail to see where he may have picked it up—you’re not in the habit of pushing him away unless you’re, say, currently trying to focus on doing something decidedly unsexy. Like studying a book. Writing a sarcastic report to Merlon about the dimensional state of the kingdom. Trying not to burn down the house making yourself some soup. And yet he has somehow convinced himself that you are against any form of physical contact that might steer you toward the direction of nakedness.

Which is stupid, because you’ve done this before. Pointing this out doesn’t seem to help.

“Under weird circumstances,” he maintains, now lightly soothing over the heated marks he left on you so roughly minutes before. “So it’s—”

“We,” you retort, exasperated, “are the definition of a weird circumstance. Are you trying to tell me that didn’t count? Is ‘weird circumstances’ referring perhaps to—what?—your lack of audiovisual senses? Did you think it was an accident that I started it?”

“Well, at the time—”

“Shut up!” you say. “Whatever argument you have is asinine and completely unnecessary. Also, fuck you for trying to abrogate my orgasm. It happened; I was there.”

He snorts against your neck, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “…There was collateral damage as evidence, so I guess—”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him blandly. The middle drawer of the nightstand still doesn’t fit on its runner properly. Luigi eventually bullied the reason out of you as to how the drawer had become so damaged; charmed by the story, he has refused to fix it since. It makes an almost unbearable screeching noise along the runner, and he frequently enjoys opening it as slowly as possible while making direct eye contact with you. Flirting with death, after all, has become somewhat of a cultivated talent of his.

Finally, his mood has lightened. He rolls onto his side, drags you into his arms, and wastes no time getting his greedy touch on your legs. He moves slowly, warm palm flat against your skin following the curve of your buttock down as far as he can reach, then pulling your knee up against his hip so he can get to your calf. He hums contentedly against your chest while massaging up and down. You never thought you might look forward to someone fondling your legs so, but his thorough touch is like nonverbal praise. Even though, really, you haven’t done anything to deserve it.

(“Mint condition legs,” he says dreamily, pressing his mouth to your heartbeat.)

Meanwhile, you have decided that he is no longer allowed to wear any shirts to bed. The amount of heat he puts off with no clothing to act as a buffer is bliss. You want to plaster yourself against him—so you’re slightly annoyed that he keeps sliding lower, decreasing the area of skin-on-skin contact. Your hands fist in his hair with a slight, persistent tug upward.

“Gimme a moment,” he demurs, lavishing attention on your navel.

His hands slither around onto the insides of your thighs. You make an undignified noise when his thumbs press into sensitive flesh, your adductors spasming involuntarily. (You hate that you even know what that set of muscles is called; curse his insistence on teaching you very specific yoga poses for very specific reasons.)

“Yyyyyeah?” he replies with obvious interest, and you can hear the raise of an eyebrow in his voice. Briefly you consider kneeing him in the chin and claiming it as part of the spasm, but that might be too much of a mood-killer.

He pushes at your hip until you’re lying on your back once more, and a spike of trepidation when he slides lower causes your fingers to pull a bit too roughly at his scalp. He stills, blinking up at you under the covers owlishly, cheek pillowed against your thigh. It takes him a couple seconds to realize what you’re saying “no” to. His eyes flick longingly pelvis-ward, but he instead presses an adoring kiss inside your thigh.

“I’ll behave,” he promises, though you can tell it’s a reluctant assurance, and you release the breath you’ve been holding.

You’ve witnessed this man juggle screws and bolts along his teeth, unwrap a piece of candy by putting the whole blessed thing in and spitting the neatly flattened wrapper out, and cleanly pit a handful of cherries after putting them in his mouth. If you steal his food without permission, he isn’t shy about wrestling it back from you mouth-to-mouth until you’re an overheated, scandalized jumble of indignation (you stole that dumpling fair and square, damn it). The things he can do by kissing you are already obscene; inexperienced as you are, you’re not sure what would happen to you should he apply those abilities to your nethers. At the very least, your soul might exit your body just thinking about it.

You have it in good faith that he is holding back, as tasting you seems to be one of his favorite things. He may be gently soothing your bent leg with his palm, but he’s also sucking the soft, tender flesh of your inner thigh between his teeth, and you feel yourself losing a generous portion of your mental fortitude with each passing second.

“You may bite,” you warn tremulously, feeling the insistent scrape of a cuspid, “but do not chew.”

He looks like he might have something more to say about that, but he just huffs out a laugh, breath gliding over damp skin and making you quiver. The hand not busy keeping your leg steady finds a home tending to your neglected erection with a gentle caress, and you draw air sharply between your teeth.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Ngh,” you allow from your warm haze. Keeping your hips level is becoming a struggle.

He keeps up this nonsense for another two minutes or so before you’re feeling overwhelmed and decide he’s been too far away for too long. Obediently he lets go and crawls back up when you pull at him this time. His hair is a mess from you twisting your fingers in it, but he at least looks to be enjoying himself.

You coax him out of his boxers so he can press bare against you; you seek every point of possible contact while you catch your breath. You’re expecting him to move, but he seems content to lazily nuzzle against your jaw with a hand tangled in your hair, and you’re not one to complain about getting a break. You shift one of your legs so that it slots neatly between his, thigh rubbing against his groin, and he makes a soft sighing sound in the back of his throat.

There’s a strange shift in the air, like an aura you might get before a very bad migraine, and that’s all the warning you get.

“Ti amo, Aurelo,” he purrs into your ear, and your entire body short-circuits.

An energetic tenseness runs along your limbs, causing your joints to clench one way or the other, toes curling and your fingers spearing white-knuckled into his shoulders. For a half-second you think he’s hitting you with Thunderhand, and then your brain starts trying to process several sensations at once, overloads, and clicks offline to reboot. In the meantime, you’re smothered by a heated feeling of excitement like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, and your body twists fitfully in an attempt to contain it.

“Oh,” Luigi breathes out, starry-eyed, and bears down to sandwich you between the mattress and his body so you can rut it out against him.

You feel your mouth is open; you might be making some sort of sinful racket, but you can’t tell your own voice through the vibrations thrumming along your nervous system.

Then the current moves out of you and it goes the other way; your muscles melt like butter, whole body releasing, veins filling with warm, heavy honey. Everything feels sluggish but divine.

Your darling lover, as is typical, has trouble reading the mood in direct relation to how horny he is at the time. “Fuck, that was cool,” he says enthusiastically.

“Tsssh-hff,” is all you can manage, jaw too slackened to finish any words.

He thumbs away the tears that have spilled over your cheek tenderly. “Is that what that button does…?”

The obvious fascination in his voice is alarming. Jaydes help you, if he does it again even within the same week, you don’t think you’ll ever come back from it. As it is, you’re struggling to get your eye open, now with a sense of urgency to make sure he knows right away that if he utters your True Name again in that same amorous fashion before you recover, you will certainly die. It would be the most sublime death ever recorded, but then you would never get to hear him speak the spell ever again—and that is unacceptable.

“…Are you gonna be okay?” he asks unsurely, shifting a bit away, and you growl in frustration at him. He freezes.

“—ouvve…”

You try to lift your legs. You nearly get one ankle hooked over his before it slides off. The amount of sweat covering you certainly doesn’t help.

“…Dio…?”

At least he has some common sense. Giving up on your legs, you weakly nudge your hand against his lower back. “Mmmmm—”

“You look exhausted.”

“Nnnnnh.” You’re not. You’re absolutely not. You have plenty of energy coiling inside you, but your body is liquid now and it won’t behave. You growl again at his stillness. “Mmm—”

You have to concentrate entirely too much to get your leg to stay around his, and even then it’s not quite what you want. He chuckles softly at your struggles. Your eyelid flutters slowly open, though your vision remains unfocused.

“Mmmmmove!” you finally ground out, tapping the back of your foot against him, spurring him like a horse. Again, it slides off and you groan, annoyed.

He gives you a charmingly confused look. You’re taken with the urge to bite his lip, but he’s out of your reach. “Uh, are you sure? You’re—”

One last resort. You turn your head a bit to look at the nightstand. You can’t snap your fingers in this state, but you needn’t worry about the appropriate lack of focus it takes to launch both the top and middle drawers into the bedroom wall. He’ll definitely have to fix it now; you hear the wood of one of them, most likely the already-abused middle drawer, splinter on impact. The nightstand wobbles with the force of recoil and then falls over, loudly taking a lamp and an alarm clock with it to the floor. A little collateral damage never hurts.

By then Luigi is already howling with laughter, but he gets the message. He grabs your knees and helps you get your legs around his waist, presses your erections together, and rolls his hips. You throw your head back and moan fervidly. It’s a bit overstimulating, but not nearly enough for you to make him stop, because if he doesn’t climax after all that, it would qualify as some sort of debauched hit-and-run. That would add insult to injury.

You’re already upset enough knowing you can’t give it back. He doesn’t have a special name you can use to make him feel how you feel, and it’s not fair. You can’t pump him full of endorphins simply with spoken word. He’ll never know what that feels like, and it’s devastating.

“H-hey?” he says, dabbing at your eye again. “Should—?”

With more of your motor skill recovering, you grab him by the face and kiss him viciously, a possessive, uncoordinated clash of tongue and teeth, and he moans blissfully down your throat. You bite his bottom lip on the way out, trying to tug him back in.

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” he informs you breathlessly, half-smug and half-dazed. His lip is swollen and bleeding. He runs his tongue over it thoughtfully, and you follow the motion raptly.

“That same truck will reverse over both of our corpses if you ever pull away from me again,” you say darkly, now that your mouth is in working order. “I personally will kill you, and then myself. Derogatory,” you add, because tone indicators are important; he’s still horny, after all.

“Mmk,” he says, clearly not listening.

Just as well, you think. You cross your ankles over his back and pull him as close as possible while still allowing him to grind against you. He’s still not really close enough, but then you remember that the nightstand is sideways on the floor. If you want to retrieve the lube from the bottom drawer, you would either have to make him get off the bed to get it or risk further collateral by trying to magic it over. At your current position, the estimated trajectory has a very high chance of nailing him right in the head. An amusing thought, but not really ideal.

“…Why are you laughing?” he says suspiciously.

“Am I not allowed to have fun?” You didn’t realize you were laughing out loud, but now you’re hard-pressed to stop. He’s borderline jolting it out of you.

He squints over toward the nightstand; you must have glanced at it. “And why do I feel like it’s at my expense?”

“Jester’s privilege~!” you crow blithely.

He considers this for a moment, kiss-frazzled moustache twitching wryly. “Does that mean I’m king of this court?” Then his grip on your dicks together tightens purposefully and you choke on your laughter.

“Wanna remind you,” he says lowly, reviving one of the blossoming bites on your neck, “you’re the reason there’s no lube.” Apparently, he agrees that it’s too far away. For all intents and purposes, it stopped existing as soon as it was out of reach. “If you’da let me use my mouth, though…” (Yeah, well, if he’d just resolved to bed you properly earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have had to destroy anything.)

You huff shakily, barely audible over the creak of the mattress springs, grievously overstimulated but still stubborn. You rake your fingers over his spine and enjoy the way his muscles tense underneath.

“Just gimme like…three minutes,” he murmurs.

As terrible as your sense of time is, you’re certain it takes less than three minutes, but saying as much would expose you to comment. By the time he’s satisfied, the jelly-like condition of your body has subsided, and the two of you are much less kissing than panting into each other’s mouths. You hold onto him as he shudders through release, and the urgency keeping you afloat leaves you in a rush of sudden exhaustion. You can already feel the soreness of your joints is going to be an issue come morning.

He gives you some space while you cool down, lying flat on his back beside you with his left hand in your right.

After a moment, he sighs. “Dimentio, where is your phone?”

Oh. You definitely forgot to take it with you. You definitely left it on a table or counter somewhere when you left for work. You turn onto your side and curl against him. “I won’t let it happen again,” you avow. “I will check for it, next time.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and you wonder if he’s going to forgive you this time.

Then, he says, “I think I put it in the nightstand.”

“…Ah. Well, then.”

He yawns hugely, pulling you until you’re settled overtop of him, and quickly drifts off, unconcerned. You think of your shaman cloak, draped over a chair in the darkness, and wonder if anyone would notice if you never went back to work.

[thelodgesquadau]

The revival of Kiss from a Rose - Part 1

A self-indulgent AU in which my self-insert makes a home in the woods within her own dreams, to spend time with her numerous fictional lovers. Sitcom-style shenanigans ensue. Well, okay, not in this part. But later. Also sometimes heavier topics will be discussed. But also not in this part.

Everything’s just been getting so out of hand lately. The world’s a mess, people are cruel, and I can’t seem to find a place to belong. Sometimes, there’s little elsewhere to go besides into my own mind. I don’t want to bury myself away forever, or escape the world completely, but a temporary refuge, just for when I’m asleep…that would be nice. I think I’d be content if I could just have that little slice of heaven for myself. 

So one night, when I went to sleep, I filled my head with thoughts of building the perfect hideaway. A place for me and anyone else I wanted to invite. I knew I wanted to build it in the woods, a deciduous forest to be precise. I’ve never lived as close to woodlands as I would have liked, but I’ve been on enough camping trips and woodland retreats to know that a deciduous forest is the kind of environment I’d want to have surrounding my dream house. I pictured a gorgeous forest dotted with evergreens and trees bare with the current winter season that would turn all sorts of beautiful warm colors in the fall. And when I opened my eyes, I found myself in that forest, right in the middle of a large clearing. 

For a moment, I listened in, breathing in the crisp winter night air. It was quiet and still. No animals would be out and about for some time, besides maybe a few deer and small birds in the daylight. I imagined the sounds of people living in this clearing. Laughing, talking amongst themselves, a few voices singing in the distance. Then, I opened my eyes again. Yes, I thought. This was the place.

I began with the image of a large wood-and-stone ski lodge. It would have to be a home and living space for much more than just myself, so I wanted to make it large to begin with, to minimize how much I’d have to alter it later on. I added a special feature to the doors, which I kept at a standard height for now--they would automatically adjust to the height of anyone that tried to enter. I made sure the ceilings were all quite high, knowing I’d want to invite at least a few individuals who far exceeded natural human height. I made sure the main living area had plenty of seating. I placed a large fireplace at the leftmost side of the space.

No one would really need to eat in the dream world, but large gatherings just weren’t the same without food. So I added a kitchen and a dining hall which matched the overall ski lodge aesthetic of the place. Everyone would need a place to sleep, but I figured I’d handle those living arrangements as the place gained residents, not before. I figured it would be easier to ask the guests what they wanted directly rather than guess for them. And I didn’t like the idea of conjuring up a full set of spaces right away if they weren’t going to be used immediately. So for the time being I just built a large blank room, intending to gradually fill it with doors that would act as warp points to the residents’ homes. Rooms for other activities and purposes could be added later. Now, it was time to start sending out invitations.

But before I could start drafting them up, something pulled my attention away. A voice, a deep baritone, was echoing throughout the trees that surrounded my refuge. It was singing, an operatic tune whose words were too muffled by the walls of the lodge to make out. I walked outside, listening in to pinpoint the direction of the sound. I knew the voice well, but it seemed to be coming from all directions at once. I couldn’t figure out which direction to choose in order to follow it. But at least I could make out the words, now. 

“Come, wayward souls, that wander through the darkness, there is a light for the lost and the meek…Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten, when you submit to the soil of the earth…”

If I couldn’t follow the voice to find him, I’d lead him to me, instead. So, I took a deep breath and tried to make my voice as loud and proud as possible…which wasn’t easy, after going several years without choir practice.

“Grow, tiny seed,” I began at a soprano pitch. “You are gone to the tree…” Another breath, and then an ascending scale. “Rise, ‘til your leaves fill the sky, until your sighs fill the air in the night!” Another breath, and I made my voice echo as much as it could. “Lift your mighty limbs, and give praise to the fire!”

Silence for a moment, and then, from the trees directly ahead of me, a sound like hands made of wood clapping. From the darkness of night appeared two round lights like radiant eyes. “Well done,” the same baritone from the song spoke up. “You are a bit out of practice, but I knew you still remembered the song.”

The singer stepped forth from the treeline. A tall, vaguely humanoid figure cloaked in shadow and wrapped in a cape of fallen leaves. They, too, were drenched in impenetrable darkness. Thin, curving branches grew from his head like a set of grand antlers. In one hand, he held the handle of a lantern made of dark, dull metal, which housed a light that was almost blinding when gazed into.

My heart fluttered out of both trepidation and admiration as he approached. I can’t say that I’ve ever felt completely safe around him, but that was one of the things I found so enticing about him. The Beast, a creature as mysterious, intimidating, and beautiful as the depth of a starless night. The very epitome of a literary devil figure, whose silver tongue he used to trick grieving and lonesome souls into doing his bidding. His bidding was horrid, sinister work, trapping the lost and the weary within Edelwood trees and using their oily sap and wood to fuel his ever-hungry soul--the burning light within his lantern. He had a passion for song, and his haunting operatic vibrato carried unnaturally far. He was a monster straight out of a dark fairytale, one whose voice and devilish charms I’d never been able to resist.

“Couldn’t resist being the first one here, huh?” I jested with a smile.

“For you, no distance could ever be too great,” the Beast replied smoothly. “Though I found it quite convenient that you decided to build your refuge within my forest.”

I glanced around at the trees for a moment, realization dawning upon me. “Right…,” I began. “Probably should have expected you to show up first. Deep, dark, wintery woods are pretty much your entire aesthetic.”

The Beast moved closer, looking up at the lodge itself. “Hm…,” he pondered. “I don’t intend to spend much time within it,” he said, glancing back down towards me from his position directly to the right. “But it is quite striking.” 

His presence had the uncanny ability to drop the temperature surrounding him by quite a few degrees. Enough that I still noticed while standing outside in the already-frigid winter night. Up close, his eyes were like the visible spectrum of light given off by a candle’s flame. They really were quite beautiful, in a haunting, mesmerizing sort of way.

“So you’ll stick around?” I asked hopefully. 

The Beast chuckled, though his eyes showed no hint of emotion. He reached for my head with his free hand--the one not holding his lantern--and affectionately petted my hair. “Of course,” he replied in a tone that sounded unusually friendly.

“And you’ll play nice with the others?” I added, raising an eyebrow. 

He bent down towards my level and moved his hand from my hair to my chin, tilting my head further upward. “My dear…I will not make a promise to you that I cannot keep.” He leaned in and pressed the lower part of his face--where a mouth would have been--to my forehead. When he pulled away, he left a small smudge of Edelwood oil there.

I smiled knowingly and let out a little sigh. “Fine,” I replied. “Just don’t turn any of them into trees.”

[hisui555]

Hazbin Hotel thoughts : Pets 3

"How would they be with a pet ?" (Heaven's cast)

(Pets 1 (Hazbin crew) here)

(Pets 2 (Vees + Overlords) here)

Masterpost here.

Boy does this thing need a masterpost. Will work on that once I'm finished with this stuff (and to keep the sass under control. Yeah right, as if I'll manage. Good, I already lost, that's one less problem to take care of. One day I'll build myself an automatic sarcastic clapping box like GlaDOS. Goal in life, woo, I'm such a useful and productive member of society, wow.)

(The thing won't last five minutes within my sister's range.)

A-hem. Heaven.

Emily might have a whole freaking zoo of pets. I mean, have you seen the girl ? She's ex-aequo with Charlie on the "nicest person alive" podium (the fact that none of them is human isn't that surpri - shhh, cynism, shut up. I just got rid of sarcasm, don't you dare start it), and every doe-eyed kitten she'll meet will be added to the growing jungle (she has seraphim powers, I'm sure she's putting that reality-warping trick to good use) she has between dimensions. She'll name them all, remember each one, take her sweet time with cuddles and nuzzles, and will feed them all personally. She also loves grooming them. If someone good-hearted wants one, she'll gladly and regularly put them up for adoption, overjoyed that said critter will live its best life. Hurt pets tend to especially tug at her heart, and if anyone dares to harm one out of pettiness, she might bust out her true form and give them one hell of a verbal lashout.

Every vet appointment she'll go personally, and is very empathetic to each and every little beastie she has - any life is worth love. Unlike Charlie, who in the Pets 1 post I described as quite the normal owner, Emily will overcoddle the bejeezus out of each and every one of them, but knows to back off when it gets too much. For funny points, while she loves soft and cuddly animals, that would include stuff like tarantulas, bears and skunks, which she would nuzzle all day if she could - to Sera's consternation. I think even Charlie will be surprised by that one. If one dies (from natural causes), she'll be distraught and grieving, but accepts that death is a part of life.

Sera might have a personal pet in private, something autonomous and independent, regal and poised like her, but still cherish it. She'll be a normal owner, knowing that an animal is still an animal, but she'll do her best to suppress some instincts that she deems unbecoming or harmful. She mostly lets it be, but isn't against it climbing on her lap or flying around, as long as it doesn't make a mess. Might be a fan of actual big cats, like Heaven's version of pantheras, or, à la Sarah Bernhardt, cheetahs (which are easily stressed animals, so Sera's calm environment would help). She might also be fond of a sanctuary of butterflies, and naturally, songbirds, that she'll keep in a delimited space that they should not wander out of - gilded cage applied to a whole garden, unsurprisingly. While she might have more than one pet at once, she'll also supervise that any animal found will find its forever family (something Emily helps a great deal with, naturally).

She'll be quite serious and rigorous on maintaining vet appointments and healthcare for her pet(s), and just like Vaggie be naturally good at managing her pet's life, work and diet. Animal cruelty is severly reprimanded, she will make her displeasure known, and better not catch the offender in the act of hurting a critter ever again. Might leave the grooming to Emily, but a good brush down from time to time helps ease her own nerves and take a break from work. She might also confide in the pet, in secret, what she can't tell others, like Emily, basically having it also partially as some form of support.

Adam, well, will use any pet that reinforce his virility, and fail miserably at it because lions don't bother to do much, bears are too tiring to tame, he gets on the nerves of tigers and while gorillas would be on the list, he doesn't want others to think "like owners, like pets" concerning the other thing gorillas are known for (which is, well, being rather small in the neither regions). When someone cracks that he should try a donkey (which has the inverse problem), he'll turn it down because he doesn't want to be associated with an ass (and the irony is completely lost on him). He might have one turtle just for the sake of a crass joke (also it's very low-maintenance, and it escaped long ago due to his neglect and inattention, leading a better turtle-life in the home of another angel who adopted it), but let's say that he might have a soft spot for bunnies, especially hares, because they're badass and, you guessed it, very good at multiplying, which reminds him of his own performance as the First Man. However, his naming skills are the opposite of stellar (that's the man who gave Vaggie her name, what did we expect ?), and he constantly forgets to keep the cages locked, so there are more bun-buns (not those, dammit) in his home than Lady Tottington's castle at the end of Curse of the Wererabbit (Wallace and Gromit movie, it's quite fun). At one point, they all fled anyway.

Then one time he stumbled upon a honey badger, and its crackhead determination (wink at you, Casual Geographics) pleased him, so he took it with him as a pet. Or, closer to the truth : the thing invited itself and takes care of itself because Adam can't be bothered to try, being too self-absorbed. He won't harm it, but neglect is sure on the list, and the only reason the thing hasn't died yet is because it is very hard to kill. So basically it's Adam, and his honey badger roommate.

(Seriously, one does not fuck with honey badgers. That thing does not care about death, and it's known to attack animals ten times its size and bloody win. The thing can put itself in a coma to not succumb to highly venomous snakes and ultra-aggressive hornets, then pop back up awake as if nothing or almost happened. So again, dear mother of god and all her wacky nephews, one does not fuck with honey badgers. You'll have a better chance trying to go to Mordor and facing Sauron with a toothpick and wearing only diapers.)

For Lute, well. Another one I highly doubt will ever have a pet but once more, let's close our eyes, willingly ignore reality, maybe help the process with a good drink and that sugar-that-is-not-sugar added on top, and imagine a world where, against all common sense, Lute has a pet. Yes. Lute, having a pet. Okay. We can do this (Dang it feels as wrong as putting a bikini on Alastor. At least to me, I don't have much hopes for the rest of the Internet, let's be real). So. She'll probably have something highly active, bloodthirsty, something like a hound or a very ill-tempered big cat, but honestly, I would peg a lioness for her, because contrary to Adam's failure with lions, she would actually impress the thing enough that it lets itself be tamed and willingly joins her. But anyway, any pet that ends up with her, she'll render extra-aggressive and it's more of a fighting partner and second-hand 'man' than a companion for friendship, though she will deeply care about it and find a kindred spirit - even let Adam believe it obeys him so that he isn't butthurt (boy does this guy need to compensate).

She might not care much about other pets and animals (especially not hellish ones), and expects hers to tough it out on many things, but if it is hurt or dies, expect her to fly into a murderous rage fueled by grief and sorrow, with heavy mourning after - because despite everything, it was a close reciprocated bond, and it's not just an animal that has fallen, but devoted a comrade-in-arms. (Fuck that went sad fast.)

And for the last, St-Peter. A nice, kind, not-too-hyper pet might be a good match for him, he'll probably like a nice little canary, or anything that isn't too high-maintenance, but I can also see him flail behind a multi-leash of 20 neurotic ferrets and accidentally getting peed on when he isn't paying attention. I think he'll prefer a nice and tranquil pet still, maybe even have a thing for bugs, frogs and snails (they don't move much, it's all good), or even reptiles (for the complete irony, lizards and snakes). He'll be the one to dish interesting Animal Facts (TM) to anyone asking, panics at the first sign of the pet being sick, and keep it nice and cosy for the whole time it needs to recover. Another thing he might do is being a foster home for birds, especially those without parents nearby, teach them the bird way of life like how to fly, and release them once they've grown up enough. He'll never forget them, with lots of photo albums to remember them by (okay, that also went sad fast, but in a good way).

Aaaand done ! Hope my five-years old snark level wasn't too obnoxious, and that you had a good time reading. I might have more Foils series ideas, so next time you need to kill time, you know where to find me.

Again, Masterpost here.

[knackerman]

What’s the connection between fog and the Candy Mare? I notice that it’s very frequently present when she makes an appearance. Is she creating the fog? I kind of got the vibe (at least from the original Something Sweet To Bite) that it was letting her know where victims were somehow, since Candy and/or the Candy Ghouls always seemed to show up after the fog did.

Sure, I can answer that.

The fog is a manifestation of the candy curse, both an indication of its presence and physical sign of it warping reality. While it can and does respond to the Candy Mare’s desires, it also spreads from her and other victims of the candy curse (like the ghouls) automatically and unconsciously. It does not physically come from their bodies but manifests in the air around candy flesh or other candified matter. The Candy Mare can sometimes dampen and halt the spread of the fog from around herself but the ghouls, and other candified flora and fauna, lack this control so it boils around them constantly. However, in daylight, when the ghouls lay dormant, the fog is usually burned off by the sun and will only thicken again when night falls or if the sky becomes overcast or stormy.

You are right that living creatures that wander into the fog are more easily detected by both the Candy Mare and the candy ghouls, but it has other effects as well. It muffles the voices of potential victims, so others will not as easily hear their screams of agony or calls for help. It can also warp the voice of those who are Candy cursed, making their laughter and moans of hunger sound far away when they are near and making their voices sound near when they are actually further away, confusing potential prey and driving them closer to what is stalking them. The fog also actively dampens or destroys sources of light that might otherwise deter or drive away candy ghouls, shorting out electricity and extinguishing candles, lanterns, and torches. Lastly it seems to have an effect on the perception of both time and space, making time seem to pass agonizingly slowly and lending a dream like slowness to attempts to traverse spaces that should otherwise be easily navigated - this is not a literal warping of space and time but rather just an alteration of the perceptions of living victims who inhale the fog, as the Candy Mare herself and her ghouls do not seem to experience these same altered perceptions.

Narratively the fog acts as an indicator that the Candy Mare or her victims are nearby, and that those who are enveloped by it are in imminent danger. The fog itself is magical in nature and perhaps semi-sentient, sometimes moving against the direction the wind is blowing or finding its way inside homes where natural fog usually would not. Sunlight and powerful magic can dispel it, but unlike the Candy Mare, fire doesn’t seem to negatively impact it - turning the flames it can’t extinguish blue or green. The fog also can mix with smoke, spreading into the sky to create storm clouds which aid in the spreading of the fog and the candy curse.

[insightful-scribbles]

How Aluminium Doors Make Your Commercial Space Functional & Stylish

We all agree that functionality and style go hand in hand when it comes to commercial spaces. You also would prefer doors that look sleek and modern apart from offering durability and security. That’s where aluminium doors come in! They’re the perfect blend of durability, aesthetics and performance; making them an ideal choice for offices, showrooms, retail stores, and more.

If you're looking for aluminium door manufacturers in Bangalore? Chaitanya Doors and Windows is a trusted name known for high-quality, durable, and stylish aluminium doors that enhance both residential and commercial spaces.

But what exactly makes them so special? Let’s dive in!

Sleek and Stylish Appeal

First impressions matter, right? You would want your entrance to scream professionalism and elegance - whether it’s a high-end boutique or a corporate office. Designer aluminium doors unfailingly offer a minimalist yet modern touch that instantly elevates any space. What’s impressive is that they come in various finishes - from glossy and matte to wood-textured and anodized coatings.

Aluminium doors unlike bulky wooden doors have a slim profile, allowing for variety of larger glass panels that bring in more natural light and sense of openness. And let’s be honest—who doesn’t love to own a bright and airy workspace?

Durability That Stands the Test of Time

Troubled about wear and tear? Well, you don’t have to be! Aluminium is naturally resistant to rust, corrosion, and extreme weather conditions. Your aluminium fancy door will hold up without warping, cracking, or fading, irrespective of whether it’s the scorching summer sun or relentless monsoon rains.

Moreover, aluminium doors require a bare minimal maintenance—just a quick wipe-down with a damp cloth, and they’re as good as new! Talk about a stress-free investment, and this would figure amongst topmost in list.

Energy Efficiency That Cuts Your Bills

You might wonder aluminium doors aren’t energy efficient, right? Think again! Modern aluminium door companies use advanced and well researched thermal break technology, which reduces heat transfer and helps maintain indoor temperatures. That surprisingly means lower energy bills—music to any business owner’s ears!

And let’s not forget sound insulation. If your office is in a loud noisy area, these doors help block out distractions, so you and your team can stay focused.

Strength and Security You Can Count On

Security is a top priority and a must necessity for any commercial space. Aluminium doors online come reinforced with multi-point locking systems, making unauthorized access difficult and impossible. Additionally, their sturdy structure provides extra protection against break-ins compared to traditional wooden or PVC doors.

For businesses with high foot traffic and lot of floor movement, aluminium doors offer remarkably excellent impact resistance—so no more worrying about dents, scratches, or chips!

Customization to Match Your Brand

Since no two businesses are the same, why should your doors be? With aluminium, the customization options are vivid and endless. There’s a design to match your specific needs irrespective of whether you need sliding doors, bi-fold doors, or even automatic sensor doors.

You can also choose from a variety of frame colors and glass options as well, including frosted, tinted, or laminated glass for added privacy. The flexibility aluminium offers means you can avail doors that truly reflect your brand identity.

An Eco-Friendly Choice

Want to make a sustainable and nature-responsive choice? Aluminium is 100% recyclable, which means even after decades of use, it can be repurposed and rebuilt, instead of ending up in a landfill. These days, many aluminium door manufacturers use recycled materials to reduce their environmental footprint. So you see, choosing aluminium isn’t just good for your business—it’s a win for the planet too!

Space-Saving Designs for Smart Workspaces

Are you aware that all commercial spaces don’t have the luxury of extra square footage? If you’re working with limited space, aluminium doors offer sliding and bi-fold designs that maximize space while maintaining accessibility.

Imagine a café with limited seating or a tight, compact co-working space—traditional swing doors might take up too much room. Aluminium sliding doors solve that problem effortlessly by addressing the issue, giving you more usable space, that also without compromising style.

Cost-Effective in the Long Run

You might be wondering, “Aren’t aluminium doors expensive?” Well, the initial cost may be slightly higher than wooden or PVC doors, but they pay for themselves over time. Why? Because of their durability, energy efficiency, and low maintenance.

Just think about it—no repainting, no frequent repairs, and no worries about warping or termites. And over time, the savings add up, making aluminium doors a smart financial decision for your business.

Weatherproof and Fire-Resistant

Aluminium doesn’t just withstand extreme temperatures—it’s also fire-resistant! In case of an adverse fire incident, aluminium doors won’t contribute to spreading flames, offering an added layer of safety.

Additionally, they’re moisture-resistant, meaning no swelling or rotting like wooden doors. If your business is in a humid location or near the coast, aluminium doors are a no-brainer.

Easy Availability and Quick Installation

And the best part? Finding high-quality aluminium doors is easier than ever! Many top aluminium door companies offer online ordering options as well, so you can browse different designs, compare prices, and get them delivered hassle-free.

Aluminium doors are lightweight and easy to handle when it comes to installation. Professional installers can get them up and running quickly, minimizing downtime for your business.

The Bottom Line

Aluminium doors aren’t just doors—they’re an investment in your commercial space’s functionality, security, and aesthetic appeal. There’s a perfect fit for every business from designer aluminium doors that impress clients to sliding aluminium doors that save space.

So, if you’re looking to upgrade, don’t settle for anything less. Explore your options and get ready to transform your space today!Need help choosing the right aluminium doors in bangalore? Drop your queries in the comments or reach out to the top aluminium door suppliers near you. Your perfect door is just a click away!

[othernaut]

Character Creation Challenge, Day 29: Fabula Ultima

(Again.)

The sun beats down on my shoulders as I ease my way through the underbrush. It's been rough. Spotting the Clocktower from a distance and navigating my way through the surrounding forest are two entirely different tasks. The Watchblade fused to my left hand thrums with barely-contained anticipation; as always, it wants to be used. It wants to cut through the brush and bracken, to complete the little lives it touches. I have been careful in its use, but this is the Shuddering Wild. Fallout from the Meteor is strong here. This has not been a journey without combat.

My boots ease over half-buried cobblestones. Around me, the hulks of murdered buildings sink into the soil, half-covered in vines and flowers. Here and there, I see curls of green brass and shattered ceramic embedded in the dirt. The Watchblade's pulse quickens; it knows it's going home.

And then, it changes: I clear a wall of drooping pine and find myself in another world. The forest doesn't so much clear around me as find itself pushed back, overlaid by a preserved, pristine slice of silent township. Shops and houses, clean and well-maintained, surround a brick-lined public square set with a still fountain. The warp of time surrounds me, honey-thick and nauseating in its unreality. I can see the townspeople frozen, worn down by the grip of entropy into faceless shadows of themselves, paused mid-step, mid-life. Silence is total. Even the wind dies here.

Across the square, above the trees, the Clocktower Perpetual ticks a single, frozen second back and forth. Back and forth, and the Watchblade keeps time.

I feel it wind another few centimeters of filigree up my arm. I feel it dig a measure further into my flesh. I feel the connection deepen, the wordless want double in intensity. I mirror that need. I, too, want to return home. I wish I had never found the sword, never touched it. As it makes more of me into itself, I find I have less and less control over my actions. The Watchblade is not my weapon. I belong to it.

I step across the square in perfect tempo with the pulsing sword. Nothing moves. Tingling up that forced connection is a sense of, yes, terrible danger - but it's okay. I belong here. The gears in the Clocktower door click and turn as I approach. The curled brass handles depress; it opens itself automatically. Inside, trapped-crystal lights illuminate a parlor concealed behind the cramped silhouettes of stacked books and arcane machinery. Not a mote of dust has drifted, not a page has slid out of place in the frozen second since this place was ensorcelled.

In the center, hovering above where the curling stairs meet the main floor, is a confused smear of a person. It moves - it vibrates - as if it was attempting a hundred different actions all at once, overlaid, and was frozen in the midst of each one. I can tell very little of the person within the silhouette. Long, black hair. A deep red robe, blooming into a thousand paused curls and ruffles. I know who this is. The Watchblade tells me. This is the Time Sorceress that created it. This is where we belong.

I raise my left hand, the bronze tip of the Watchblade almost touching one of the figure's outstretched limbs. The world around me seems to rattle. A tension, a pressure, makes the air almost unbreathable, my muscles almost too rigid to move. The Watchblade will move me, if I let it. It will place itself in her outstretched hand. It will complete itself.

I lunge forward, impaling the Sorceress with her own weapon. I pierce her. I kill her. I break her.

Time shatters around the point of impact, a halo of shards unmaking the world. Ruinous information sweeps in from the shadow behind space and fills my ears with a familiar chorus. Thousands, millions, infinite voices overlaid - all me. All me.

I become her.

I flow down the blade - the bridge - into myself. I fill my own body with meaning and memory. Patterns emerge; this has happened before. The Clocktower Perpetual ticks forward, and the Time Sorceress is destroyed. The Clocktower Perpetual ticks back, and she is remade, temporally reincarnated into a new, collapsing timeline where she is destined, always, to find and become herself again.

Time collapses. I remember all the selves I was before. At each death, another life. Each life, destined to end, begets itself anew. All the way back to the beginning, where I remember hiding myself forever in this Clocktower, shutting out the outside world, resolving to live my life of research and seclusion for as long as I cared to.

I remember the last time I died. The young man in front of me - oh, right, there he is. He came to ask me something. He didn't like my response. Things escalated. The two young women beside him, his companions, backed him up in the fight. He has a bare sword and a determined expression. He is asking me something, but it's so hard to hear over the thrum of my own newborn consciousness. One of the young women is lifting a glass orb. Fire swirls inside; she doesn't think I am done with the fight. She is trying to put it all together, but I still bear the Watchblade, unsheathed and ready.

I lift it. It is home now, a part of me. I dart forward with all the alacrity of a thousand new-remembered lives. I clash blades with the swordsman, dodge, strike, draw blood. The fight ends exactly the same as it did before. Supported by his friends, he cuts me down. I am thrown, bleeding, into the air above the site of my reincarnation. The Clocktower chokes on the moment, turns back.

(Again.)

I am being led through the town square by my mother. My face is low, my head hooded; she rushes me past the bustling shops, the sparkling fountain, as if she doesn't want anyone to see. In the few glimpses I have of the town square, I see that she doesn't need to worry. All the townsfolk are averting their eyes. They busy themselves in their own conversations; they know what it means for a young girl to be guided to the Clocktower Perpetual. I am the only one here, the only one in this town, who is not burdened by the shame of killing me.

The Timestorm swirls menacingly around the enveloping trees, descending perpetually into perfect night. The Clocktower ticks forward a second towards midnight, towards the town's ultimate destruction. I see the concern in my mother's eyes; she doesn't know if I'm ready, she doesn't know if she prepared me enough. The Secret Master of the Clocktower has very strict requirements for their sacrifices. I was never really a person to my mother, I can see that now. She is dispensing herself of a troublesome burden and her only worry is that she didn't complete it to her employer's satisfaction.

The gears in the Clocktower door click in their housing; the hundred locks begin to disengage, one after another. My mother stands at the threshold with me, her grip firm. She should say something. I should say something. There should be some ceremony, something to mark the fact that I lived here. I lived here! And now I'm going to die here, sacrificed to something I'll never understand, that no one understands, to give this timesick little town another twenty years of life. No one has come back from the Clocktower. We all know what it means. My mother holds me like a jailer would, afraid I'll run away, as the last moments of my life tick by with the second-by-second disengagement of a hundred magic locks.

At last, the doors swing open. The space inside is vast and dark. I can see the heavy bulk of a sweeping staircase carpeted in moldering crimson, nothing more. My mother walks me to the threshold and lets me go. She does not risk the smallest part of herself crossing that boundary. Her hand is hovering at the small of my back and her gaze is burning against my hood. I take the last step myself.

The world outside the Clocktower ceases to exist. The town, the forest, the apocalyptic Timestorm that has been our prison and our defining feature for as long as there has been history to record - all gone. Blackness outside the open door, dead silence. Bit by bit, the colors in this space define themselves. I can see the crimson curtains, the brass filigree inlays sparkling in the wood paneling and curving banister. It is lovely in here, dark, and quiet, and empty.

Something twists in the air above the staircase. The figure is indistinct and ghostly, less of a silhouette and more of a faded painting, an intimation of itself. It floats down toward me like a cloud of smoke on a nonexistent breeze. Scraps of vapor curl off into the silence around it. Two appendages extend from it, reaching to where I stand frozen in that frozen moment.

It reaches me. It touches me. It embraces me. It enters me. It becomes me. I become myself. All my history fills me like the sudden surge of a storm. Reality cracks, compresses, collapses around me. I remember.

I am standing in front of a trio of warriors. One, a young man with a sword, is breathing hard, bleeding from a long cut on his forehead. One of his companions, a woman in a grey veil bearing an overflowing cup, lays a hand on his shoulder. I watch the blood drawn back into his lessening wound and smile. He spits a sentence at me, a rueful question, and I do not deign to reply. I meet him in battle and, as it was before, I am cut down. The seconds slow, stop, tick backwards. I die forever, and then I am remade.

(Again.)

I am a young scholar in a tumbledown township, studying black magic under the harsh tutelage of a secret wizard. I have always been fascinated by the Clocktower at the edge of the town square. No one goes in there, no one knows how it keeps itself working after all these years. Tonight, I sneak away from my chores and creep along the silent, nighttime periphery of the square. The Clocktower door, sealed with the emblem of a screaming ghost, clicks and turns as I approach. It opens itself for me, welcoming me inside, and I go eagerly, ready to learn whatever it wants to teach me.

When I once again become myself, reincarnated in the body of the symbiote lifetime that I have created and destroyed, I watch the young man panting beneath the onslaught of a marathon battle. "How much longer are you going to keep this up?" he asks me. "How many times do I have to kill you?!" I lift my arms in a beatific gesture, beginning the dance of magic. He has no notion of infinity and I have no desire to teach him. When he kills me again, I am smiling. The pain is momentary, and what does that matter when you have forever?

(Again.)

I am a teenage refugee from a terrible war. After a night of frantic flight and sickening panic, I have found the ruins of an old township hidden deep within the forbidden woods. Though it is quiet here, and well-hidden, I have a bad feeling about the Clocktower in the town square. I tell my fellow refugees - children, all children, looking to me for hope - to take shelter in one of the buildings while I go to check it out. I lift my Engine Spear defiantly and ease the Clocktower doors open with its tip. The back of the doors are heavy with chains, but every one of them is unlocked. It's as if it was waiting for me.

And then I enter, and I am reborn, and I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am a young Arcanist and I have made a terrible mistake. The Icon of Renewal, my village's sole god and the ancient protector of our harvest, has bound itself to me as its Caller - and I angered it. Taking the form of the Blooming Phoenix, it fled into the woods. I followed as best I could, but it went to ground in an old Clocktower, and I have lost my ability to sense its emotions. I pad softly through the flung-open doors, calling out into the darkness in search of its warmth and light. I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am a foolhardy Icecaller eager to prove my bravery to my friends at the Academy Arcane. I have vowed to enter the spooky old Clocktower in the abandoned village. I stride in confidently, sure that my neonate power will defend me from whatever lurks inside. I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am a young Justiciar with a missing eye and a hexenrifle, bound to the Ever-King. I am chasing a dissident who fled into an old Clocktower in the woods. I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am a teenage girl with a power I cannot name and a destiny I cannot perceive. I go into the old Clocktower and it welcomes me inside. I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am alive. I lived a life. I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again.)

I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again!)

I am reborn, I die, and it all goes back to the beginning.

(Again...)

I am so tired.

When I once again come into myself, the young swordsman is down on one knee, breathing hard. One of his companions, the young woman with the fire in the glass, is face-down on the floor, being tended to by the other. Reincarnated, I flex my new body, feeling the youth and strength in the limbs, but it all seems so distant now, so unfamiliar. It's me, it has always been me, but I feel outside of myself in a way I never have before. How many times have I lived, just to die here? How much longer will this have to go on? How many more centuries do I have to endure just to find my way back to a solitude I can barely remember?

I look down at the boy as he struggles to his feet. At this point, he'd be about the same age as this body, but I have lived hundreds of years in this battle alone. I feel the magic at my fingertips, same as I remember, ready and eager to be used. I hesitate. I am ready to do something I've not tried before.

"Just... why are you here?" I ask. The blade is shaky in his hand, but he holds himself with a surety that I've never before taken the time to notice. There is a defiance to him, something endemic to the youth that I am only pretending to embody. He will fight until he dies. And how nice that must be, to die only once.

It's his companion who answers, the veiled woman leaning over her fallen companion. Her voice is clear, pained, unburdened by betrayal. "We just wanted to talk to you!" she cries. "We just wanted you to listen!" I remember that. Objectively, only a few moments had passed, but subjectively, it is buried in hundreds of years of death and rebirth. They came here asking for a favor and, for the life of me, I can't remember what it was. I can't remember why I refused. I can't remember why I started this fight.

If I press it, I know, I will wear them down. In my Clocktower Perpetual, I am a true immortal. Time, here, will always be my weapon and my savior. But how many more years do I want to waste on this? How many more indistinguishable childhoods do I have to endure just to prove a point? I'm not hurt, I'm not spent, I'm not even angry anymore. I'm just bored.

I sigh, and lower my hands. I let the spell die unfinished on my lips. I'm eager to do something, anything else. "Fine," I say, "You've made your point. What was it you wanted, and why do you think it's so important that you have to keep killing me?"

I see their eyes flicker, one to the other. The tip of the swordsman's blade descends a few centimeters; he is still on guard, but willing to acknowledge the reality of the situation. There is a little nod from his companion, a small shift of her blood-spattered veil.

With a naked blade between us, they explain how the world outside my Clocktower has changed.

***** Iadora ori Sollipsi Identity: Incarnation of the Time Sorceress Theme: Discovery Origin: The Clocktower Perpetual Bonds: The First Version of Me (Mistrust) Classes: Entropist 4, Arcanist 1

Stats: Might: d6, Dexterity: d6, Insight: d10, Willpower: d10 HP: 35, Crisis: 17 MP: 65 Inventory: 6/6 Fabula Points: 3 Defense: d6+3 Magic Defense: d10+2 Initiative: -2

Class Stuff: Ritualism, Bind and Summon (takes the forms of alternate versions of herself; Wheel), Entropic Magic SL 4 (Acceleration, Dispel, Stop, Umbra)

Equipment: 120 z Copper-quartz dagger (DEX + INS, HR+4 physical), Sage robe (Def DEX+1, MDef INS+1, -2 Init), Stopwatch shield (+2 DEF)

*****

Fabula Ultima, the JRPG TTRPG, has been one of those bounce-offs I'd really been intending to give another look to for a while, and this particular challenge provided a great opportunity to do so. Like most of the RPGs I'd liked the look of but couldn't connect with on first reading, half of this was an excuse to write weird fiction (sorry) and the other was an attempt to figure out exactly why it didn't click.

Yeah, it's formatting.

Fabula Ultima, as a game, is pretty dang solid. It's got one of those dice-step systems that I find myself appreciating, one where a stat is a certain type of die, and the way the math works out feels both satisfying and true to the material the game is basing itself off of. Going through it feels like building a kind of shared RPGMaker world, sliding back into those idle teenage fantasies when I'd get kicked off of the SNES for the night and had to lay in bed, just imagining what I'd create if I, too, got to Chrono a Trigger. The language is familiar, the shared tropes are strong enough that anyone who buys in to the game knows exactly what they want to lean on, and the whole thing looks to come together into a cohesive whole.

The problem is entirely in how the book is laid out. Fabula Ultima comes with a step-by-step guide for how to parse the book and build your world, and while it starts by leading with the hook of creating your own shared JRPG, it then bucks the traditional TTRPG wisdom of moving into character creation to, instead, drive directly into the full ruleset. In that step-by-step guide, it puts the rules ahead of the characters, which is a... choice I can see working in some circumstances, but doesn't do it here. There's a flow to laying out a TTRPG rulebook, a successive series of sells that Fabula Ultima flubs by moving in the wrong direction too early. You don't start selling the math before you sell the dream, or if you do, the math itself has to be part of the dream.

I liked Fabula Ultima, I liked the individual elements of its design, and I can see how it fits together into a satisfying and nostalgic whole. I wrote some good, long fiction for it (sorry again) and it hit that weird bonus of getting me invested in creating its world. It's going into the Maybe One Day pile; I'm willing to be the enthusiastic friend who brings it to the group. But I do have to note where I bounced off. This is part of the exercise.

Next up: Impossibility, wet and red and true.

[yeeforkinhaw]

UPDATED Muse Info + Abilities

TW: Mention of Torture

I updated my muse's backstory a little. I plan to make the doctor who modified most of Boothill's body from organic to mechanical an outlander from curse-infested Japan as well, precisely from the Jujutsu Society! I decided to make her a Galaxy Ranger too! She'd imbue Boothill's body and weapon with cursed energy, as since he joined the Galaxy Rangers, his travels might lead him to that distant nation, and the abominations there would not be exorcised without cursed energy, or at least cursed tools. This would not take effect, however, until Boothill sets foot in that particular world!

Boothill's abilities!

This is under construction! I took this information from analysis videos, and Boothill's wiki on vsbattles.fandom.com!

Boothill is a single-target DPS. Perfect for 1v1s! He's able to force his target into a stand-off state, that is, a duel with him alone. He's able to taunt his enemy to hit only him, and cause both himself and them to take increased damage (up to 30%/15%) from each other. This lasts for two turns. During those two turns, his basic attack is enhanced, he's able to ignore the target's defense system, and he's also able to reduce their toughness. As for Boothill's ultimate, he can implant a physical weakness on his enemy, and delay them so he could have an extra turn.

Superhuman Physical Characteristics: His levels of strength (lifting & striking), speed and stamina (durability) significantly exceed those of a regular person.

Extrasensory Perception (Enhanced Sight) & Enhanced Senses

Neutral Vision & Soul Vision; Can see souls (I'm taking advantage of this; my Boothill can see cursed spirits!)

Can interact with a Stellaron which is composed of pure energy. Can interact with Heliobi - beings composed entirely of pure energy. (I'm taking advantage of this; my Boothill can interact with shikigami & cursed spirits!)

Master Marksman

Supernatural Willpower (Boothill was able to endure the process of having his body cyborgized, a procedure that would be fatal for most people. He also withstood torture from the IPC, such as being whipped with a belt soaked in saltwater)

Acrobatics (Hypermobility; Despite his body being cyborgized, Boothill is still incredibly acrobatic, capable of performing jumps, flips, and spins that would injure a normal person, all while dodging bullets and even evading homing missiles)

Flight & Space Survival (Galaxy Rangers can fly through space)

Automatic Translation (Boothill has a Synesthesia Beacon implanted in him, allowing him to understand nearly a hundred million languages)

Striking Strength: Galaxy level (Despite primarily using his guns, Boothill also employs physical attacks)

Range: Extended Melee Range physically, Hundreds of Meters with Guns

Standard Equipment: Two guns he can summon.

Intelligence: Gifted (At a young age, Boothill mastered all aspects of hunting and became highly skilled in gunslinging, able to rapidly shoot without missing his targets. He can curve his bullets and even ricochet them off one another. Comparable to another Ranger who can accurately manipulate his target to a predetermined location, hitting them precisely in the head with a bullet he fired 10 years earlier)

Resistance to Antimatter Manipulation (Can resist the effects from Reavers whose bodies are completely made out of antimatter)

Resistance to Biological Manipulation, Corrosion Inducement, Space-Time Manipulation & Reality Warping (Can withstand several effects caused by the Fragmentum. Boothill's body is impervious to physical deterioration)

Resistance to Status Effect Inducement (Which in-game is represented as Burning, Freezing, Electric Shock, Sharp Winds, Quantum Entanglement & Imaginary Imprisonment)

Resistance to Soul Manipulation, Mind Manipulation & Information Manipulation

Resistance to Corruption (All Types; Boothill's willpower is so strong that he can resist all forms of corruption)

What are Boothill's weaknesses? Well they haven't been mentioned explicitly in canon, which makes him a broken character in terms of gameplay experience. Therefore, to avoid writing him as a Gary Stu, I need to brainstorm his potential weaknesses! One notable weakness is that he's only single-target, not AoE.

Cursed techniques? Domains? Barriers? Boothill has no idea what all of that is... for now, at least. As for his grade as a potential sorcerer, let's wait and see!

[centralcoastkitchens]

2025 Bathroom Renovation Mistakes to Avoid

Renovating your bathroom is an exciting project that promises to breathe new life into one of the most essential spaces in your home. Whether you're looking to enhance the style, improve functionality, or increase the value of your property, a well-planned bathroom renovation can significantly elevate your daily experience. However, as with any major home improvement, the process can be fraught with challenges, especially in 2025, when evolving design trends, rising material costs, and the need for advanced technology make it more complicated than ever. Bathroom renovations Central Coast require careful attention to detail, from budgeting and choosing the right materials to planning for future needs and ensuring the space is functional. With so many decisions to make, it's easy to make costly mistakes that can turn your dream bathroom into a source of frustration. Whether you're updating an outdated design, creating a spa-like retreat, or reconfiguring the layout to make the most of limited space, understanding common renovation pitfalls will help you avoid unnecessary setbacks and expenses. 1. Ignoring the Budget

One of the most frequent mistakes homeowners make when renovating a bathroom is failing to set and stick to a realistic budget. Bathroom renovations often come with unexpected costs, whether due to hidden issues like plumbing or structural damage, or the need for higher-quality materials than initially planned.

Tip: Before you start, create a detailed budget that includes a buffer for unforeseen expenses—typically 10–15% of the total cost. Factor in not just the costs of materials and labour but also permits, disposal fees, and professional design consultations if necessary. Make sure to get multiple quotes from contractors to avoid overpaying.

2. Skipping Professional Input

Although DIY projects can be rewarding, bathroom renovations are one area where professional expertise is crucial. Plumbing, electrical, and structural work often require specialised knowledge to ensure that everything is safe and up to code. Poorly executed installations can result in leaks, electrical hazards, or costly repairs down the line.

Tip: Always hire licenced professionals for plumbing and electrical work, even if it means adjusting your budget. A certified contractor can help you make the most of your space and ensure that the renovation meets local building codes and safety standards. 3. Overlooking Ventilation

Many bathroom renovators focus on aesthetics and forget to account for proper ventilation. Inadequate airflow can cause moisture buildup, which, over time, leads to mould, mildew, and damage to your walls and ceilings.

Tip: Ensure your bathroom has a high-quality exhaust fan that is appropriately sized for the space. A fan with humidity-sensing capabilities is a good investment, as it will turn on automatically when moisture levels rise. Additionally, consider placing windows or utilising skylights to encourage natural ventilation.

4. Choosing the Wrong Materials

Bathrooms are high-moisture environments, and choosing the wrong materials can lead to deterioration and constant maintenance issues. For example, untreated wood can warp, porous tiles can absorb water, and non-waterproof paints can peel or bubble.

Tip: When selecting materials, opt for water-resistant, durable products like porcelain tiles, fiberglass bathtubs, and moisture-resistant paints. Modern materials like quartz countertops and luxury vinyl flooring are also excellent choices for bathrooms due to their durability and easy maintenance.

5. Poor Space Planning

Space planning is vital, particularly in smaller bathrooms where every inch matters. Many homeowners make the mistake of choosing large, bulky fixtures that overcrowd the space. This leads to a cramped and uncomfortable environment.

Tip: Focus on maximising every available inch of space. Consider wall-mounted vanities to create more floor space, and opt for corner sinks and smaller bathtubs. Custom storage solutions, such as built-in shelving or recessed niches in the shower, can also help you make the most of limited space.

6. Ignoring Lighting Design

Lighting is one of the most essential yet often overlooked aspects of a bathroom renovation. Proper lighting is needed for both function and ambiance. Without it, even the most beautiful bathroom can feel inadequate or impractical.

Tip: Aim for layered lighting that includes ambient, task, and accent lighting. Install overhead lighting for overall illumination, task lighting around the mirror for grooming and makeup, and accent lighting to highlight architectural features like tiled walls or art pieces. LED lights are energy-efficient and offer a range of colour temperatures to set the right mood.

7. Overloading Trends

It’s tempting to dive into the latest bathroom design trends, especially with 2025’s array of stylish innovations. However, overloading your bathroom with trends can make it feel dated in a few years. A bathroom should be both functional and timeless, so be cautious with bold design choices.

Tip: While it’s great to incorporate trendy elements, such as matte finishes or bold colours, balance them with classic designs. Choose neutral tones for large features like tiles and fixtures, and introduce trendy accents in smaller, easy-to-update elements like towels, rugs, or art.

8. Disregarding Functionality

While aesthetics are important, your bathroom must first and foremost serve your practical needs. A bathroom layout that looks great on paper might not work well in real life. Ensure that your design allows for smooth daily routines, whether it’s having enough counter space for toiletries or easy access to the shower and bathtub.

Tip: Prioritise functionality by designing spaces with sufficient storage, a well-planned layout, and features that enhance comfort and ease of use. For example, consider installing a double vanity if two people use the bathroom regularly or opt for a shower with a built-in seat for added comfort.

9. Underestimating Storage Needs

Bathroom storage is essential, but it’s often overlooked during renovations. A lack of storage can lead to clutter, which in turn can make the space feel smaller and less inviting.

Tip: Invest in clever storage solutions, such as built-in cabinets, floating shelves, or recessed niches. If space allows, consider installing a linen closet or adding cabinetry above the toilet to store towels and toiletries. Don't forget about vertical space—adding higher shelves can provide extra storage without compromising floor space.

10. Neglecting to Waterproof Properly

Waterproofing is one of the most crucial elements of a bathroom renovation. Improper waterproofing can lead to water damage, mold growth, and costly repairs. It’s essential to seal areas like shower stalls, tubs, and floors properly.

Tip: Work with professionals to ensure that your bathroom is adequately waterproofed, especially in areas exposed to water regularly. Use high-quality waterproof membranes in wet areas, and ensure proper sealing around bathtubs, showers, and sinks. Pay special attention to seams and joints to avoid future leaks.

11. Not Planning for Future Needs

When renovating, it’s easy to focus on your current needs, but don’t forget about how the space might need to evolve in the future. Whether you’re planning for a growing family, aging in place, or simply anticipating changes in your lifestyle, designing your bathroom with flexibility can save you from costly upgrades down the line.

Tip: Consider installing features that will make your bathroom more accessible as you age, such as grab bars, a walk-in shower, or lower countertops. If you have a young family, plan for durable materials and easy-to-clean surfaces that will stand up to wear and tear.

12. Forgetting Small Details

The little details are what elevate a bathroom from functional to fabulous. Many renovators get so focused on large, structural elements that they overlook smaller aspects like towel racks, storage hooks, and mirror placement.

Tip: Pay attention to the smaller touches that make a big impact. Ensure that towel racks are easily accessible, place mirrors at appropriate heights, and choose fixtures that complement the overall design. Additionally, consider including smart bathroom features like touchless faucets or smart mirrors to enhance both convenience and luxury.A bathroom renovation is an exciting project, but it’s essential to avoid these common mistakes to ensure a successful outcome. From budgeting and planning to choosing the right materials and paying attention to small details, every step plays a significant role in creating a bathroom that is both functional and beautiful. By avoiding these pitfalls and working with experienced professionals, you can achieve the bathroom of your dreams—one that serves you for years to come.

[actionfigurebullshit]

Cadet Worf Found Elsewhere; Greta and Herman Still At Large

When did I see that action figure last? The last time a picture of Greta was on this website was almost three years ago. One year ago, I was considering some AFB elements to be used in another video, and this may very well have been the last time that action figure was in my sights, but still...

If nothing else fails, there is a second Cadet Howard action figure. I got it with... I believe... my Galoob Data. It looks a little dingy, though I'd just say she had a tan from sticking her head in the warp core (in-joke). I also have a second Generations Data, though I would prefer to keep that action figure as is, since he was part of a lot consisting of all the 4.5 inch Generations action figures. I think if I had to go that far to replace Herman, Herman wouldn't be a Data action figure.

I don't remember actually doing anything with the Greta action figure last year. I was just going to reuse some of her dialogue, though she is presumed to be there, in those scenes but sight unseen.

Every so often, I'll go on these hunts for something that's missing and it can be distressing and harmful to the tidiness of the house, but might also make for good exercise, I dunno. It can also be an odd trip through time, as sometimes, you dig into boxes that are very era specific. I wrote about that a little in the last few entries.

Did I ever tell the tale of-- not really a story, actually. I have good luck with online orders, and this was one of the quite rare moments where something just didn't show up. One of those somethings- and I can only remember four times in almost twenty years where something simply didn't show up- was the first Greta action figure I ordered. The updates suggested it was picked up at the post office, or was it that the label was created? I wonder if I still have the e-mail?

1 sec...

I do. I was looking for the tracking number. I have it! No, I'm actually- I mean, I do, but I wrote that it was picked up. Nope. The label was made, and then nothing happened. After 3 weeks, I contacted them, and they were quick to concede the notion that it had been stolen, and gave me a refund. I think they misplaced the action figure or just forgot to actually mail it off. I didn't see them relist it, and, like I said, I got a quick refund, which was used to go get another action figure. This is why some of the earliest images of the idea of this group of cadet action figures being something non-Star Trek omits Greta- she wasn't there. It reminds me of those early TNG promotional photo shoots and Worf is nowhere to be found. They were still unsure if they wanted a Klingon in the main cast. In another world, was Worf just a one-off? The captain had to get on him quite a bit in that episode, "Do you intend to blast a hole in the viewer?", made him look like a dipshit. Maybe he would have been an O'Brien like character, I doubt they would want that Klingon forehead stuff to go to waste.

It's not a big deal, BUT every action figure is unique- they're always painted just a little bit differently, different choices made. Some Datas have brown eye brows, some seem to be black, and some are silver. Sometimes, your Kirks are squinty, other times they look fat-headed. Their eyes are doing something different, which goes a long ways toward giving an action figure automatic personality. I have two 80s TNG Datas. One looks pretty mellow, if not spaced out. He got the season 2 pelt. The other looks like a Lore action figure, oddly enough, just looks mean and evil.

While I don't think there's anything exceptionally remarkable about the action figure used for Greta, under slightly different circumstances, "Greta" would have a little bit different personality in the face, and one could very well have had some unseen influence on Rachael's performance. I do recall letting the actors play around with the action figures they were voicing just to see if it inspired something.

I'm running out of places to look for those two action figures. I'd love if if they were somewhere so close to me right now, they could bite me. I'm kind of hoping I'm just a dumbass and they're in a really obvious spot.

[pacexlikexaxghost]

❝Lucky, and some were very smart to make up for the failures of those who weren't. It doesn't do well to forget the hard work that went into it, especially as seldom few of those gems are still around, most having met the displeasure of their diamonds one way or another over the millennia.❞

It was something she was struck by when reading all of that documentation. They were, even then, the words of long dead gems that she was reading. Gems don't... die of natural causes often. They don't age, they don't starve, or dehydrate, or fall ill...

There are only two ways it really happens. Long term light isolation, and catastrophic code failure, and both are extraordinarily rare because of the countless fail safes in every gem to prevent them.

Low energy modes and the ability to go entirely dormant automatically past a certain low magic threshold to come back when exposed to magic again. It takes thousands of years dormant to have enough magic leak to cause a gem to die that way.

And catastrophic code failure? Even rarer, especially with Homeworld's tendency to cull even the most minor of defects if they're caught.

Every defective gem who has been allowed to live is... aware of it. The concern that whatever errors there may be in their code might lead to an eventual complete breakdown of function. But it's not common, by any means. Pearl looked, and only found one actual case of it ever, which did a great deal to ease that anxiety from her mind. Base codes are written with many catches and fail safes specifically to avoid that; even if part of the code ceased working, the rest of the gem can compensate.

Both ways a gem can die naturally are exceedingly rare, and yet starkly few gems that old are still around. It just goes to show how... no one can please the Diamonds forever.

And even one of them is gone now, in some sense.

❝Caring about organic life is a threat to their power. I had been led to believe organic life couldn't even be sentient before I came to Earth, and saw that it wasn't true. If gems as a whole knew, if they cared? The Diamonds would never be able to create a functioning colony again.❞

She lets him consider it in silence for a moment, already feeling better, but she still quickly jumps on it as he asks further, beaming, genuinely.

❝Oh this is something I love. Homeworld, for all it's flaws, is beautiful. And uniquely so! There aren't... cities on Homeworld, in the way they are here on Earth. No clustered population centers, but instead the entire planet is covered in structures, all densely interconnected and hundreds of levels tall, spanning even over the oceans. It makes the entire planet appear to be one large, incredible shimmering crystal.❞ She laughs breathlessly. ❝What it took to get there was atrocious, but it is stunning. What I would give to see it one more time...❞

She trails off for a moment, staring up at the sky. Lapis got off planet. She'll get to see Homeworld.

Pearl can only hope that she doesn't send Homeworld back their way. Stars, they need to double check that the Galaxy Warp is all offline. They chipped every pad ages ago, but it's important to make absolutely certain that none of them work.

❝It's beautiful on the ground, too. Every surface crystalline, and lit from within, in whites, yellows, blues and pinks, depending on what court controlled that part of the planet. And shared spaces are in all four colors.❞ Her gaze is still fixed on the sky. ❝I miss Homeworld at night. There were towers stretching even higher, with the lights turned down low so all the stars could be seen. And the shining civilization below and the endless stars above... seldom little compares to that.❞

She looks back at Valor. The only thing that has come even close is looking out on the dark sea on a clear night here. There's no significant light pollution in Beach City, and the way the stars reflect on the water is breathtaking.

❝It's so strange, to miss such an awful place. To know I would hate to ever return in reality, but still... not all of it was bad. It was home, once upon a time...❞

Titan, that was a lot. It was fascinating, in a morbid sort of way, but it was a lot. "They must have been very lucky." And her words about them having the ability to turn the gravity generator back on answered his follow up question about if the pieces ever got out of alignment.

Valor made a face when she said even just having a public record of any organic creatures would be granting them dignity and respect, and he replied, "Titan they really care nothing at all for us, huh." Not even just to note what was already there!

He sat processing the explanations for a while, before realizing, "Oh, I meant to also ask. You said the oceans can't much be seen? What do you mean by that?"