#we are getting so much shit restored into the game

[onewingedangels]

can't play any other game anymore. I just want traod remastered all day every day

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[wonijin]

DOWNFALL

you just wanted more budget for the soccer team. unbeknownst to you, karina wanted more. and before you know it, you were both knee-deep in a dangerous game of sweet lies and bitter emotions.

TAGS: enemies to less than enemies lovers. 3.2k words. thick juicy sexual tension. slight smut at the end.

WARNINGS: manipulation and sexual themes

the sea of students part as karina walks through. you follow her long graceful strides with your fast march.

“come on, karina. aren’t you supposed to be the president here?” you complained lowly in karina’s ear. people are already whispering because of the unusual sight of you and the student body president, you didn't dare attract more by arguing with her publicly.

“i am. that’s why you’ll regard me as president yoo.” karina replied without sparing a glance at you, her cold eyes trained forward.

“well then, president yoo. the soccer club needs more funds. as the captain, i’d like you to raise our budget just a teensy weensy more.”

this exact line has left your lips too many times these past few days. but who could blame you, the girl beside you refused over and over, leaving you no choice but to insist.

“how many times have i told you? we can't. the budget has already been decided so you’ll have to do with what you have.” you both reached an empty classroom and you closed the door behind you immediately.

“fuck that. we missed championship last time because of your shit budgeting. you think i’d stand for the same shit twice.” your hands flew up in the air in frustration, inhaling a deep breath. karina points her icy glares toward you, freezing you in place.

“if you think you can just get whatever you want, then you’re dead wrong. i’m not like my predecessors who bends to every single one of your whims.”

your brows furrow at her words. before you could reply, she had already opened her mouth.

“so i suggest you either give up or you find another way to get to championships.” with that, karina slams the door shut, leaving you fuming and glaring at her back.

karina knows you. she’d seen firsthand your effect on people. she’d watched you break peoples heart. she’d witnessed your charm work to the previous presidents. only to be reduced to tears when they realize they are but a means to an end.

in her eyes, you tarnished the student council’s reputation. they were branded as your puppets. one word from you, and the most respected students karina knew heeded. all because they found you endearing. oh, how it broke the ever so hard working girl.

but karina won’t turn out like them. she refused to be. in fact, she’s on a mission to get revenge. for her friends and for the council. a mission to restore the student council to its former glory and to destroy you.

this is either the stupidest idea you ever cooked or the cleverest.

the school parking lot was flocked with students despite the scorching weather. while cars of all shapes, color and sizes lodged aimlessly.

“everybody! thank you for coming today!” you shouted at the top of your car, holding a megaphone in one hand. “welcome to the soccer team’s sexy summer car wash! where we wash your car in ways both you and the car will enjoy!” cheers erupted through the crowd. you peer among the people gathered and you think just how much you’ve earned from the participation fee alone.

“let’s get this party started, shall we?” you put down the megaphone beside you. the crowd goes wild as you remove your shirt. your team members followed after. and the parking lot is in chaos.

the party is in full swing with more and more people appearing by the hour.

“i didn’t think washing cars would be this fun.” winter giggled beside you as you fill up buckets of water. it was safe to say winter liked the attention. after all, many are already lining up to take her home tonight.

“of course, when have i ever had a bad idea?” you grinned.

“every idea of yours is bad,” winter’s nose scrunch, remembering all those times you got the team in trouble. “speaking of, are you sure karina won’t just pop up suddenly? i mean look at how many people there is, she’s gonna find out.”

“then, let her. we’re students and this is our school.” you shrugged but both you and winter know it isn’t as simple as that. at least not when it comes to yoo jimin.

“she already thinks you’re the devil who have sex with everyone in exchange for favors. this would only make shit worse between the both of you.” winter’s words rang true to ears. unfortunately, you chose to be deaf to reason, too consumed by your hatred for the president to heed her advice.

“she can do whatever she wants and i could care less, winter.” if karina wants to paint you as the villain, so be it. those girls, her friends and the past council members, they slept with you willingly. they tried to give you what you want in hopes of winning your heart. but they didn't and so they wept.

“and would you really stop all this just because theres a chance little miss president will come?” at that, both you and winter come back to the heart of the mob.

the team didn’t really have to try to be suggestive or anything. walking around shirtless and flexing your muscles every now and then is enough for this sexy car wash to be sexy. after all, who wouldn’t be satisfied with sweaty six pack abs.

you were washing the hood of someones volvo while the owner was flirting with you.

suddenly you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd. you craned your neck to see the sea of people part.

a koenigsegg jesko pierced the population of teenagers. its engines roar over the hush whispers and its ivory skin reflecting the awe-struck faces of the students.

the luxurious car stopped behind you. everybody fell silent and you stood up, each one eager to know who is the driver.

the door opened and everybody broke out in gasps and distinct whispers. you looked at her with wide eyes as you stood frozen in place.

karina sauntered over to you. confidently and slowly, like she owned all the time in the world. strangely, there was no hint of anger in her gorgeous face. but her eyes held something you couldn’t fathom.

imaginary electricity prickle your skin. the air around you gets more charge every step she takes. you try to school your expression once more.

karina stopped in front of you.

“karina-” you started. but her gaze kept your mouth from saying anything further. she raises her hand and a slender finger met your lips delicately. “shush.”

you quietly observe as she face the car you were washing. she inspects it silently. she traced the hood with her fingers without a word. bubbles gathered at the tip of her fingers. she lifts her hand once more and in a blink of an eye she flicked it over to you. the bubbles landing on your cheek.

“what the fuck?” before your hand can wipe your cheek, her hand stopped yours. the other landed on your cheek gently. you feel your throat get clogged up as your wide eyes meet her brown ones.

you inhaled sharply, shakily as she moved her thumb to remove the white foam. her face closer to yours than before, giving you the chance to admire her features. it was nothing short of perfection.

although you were more than certain the foam had long since left you face, her soft hands stayed perched on your face.

“what are you playing here, karina?” you growled lowly. karina smirks at your frustration. how entertaining to see you crumble.

she leaned impossibly closer. expensive perfume invaded your senses. your eyes closed for a second as you gulped. “you forget. this is my parking lot you’re standing on.”

“we’re students here, we’re allowed to use this space.” as if coming back to your senses, your back straightened as your hand flew to her waist. her smile faltered for a blink of an eye but you caught it. and your lips widened at the sight.

“my, why are you so defensive?” she giggled beside your hear. melodious as it sent your bare spine shivering. if that wasn’t enough, she brought her other hand to your abdomen. “i’m not here to stop your fun. i just dropped by to say hi to my favorite student.”

her body pressed against yours. so close, you can feel her ample chest. should your hands go any lower, it would meet her ass.

“what are you playing here, karina?” you ask one more time.

“i’m playing your game. so try not to lose,” each word left her mouth with diction and it registered onto your brain slowly. just as you were about to make a comeback, her lips planted a kiss onto your ear. you feel your body go red, your mind on haywire.

and when her spell has left your system, she was already in her car revving her engine.

the student body president had declared war. and so far, she’s winning.

“watch me get the highest bid. everybody wants a piece of this, no doubt.” giselle twirled, showing off her curves.

“i doubt anyone would even bid at you. they’ll be too busy putting their money on this.” kazuha replied, flexing her muscles.

everybody lined up back stage for the team’s charity dating. in truth, you’ve raised more than enough money for the team. however, you wouldn’t let the threat by the name of yoo jimin pass so easily. and everybody knows when you cross y/n l/n, you cross the whole soccer team.

so you made the perfect stage of revenge for your humiliation. that little scene from the car wash spread like wildfire, everyone who had a mouth were talking about it. good and bad.

“thanks. i owe you and the team.” you pat winter who is fixing her makeup in front of you. you were the last ones in the line.

“what do you mean? this would’ve happened sooner or later, with or without intervention from miss president.” winter laughed. she put down her mirror and turned her body towards you.

“it’s already too late to talk you down whatever insane plan you come up with. so i wish you luck instead” she smiled at you. winter already knew it will work, there wasn’t a time it didn’t. *captain never fails*, that’s the line the team holds onto.

then you heard her name get called on stage. not soon later, loud chants filled your ears.

and you were left with your own thoughts.

you knew karina was somewhere among the crowd. she’d bid for you until she wins. the night starts with the two of you. and that’s where your game begins. your favorite game, the chasing game.

you’ve never lost at this game. and you have no plans to.

“please welcome! consecutive season MVP for three years and of course captain of the soccer team, y/n l/n” the crowd roared your name. it echoes throughout the whole venue. adrenaline pumps throughout your body.

you smile and the crowd goes wild. “okay. we’re starting off 70K WON.” not a bad start, your pride tells you.

“120K WON.” could be better. your eyes scan the crowd. a woman like karina wouldn’t be hard to miss. no matter how many people are here.

“500K WON.” a gentle voice spoke up. everybody turned turned their heads towards the source. a woman holding the number “7” with a gloved hand.

there she is. sitting elegantly, dressed in white that shows of her milky shoulders. her hair down, her eyes piercing and her lips painted red. she looked ethereal just by sitting in a chair.

the crowd murmured as they watch karina throw the highest bid of the night. you were sure another wildfire had just been brought to life.

“going, sold! a date with miss l/n for 500K WON” the announcer clapped and the audience followed.

“well, folks. this officially ends the soccer team’s charity dating. thank you for coming. for those who won a date, enjoy. for those who didn’t, there are other ways and many more chances.”

you walk down the stage to where karina is standing. she patiently waits for you to reach her, eyes never leaving your figure.

“you must like crashing our parties.” you greet. you both know there’s no need to be hostile, for now at least.

“of course. like i would pass up the chance to see your miserable face.” she links your arms together. you hummed in response. “let me buy you a drink then. for bidding 500K WON for this miserable face.”

you let her guide you to the bar where she orders an expensive drink. figuring you wouldn’t be able to go through the night this sober, you settle for a beer.

“barbaric. just like how i imagined you.” she huffs through her nose. what a priss you thought.

“its a classic” you correct.

the bartender passes you the bar. without missing a beat, you drink some and leave some on your mouth. then, you press your lips to karina and passes the beer to her mouth.

the president makes a disgusted face that makes you chuckle. you see her throat bobbed up and down.

your eyes fly back to her face, “tastes better when its from my mouth, yeah?”

you invade her space until her familiar perfume invades your senses again. “you wanna play my game, karina? sure. i don’t mind.”

“but what i don’t understand is what you’re breaking your heart for?” you say like you already know she’s the one who’s going to end up in tears.

“break my own heart? as if you can get even close” she scoffs.

“because your friends cried over me? please, they knew what they were getting into. it was their fault for not paying attention enough.” you ignore her. and while your words ring true, she still felt anger bubbling in her chest.

“or is it because the past council treated me like a queen?” you look at her in the eyes and laugh lightly in disbelief. her brows furrow in a blink of an eye, but it was gone the moment it appeared.

“i didn’t tell them to do anything. everything they did, they did on their own accord. maybe that’s precisely why it pisses you.i just butter them up a little and suddenly all my wishes come true.”

you had struck a nerve. it was why she’s in this crusade to end you. she worked hard for her seat in the council, fought for her reputation and earned people’s respect. meanwhile, you didn’t do anything and people still kiss the ground you walk on.

people fail to see you. the true you. manipulative and toxic. only she does and it frustrates her.

“but that’s why i like you. while others were blind, you saw reason. they were too busy winning my favor but you were plotting my downfall.” you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

suddenly, she grabbed you by your tie and crashes your lips together. her lips were soft as they looked. they contrast her aggressiveness. for a moment, both of you were list in your world full of hatred and anger for each other.

your teeth clashed and your tongues intertwine. when you pull away, a string of saliva connects both your lips.

karina takes your hand and lead you outside the venue where her expensive car is parked. both of you wastes no time getting in.

you don’t know how long the drive took but when you did arrive at her mansion, you were drowning in your own lust. in the blink of an eye, you were pinned in the door of her room.

your hands roam all over her, feeling every inch. her lips move from your lips to your jaw to your neck. while her hands reach lower and lower until she’s palming you. you throw your back.

“you think you’re so mighty.” she bites the skin beneath your ear.

“know what i like about being president?” she asks you even though shes aware you’re head is stuck in ecstasy to answer. “i get to put people like you in their place.”

karina rubs circles through your pants. your body burns at her touch, like there’s flames at her fingertips.

“why don’t i show you what your friends saw in me?”you breath out and she laughs at how stupid you sound. how could say that while you writhe under her fingertips.

“after all, you paid for a good time. let me show what your money is worth.” you you reach on to her back for the zipper of her dress. you pull it down, leaving her in her undergarments. your eyes feasts upon everything before you.

“like what you see?” she puts a finger on your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers. she smirks before kissing you again, slowly this time. her hands quickly unbuttons your shirt and you shrugged it off, not breaking the kiss. you were about to remove your tie but she stops you. “keep it on.” she says firmly.

karina grabs you by the tie and pushes you onto her bed by your shoulders. she climbs onto top of your abdomen. her once more before she pulls away and puts hand on your chest to keep you down. with one hand, she takes off her bra. her boobs spilling for you too see. your eyes meet as her hands massages her voluptuous tits, moaning. she bit her lower lip and threw her head back, just to tease you.

unable to resist any longer, your hands reach out to touch. but her hands were faster, she removes the tie around your neck and binds your hands. “you can touch next time.”

“right now. all of you is mine.” her lips attack your neck until they’re red and purple. hands explore your body until they stop at your chest. squeezing them before removing your bra. her lips move onto them next. she pinched, sucked and you ached for more.

next, she removes your pants and your panties, leaving you bare before her. she admires and for the first time you feel your face flare from someone looking at your body.

as if testing the waters, she puts her knees between your thighs and raises them until her knees barely touch your bare core. “fuck.” you let out a breath.

“don’t worry. i won’t make you beg.” this time, the unsaid words hang on her tongue.

“i’ll give you everything you want tonight. until you’re too drunk to remember anything else but me.” your breath hitch as her hands rub circles on your thighs.

‘by the end of the night, you’re going to be wrapped around my finger’ the thought makes karina smirk.

she gives you one last kiss before diving down, disappearing between your thighs.

[exilethegame]

if The Exile were a party system rpg-style video game, what would some of the characters voice lines in battle be? Like, if they won, or a companion went down, or a romanced Commander went down, or they got healed or something?

:))))) I had fun doing this.

For MC being down it's: platonic /romantic, and for healing it's: in need of healing/after being healed.

Vethna: MC's Down: "Ma Vysna! Hold on!" / "Tyrat'ri-- hold on, damn it! We've made it this far, haven't we?" In need of healing: "I need to heal!" / "Thank... you..." Victory: "And I thought Vygrand was violent."

Nikke: MC's Down: "Shit--! MC's down..." / "Hell no. Get back up, MC! You're not dying on me today." In need of healing: "Hey, uh, I don't think I'm supposed to be bleedin' from there. Am I supposed to be bleedin' from there?" / "Ah, yes-- the sweet satisfaction of cheating death... again." Victory: "You'd think they'd get the memo to stop trying to kill us by now, huh?"

Jost: MC's Down: "You're not supposed to take 'break a leg' literally, you know!" / "MC! You're okay-- you are okay, alright-- ? Just... stay there!" In need of healing: "I know you can see I need healing right now..." (said in the most passive aggressive manner ever) / "Ah, that feels good..." Victory: "F*ckers."

Amilia: MC's Down: "No! Stay there, MC, I'm coming!" / "No! MC!" (But it sounds like she's about to burst into tears) In need of healing: "In need of some help here. Now!" Followed by silence and then, a much quieter and polite: "... please?" / "Thanks..." (said with exhaustion) Victory: "I just love restoring harmony into the world." (Said very cheekily) OR, if the enemy is an animal: "I wish we didn't have to do that..."

Sabir: MC's Down: "MC! Get back up, damn it!" / "I'm coming, beloved. Hold on!" In need of healing: "Not to cause alarm, but I do have reason to believe I am on the brink of death." / "Ah, thank you. I'm a few steps from the precipice now, at least!" Victory: "... does anyone know how to get blood out of silk... ? ... no?"

Syfyn: MC's Down: "Stay down, MC-- I'll see it's done." / "NO!" (but screamed in the most utterly gut wrenching way ever in a mix of pure rage and utter terror) In need of healing: "We're taking too many hits here!" / "Thanks." Victory: "..." (She's cool and strong and silent. Maybe just like a small "humph" occasionally?)

Freedom: I feel like Freedom would be an RO that isn't a companion, ya know? Like you can't go out on missions with them but they're still part of the "main crew," and maybe they have a couple of special missions you tag along for. MC's Down: "That is... an inconvenience." / "Breathe, beloved. I will not let you fall so easily." In need of healing: "My body feels... weak...?" / "... odd." Victory: "Eugh-- their corpses already stink. Can we go now?"

[thewertsearch]

CG: I NEED YOU TO COME THROUGH FOR ME, BECAUSE WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF MANPOWER HERE. CT: D --> We are CG: YES DIDN'T I MENTION? FEFERI, KANAYA AND TAVROS ARE DEAD, SOLLUX IS UNCONSCIOUS, AND TEREZI IS MISSING.

It all fell apart so fast, didn't it?

One minute, he was sitting in the Veil’s rec room, bickering with Jade. The next, everything was blood and honking.

What the fuck happened to Kanaya.

You foolishly misplaced your glasses during your heroic revival attempt, leaving you with no way of communicating with the others to warn them.

Phew. You got me, Hussie.

But there is no one in here. Just someone taking a nap on the horn pile over there. And a big puddle of something next to the transportalizer.

We turned our back on Kanaya's body, and now it’s on the move.

Who’s the culprit, though? The only troll unstable enough to do this is probably Gamzee...

Are those.... fang marks?

KANAYA!!!

She's back!!

I mean, she's apparently a fucking vampire, but who gives a shit? We're back in business, baby!

Man, this is fucking random, isn't it? From where I'm sitting, it's come completely out of the blue. If it gets my girl back in the game, I'll take it, but how the hell does this even work?

I know Kanaya used to dream of being a vampire rainbow drinker, but dreams don't usually come true this easily. Alternia does have undead, so it's possible she was bitten before she Entered, but I would have expected her vampirism to have manifested much earlier in the session. She has always had pointed teeth, but I assumed it was just a natural trait in trolls.

Is it a Sylph thing, perhaps? The class is apparently 'more magical' than a Witch, so maybe Kanaya's latent magical abilities were triggered in death, restoring her to... undeath?

If that's true, though, then why a vampire? They don't have anything to do with Space, unless you count the fact that they're nocturnal, and thus active when the night sky is visible. I doubt that's even true for rainbow drinkers, who are probably diurnal.

Kanaya's thirst for fuchsia blood would suggest that her instincts have taken over for the time being. We won't really know how much self-control she has until she's face-to-face with a living troll, but I'm confident in her willpower.

That said... I'd absolutely love a villainous Kanaya. If she fully gave into her thirst, she'd be a bigger threat than all these idiots combined - especially if she has access to the traditional array of vampire powers.

Anyway, please excuse me as I pop the biggest bottles of champagne. Kanaya's back, baby!

[nicole-ashwood]

Double Exposure: A guide on how we make them pay and the signs that will show it's working

Yes, I know a lot of the hate is going to Deck Nine, and believe me some of that is deserved. But ultimately Square has final Veto power and dictates where the story goes thanks to studio mandates.

Either way, this first part is how we focus our own power and make the bastards fix this. You want change? Here's a guide.

Do not buy ANY more Life is Strange products. Corporate bastards only pay attention to cash flow. Hit their wallets.

If you have self control and decent writing skills, leave a review on Metacritic. Praise what works (Hannah, some of the writing, the inklings of a background plot revolving around an evil future Max), and damn everything else.

Everyone else? Try and do the same on Steam. Just make sure you have enough playtime (~30 min - 1 hour) so people will be more aware. Quality doesn't matter on Steam so much as the Community Score.

Attack the story and writing choices, not the cast and writers. Bosses exist for a reason, focus your fire if you plan on referencing anyone.

Do not dox, send death threats, or do ANYTHING that they can use to justify your dismissal. You want this fixed, don't stoop to their level.

If you can, vote in any game awards the series appears in. Hannah has another game on the way, we'll make sure she gets her proper praises then.

Get your opinions where they matter. Instagram, TikToc, Reddit, and Twitter are where the search algorithms look. Make sure people know how bad they fucked up here.

Return the game if you can, and just watch Let's Plays. Bleed them dry.

This game will only sell if we aren't loud enough. Games are expensive. Your average buyer will still look up reviews and scores before they pop down a 50.

You want change? Don't say it's hopeless and get to work.

You die when you lose hope, and if anything I at least plan on taking as big a chunk out of them as possible before then.

And now for signs we need to keep an eye out for.

Anonymous Employee leaks and what tone they are going with. If the leaks show us things like Arcadia Bay, character returns, or anything else that gives us a hint to the plot taking place in AB, those are good signs.

Keep an eye on anyone who might return, and what their upcoming work is. Rhianna/Chloe has the mystery Lead and is our best clue, but the actors for Joyce, David, Victoria, Steph, Alex, and Ryan are all people we need to keep an eye out for. If they plan on bringing in LiS 2, then keep an eye out for Daniel's actor. He is the only one who could really return.

Watch for updates to the Remasters and series wide collectors editions. Square is going to milk the shit out of any capstone game, and this is where they'll do it.

Look for collabs that feature Max AND Chloe. Those will be meant to keep the series fresh in peoples minds up until 2027/early 2028 (assuming the tweet screenshot I posted previously continues to be true).

Books that highlight Chloe's view will probably be on the way soon. A lot of the stuff we've seen regarding Chloe in this game points to them revising what they originally wrote so Chloe appeared less toxic then originally wanted (yes, I just heaved when I wrote that). These books will continue to soften her, and ensure that she is single for the next game. Yeah, I fully expect the next game to ape the theme of restoring bonds from the first.

Keep an eye on their LinkedIn. As of this writing, they have 101 employees, half of which are artists and designers. Expect that number to increase come January. The finance report for this game will be out by then, and Square will probably pour more cash into D9 to hasten the next games release.

This series can be salvaged. It needs to be salvaged, if anything because it's the loudest voice gaming has for those who are marginalized. This series, in our current hellworld, is too damn important to end on some bullshit pivot like this, but it's only going to make it if we force their hands ourselves.

If you are a fan.

If you care about LGBTQ+ issues.

If you want to help those who feel alone and without anything to look up to in life.

Then by the Gods you damn well better do your part.

[spiderfreedom]

my suffering is profound and legitimate, yours is frivolous nonsense

Just reading a blogger I like but I had to laugh because she was talking about how beauty practices are bad for women's mental health, and she left a note saying "unlike gender affirming care! gender affirming care improves people's mental health and it's nothing at all like cosmetic practices."

TIL, when an older woman gets botox to remove her wrinkles and avoid facing the inevitability of decline and death, her problem is spiritual/structural and she needs to Do The Work to deprogram her ageism, unlike people with dysphoria, who of course have legitimate claims to cosmetic alteration.

And it is cosmetic - no part of the body that is altered by HRT or SRS or any of the feminization/masculinization surgeries is failing to function or functioning poorly. The problem is with the brain, which perceives the body parts as foreign or undesirable. We may sympathize with someone struggling with such a condition, but that does not change that the body parts being altered were already healthy and the alterations are cosmetic, and the relief being brought about is mental.

But plenty of trans people openly admit that separating body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria is a losing game. Contrapoints's video on "Beauty" (transcript) has the observation that she feels least dysphoric when she is meeting feminine beauty norms:

But I also think that trans people often talk like gender dysphoria is this intrinsic, personal experience that's always 100% valid and never has anything at all to do with the external pressure of beauty standards. But in fact, gender dysphoria is not sealed away in a vacuum away from the influence of societal ideals and norms.  [...] When I try to psychoanalyze myself, I find that my desires to look female, to look feminine, and to look beautiful are not exactly the same, but they're woven together so tightly that it's kind of difficult to untangle them. And the opposite is also true, that for me feeling mannish or dysphoric usually goes along with feeling ugly. I don't have a lot of days where I walk out the house thinking "well, I'm giving femme queen realness, but apart from that I look like absolute shit". 

Max Robinson's book "Detransition," from an FTM perspective, points out how the prospective trans man views his suffering as unique from and distinct from women's, even as the surgeries they seek are not especially different:

The stereotypical cosmetic surgery patient is seeking to become closer to being perfectly feminine - she wants to be beautiful. Transitional cosmetic surgery, on the other hand, is widely understood to mark the patient as ex-female and therefore unfemale; this is part of the meaning FTMs seek to create through surgery. FTM desire for cosmetic surgery is positioned as something totally different than the stereotype of a woman who 'merely' seeks beauty at her frivolous leisure. FTMs are deemed to have a rare affliction that needs urgent, life-saving treatment. Conversely, there is nothing more common than for a woman to become obsessed with her socially-deemed 'unsatisfactory' looks and desperately seek to change them, believing that such a change is the only thing that can restore her quality of life. This comparison will feel like an insult to the FTM. It will feel that way because we believe other women's suffering doesn't matter, and recognize how much ours does. Women's suffering is ordinary but ours is extraordinary. For us to matter, we must be differentiated from the silly little woman who wants to be pretty so badly she'll pay thousands of dollars (now billable to credit cards and loan programs designed to pay for elective surgeries!) to risk her life and health. These women don't need to be fixed; we do. FTMs know that we don't deserve a woman's fate but have not yet realized that no woman does.

I have more to write on the topic of the relationship between gender identity and beauty culture, but I'll end this one here. It makes sense that somebody who is identified with the opposite sex would also be affected by the standards of beauty expected of that sex. (Non-binary identification is more complicated and requires separate treatment.)

[quitefair]

The Temple of Mythal and Greek Sculpture

Or: How Bioware takes from history without any nuance.

--

Picture this. You're me, playing Inquisition for the first time. You get to the Temple of Mythal, the doors shut behind you and you finally get to look around. It's a typical elven ruin for the game, nothing much seems different...

Hold on.

Hold the fuck on.

You know what that is.

You know what that's based on, and for a long time after it tickles you. Oh, maybe that meant something in the grander scheme of things! We've never seen such a blatant reference to a real-life sculpture anywhere else in game (to my knowledge at the time)! Maybe it'll come up later and it'll all make sense!

Here's the deal. I've been bothered by this for years. The more I think about it, the more angry I become. Anger over a single fucking type of statue, you say? There's a lot of other shit to be angry over in this game, and you choose this?

YES! I CHOOSE THIS! AND THIS IS WHY.

--

Picture this. You're me again, aged 14 this time. You're in the Louvre, the first museum of Western classical art you've ever been to. You've grown up in a place where this interest could only be cultivated from extra-curricular reading, and for a kid that age from my country to be ass deep in Greek and Egyptian myth is frankly lmao. Neurodivergent. Anyway.

So we're wandering around the Louvre, I've just taken my parents through the Egyptian section and given them a thorough infodump on everything I know about burial rites.

And then we enter this room. And I very nearly fall to my knees when I catch sight of her.

This is the sculpture the statues at the Temple of Mythal are based on - one Winged Victory of Samothrace.

She is a sculpture from the Hellenestic era, depicting the goddess Nike stood at the prow of a ship. Her head and both arms are missing, save one hand with two fingers (also in the Louvre but displayed separately). She was found on the Greek island of Samothrace, among the ruins of what was known as the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. It seemed like she was displayed at the top of a hill, looming down at all that regarded her.

I’ve had the absolute privilege of seeing her in person twice in my life, both before and after the 2013 restoration. And let me tell you, regardless of which staircase that leads you there, the sight of her will stop you in your tracks.

[Now with people, for scale.]

She is massive. Larger than life, and immediately is the centre of your attention. It's not the fact that she has no head, no arms. No, you will realise the closer you get to her, the more you're able to appreciate the details of this absolutely astounding piece of history.

No. It's because she feels so alive.

The way her robes drape against flesh, wet from sea-spray or rain, yet flowing with the motion of an invisible wind. The wings cast behind her dramatically as her right foot steps forward. Standing tall and proud, unflinching, unbowed against the elements. Even without her arms, you can feel how dynamic the torso and legs are.

You don't need to be an art historian, or even have any knowledge of Greek myth or art history to stand in front of her, as I once did as a young teen, and nearly be brought to tears.

So.

This brings me to the first of the two main gripes I have with the way this sculpture is used in Inquisition.

Compared to the way she's displayed in the Louvre, and also presumably how she was presented to her original audience - larger than life, looming, powerful, beautiful - she is relegated instead to smaller, repeating statues of the same nature throughout the temple.

This diminishes the purpose of the original sculpture, which was to instill a sense of awe and wonder. The singularity that forces you to focus and appreciate the scale and intricacy. The aura, the gravitas of having a single, massive sculpture of such a dynamic figure is completely gone.

And to make things worse, they Mythal-ify her. Adding a helmed head and changing her beautiful feathered wings to leathery dragon wings. They don't even add arms, which is odd because the original sculpture very clearly is missing its arms.

And, may I ask, Why?

It feels cheap, like they saw the Winged Victory and were like 'oh shit this is a cool sculpture, we should add it in game' without giving any fucking thought to what the sculpture means.

Which brings me to the second gripe. The complete disregard for the symbolism of the Winged Victory.

Detail from the Athena fountain, Parliament Building of Vienna, showing Nike the Winged Victory in the palm of Athena's hand [source]

Nike is a minor Greek deity, said to be the daughter of Pallas (a Titan) and the river Styx. Her other siblings by the same parents include Zelus (Zeal),  Bia (Might) and Kratos (Strength).

Yes. That Kratos.

She was one of the earliest gods to pledge her allegiance to Zeus in the Titonomachy, and after the victory of the Olympians, Nike and the other gods that allied with them were allowed to live on Olympus. In her aspect as Victory, she is closely associated with several of the major Greek gods, and in particular, Athena.

There's also her Roman counterpart, Victoria. This version doesn't come with the backstory Nike has, but is more of a general concept of victory. This is the aspect that is present in a lot of the modern sculptures and interpretations of Nike/Victoria:

Left: Detail from the Berlin Victory Column. Right: Detail from the Victoria Memorial, London. Note the similar iconography, of a woman seemingly standing against a strong wind, fabric and cloth adhering and yet flowing against the breeze, wings outstretched.

From this, we can probably extrapolate what our beloved Winged Victory might've looked like. Here's an artist's render of one possibility:

There's some iconography we need to go through before moving on - symbols that are commonly associated with Nike/Victoria.

One is the trumpet as see in the reconstruction above, the sound and symbol of the end of war, of impending peace. Another is the laurel wreath, another Greek symbol of victory and achievement. Famously, laurel wreaths were used to crown victors of the original Olympic games.

This is another conversation entirely, but there’s a discussion to be had about the duality of Elgar’nan and Mythal, in term of vengeance and justice, and how an emotional rage versus a calculated wisdom can be compared to the difference between the two Greek gods of war – Ares and Athena.

If we can compare Mythal to Athena, in the sense of her wisdom in making difficult decisions, then it’s not a stretch to associate Mythal with the symbolism of Nike, and therefore explain the presence of statues similar to the Winged Victory in her temple.

But since Bioware absolutely did not put this in the game for anything other than the Aesthetic, there’s some problems that need to be addressed.

Mainly in the way in which these statues are scattered throughout the temple. If you wanted static, ominous statues to line the walls as your player characters explore, perhaps have like, I dunno. Less dynamic statues that you reference?

Left: Nike of Paionos, Right: Stele 1 of Las Incantadas

Or maybe instead of statues, have friezes lining the walls. Like this one from the equally iconic Pergamon altar, depicting the Giganomanchy.

It’s the same symbolism, the wings, the smiting of foes and victory of good over evil.

And then perhaps, at the heart of the temple... where, y'know Bioware, lay a body of water sacred to Mythal herself, you could've perhaps done something remarkable. You could then have had the most dramatic and beautiful entrance you’d ever seen.

[Nike, at the iconic Daru Staircase, the Louvre]

It was at this moment that Mythal walked out of the sea of the earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray. - Codex entry: Mythal: The Great Protector

Mythal herself strides out of the Well Of Sorrows, the metaphorical tears of her followers that died and kept their knowledge alive in her name. Her (draconic) wings spread out, (restored) hands outstretched to touch her husband, to calm the rage that nearly destroyed this world.

A symbol of victory against the blind rage of a god against His father, the Sun. A symbol of wisdom and grace, against the violence of hatred. A divine sense of something bigger than anything we could imagine.

There's also the lack of iconography regarding victory, instead piling on some cheap representations of what we think of as Mythal. That's another post entirely on the symbolism of the Elven gods, but if Bioware really wanted to hone in on the Athena/Athena Nike parallels, they might have thrown in the trumpet/laurel/palm leaf symbolism with the statues, alongside the dragon wings.

If this were the case, then maybe, just maybe, Inquisition would’ve then earned the use of this sculpture in the game.

Sources not listed above/Further reading if you're interested

https://www.louvre.fr/en/explore/the-palace/a-stairway-to-victory

https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1412/winged-victory-the-nike-of-samothrace/https://smarthistory.org/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace/

https://smarthistory.org/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace/

https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ancient-art-civilizations/greek-art/hellenistic/a/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace

[mikaila-orchard]

Anduin still gets more respect and dignity than Sylvanas ever did and I'm still mad about it.

Aight, the new WoW trailer stirred up some old animosity that I have to get out lest it fester.

The problem I've had with Anduin for the past few years is something that isn't even strictly his fault, and is just symptomatic of how shitty the writing staff is. In theory, Anduin is an interesting bit of flavor for the Alliance. Someone who was raised in a very turbulent time in the Alliance's history, gone through some shit when he was too early to handle it and is plagued with self doubt because of it. All of this complimented by Velen's vision of Anduin's future going down two very different roads.

Alas, the problem is in execution. Because what we are left with in practice is a character who goes through comparatively less than other legacy characters (Thrall being raised as a slave, Jaina losing her home and loved ones regularly and Sylvanas with fucking everything) but who, by the time Shadowlands rolls around, insists that he is the one suffering the most and everyone else needs to get over themselves. And that wouldn't be so bad (hell, in Shadows Rising, it's kinda treated as a genuine character flaw) but that's not the case because WoW treats Anduin like the moral barometer of the franchise for many years now.

There are multiple examples of this throughout, but the biggest culprit is all across BFA and Shadowlands, where Anduin is made to understand the hardships that Sylvanas and the Forsaken have suffered, most of it by the Alliance's hands, and just shuts it down with "Everyone suffers, stop hiding behind your trauma and rise above it," and because BFA is framing him as the hero and Sylvanas as the villain he gets away with it. In the fucking Sylvanas book, he has the gall to say Sylvanas had a better life than him because she knew her mother and calls her selfish for committing suicide. And of course the book frames Anduin as being in the right about all of this because they decided Sylvanas holding him captive was the time they would even allow to let her reach out to someone and hope they understand her. The deck was always stacked against Sylvanas and in Anduin's favor in terms of audience sympathy.

But then, what happens in Shadowlands? He gets dominated by Zovaal, stabs the Archon (doesn't even kill her), maybe kills a bunch of unnamed npcs off screen, and fights his friends. Not a single tally to add to his body count while he was a puppet. And when he is freed from Zovaal's control, he doesn't lose his support system, he doesn't lose the respect of his loved ones or his people, and he's not put under pressure to just be okay again.

AND YET!

He still goes on this self imposed exile of his, and has been on it for over half a decade at this point, because he is just too haunted by everything he's 'seen and done'. Things that we as the audience don't really see. So in practice, the justification for all this on screen angst is so painfully weak. And yes, there's no wrong way to respond to trauma and there never will be, and Anduin's trauma responses are far from unrealistic.

But compared to Sylvanas, Anduin is giving a great deal more respect and dignity by the narrative for, comparatively, much less. Sylvanas was enslaved and forced to murder her countrymen (onscreen too, we MADE HER DO THAT in warcraft 3) and when she was finally freed, she had no support system besides her rangers and Nathanos, she was feared by her former homeland who only accepted her help out of desperation and was hated and distrusted by enemies and allies alike way before she might have done anything to deserve it. The game even leans into the idea that the Sylvanas who suffered all this trauma isn't the real Sylvanas and we just needed to restore her soul to have the pure pious ranger general back (barf). And she still has to toil away in superhell because the writers were too chickenshit to fully backpedal on the deliberate character assassination the sexual predator on staff forced upon her.

"Oh, but M'Kay! That's the writers fault, not Anduin's! You can't blame him for all that."

Maybe not but a lot of the issue here comes from the fact that so long as the people who enabled this inequity of care remains on staff (IE fucking GOLDEN) this won't stop. So what choice do I have but to loathe the byproduct of this fuckery when it's being shoved in my face like this? What other way could I possibly interpret this disparity other than as misogyny?

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start. Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again. "Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki.

Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add. Proud podium sitter for thousands of times. Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man, and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway. Without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the tragedy and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point in disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more, and it showed, despite dad's efforts to stay afloat. Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep going.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened. It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to sit and watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust away little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could do to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father. Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence. The only people that did were your team in the garage that saw your face every single day, from the mechanics to your personal PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway. It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him. "You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right. You could do this.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion. You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station but his steps halt once he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he says, flashing his extremely cocky smirk at you, adding a suggestive wink to go with the whole menu.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your rejection, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he starts doubtful, a little too focused on the writing littered over your left breast. "The shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead." He finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck is this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself. "Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo. If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red bruises before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples bathing him in the jackass façade he's got going on. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear that made hot shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty. Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver. The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Most important of all, respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

This first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring heat of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Next

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

[sacredashes]

i think people are misinterpreting why people are mad when we complain about the lords of fortune being """""ethical treasure hunters/pirates.""""" it's not that people are mad isabela THEORETICALLY learned her lesson from da2 and decided to spread it to everyone else. or that we want everyone in the game to be crazy evil.

the issue is with the FRAMING of, "we're not thieves, we don't steal. we don't steal culturally significant artifacts." because EVERYTHING in a tomb, or a ruin, IS A CULTURALLY SIGNIFICANT ARTIFACT. there is absolutely nothing from a civilization (that may be lost but IS being studied and the culture is STILL practiced by a modern group) that isn't significant when it comes to restoration, study, etc. there's so much value to gain from something like a broken vase that's being thrown down the drain for a pirate to steal and sell to some rando because "oh well it's not a religious artifact like the literal TOME OF KOSLUN, so it's fine." tomb raiding is ALWAYS bad, you're literally stealing shit from dead people. raiding ruins for treasure is ALWAYS bad. the idea that taash says this line like it means anything and rook can't go "yeah no, that's still stealing, they have the traps up for a reason," is a problem. glad a lof!rook can say "i'm pretty sure we do still steal though," but i do hate that it's locked as a lord option.

(and that's all without getting into the ‘finder's fee!’)

[avionvadion]

Ortho: "Those pieces of wood are not just sitting on their skin; they're rooted deep into their heads. If we tried to force them off, it would not end well! Furthermore... Eleanora Quince's health is deteriorating rapidly. The wood seems to be interfering with another magic already engraved deep in her body. She... may not survive the night if we can't discover the cause of these roots and how to remove them."

Listen, ya'll. I have October mapped out.

Halloween preparations start on September 30th (Divus says they have a "month" to prepare.) The Magift Tournament is in mid-October, so I'm going to have it take place on the 17th. Playful Land will be taking place a couple days after the tournament but a couple days before Halloween Week. (18-24th, as Ortho gives us a decent timeline at the very beginning of the event to work with, so it'll be one of those days) Halloween Week is the last week of October. (25th-31st, exactly seven days.) 

Considering everyone will be turning into living puppets, I'm treating that magic as a curse. Furthermore, Eleanora can not have another curse overlapping the one she already has. Thus, she gonna start dying.

There's already gonna be lasting drama from Book Two featuring Ace, but oooooooh boy this is gonna get DARK.

Especially since Eleanora would absolutely be considered a "defective" puppet. Once she starts visibly deteriorating and losing life, Fellow will most likely tell his "boss" that one of the puppets seem to be dying from the spell. If he does that, then the boss will probably tell Fellow to "toss the defective one overboard" and into the sea.

They can't restore her to normal and let her tell everyone what happened, but they can't sell her as a living puppet either. Easiest way to get rid of her is to toss her overboard while she's still being transformed.

Fellow probably won't dump her into the water right away, though.

Human trafficking is one thing, but murder is another. (Really? That's where the line is drawn?) So he'd probably be keeping an eye on her condition to see if she actually dies or not, checking her pulse every now and then, etc. Contemplating his life choices and why he's still working for such a rich asshole who treats him like utter shit.

As time passes, Fellow probably comments that Eleanora will end up becoming a "pretty corpse" after all, unlike her friends who will be living puppets, and Lilia will be pissed at that but can't really do much since he's also paralyzed from the wooden curse.

ALSO, since Fellow IS a card-

I'm trying to rationalize why and when he might end up joining NRC.

The only reasons I can think of after watching his SSR story and reading his voice lines, is that he realized he needs to actually learn the stuff he wants to be able to teach for when he eventually gets the funds he needs to build a school for the poor and the people with little to no magic. Because, even in his SSR story, he laments that he can't teach Gidel a whole lot of stuff since he himself never went to school.

(Him teaching Gidel how to read was the cutest damn thing oh my goodness)

But how did he get into NRC, when he doesn't have the magic for it or the cash? How was he able to establish himself as a student with Gidel as his "other half" similar to Idia+Ortho and Yuu+Grim, so he can build up his knowledge and make a proper game plan?

My idea is, he managed to catch Kalim in town and sweet-talked him into speaking to his parents, mentioning the offer Kalim spoke of before back in Playful Land, and at his behest Kalim's parents bribed the school into letting Fellow and Gidel attend, sponsoring the boys as Kalim spoke very highly of them. (Similar to when Kalim was supposed to be in RSA, but was transferred to NRC so he wouldn't be separated from Jamil.)

That said, I do think it would also take a couple months for Fellow to come to terms with his situation and make the decision to attend NRC after all.

As such... I leave you with this to consider:

Fellow showing up after winter break is over, at the start of January, just before GloMasq and Book Five. Thus being left with all of the boys who were nearly turned into puppets who still have grudges, and those who have grown fond of El after she saved them realizing this was the man who almost KILLED her, while Eleanora and Grim are off at Noble Bell College.

He will be in for a talking to, and poor El is gonna have to fight for her life trying to calm Malleus' rampage when they get back so Gidel doesn't lose his older brother. XD

[ignitesthestxrs]

i'm nearly done with veilguard and like. there have been some stand out narrative moments! it is, in general, a much better game and story than i feared it was going to be able to be post-anthem, and shaped much more like the game i wanted it to be once we got the news that it was going to be single-player only.

but. ultimately. it's sooooooo Player Choice Focused and so so so scared of making any big narrative calls one way or another that it has resulted in this game where the mechanics themselves take agency away from each of your companions and hand it over to your protagonist.

sobbing deeply like it should not be Up To Me to decide for a character What Their Culture Should Be, and honestly it's deeply fucked up that the game is making you make this choice regardless. as an example.

like the game offers you a plethora of choices, but there aren't actually consequences for any of them in a way that impacts you, the player, emotively or narratively. the big choice that might harden one or the other of your companions is like, a coin flip that the game is very careful to stress doesn't reflect on the...morality or world beliefs of your character?

what i mean by this is that in da2, if you make pro-mage choices in front of fenris, he'll be annoyed with you. if you talk shit about blood magic in front of merrill, she'll get mad. the choices you make are reflected in how your companions respond to you over time, however clumsily implemented mechanically they are able to be in a game made in 2011.

meanwhile this game made in 2024 has chosen to go the route of Everything Rook Says, Goes. this is articulated most clearly in the conclusion to davrin's quest, where he literally says 'i can't make this choice, but i trust rook to'. whatever rook says goes.

so while the choices you are presented with over and over again seem on the surface significantly weighted because it changes what events occur, they ultimately leave me feeling cold, because there's no emotional fallout in the wake of making them (maybe with the exception of treviso vs minrathous, but even then the issue is like, well i had to pick one and you lost the coin toss).

even if i do have opinions about the outcomes of one choice or another, the game assures me that those opinions don't have to come into the decision. because whatever you choose, in the wake of that choice, the specific companion will assure you that you made the right choice. even if they're mad about it, they understand that you had to do x thing. there's nothing you can do, or say, or believe, that fundamentally clashes with a character's world view. only bad luck that forces you into an untenable position, or the ability to convince any companion, eventually, that you were right.

idk i just think that narrative choices are only meaningful if you have to defend why you made them in some way - not because of their outcome, but because of what that choice says about the character your playing. if i decide to leave a shitty mayor to die and he comes back later as a monster to kill a bunch of allies, that's just a quest i'm ticking off when i kill him.

but if i then get confronted by a companion with opinions on restorative justice in the wake of that choice, now i have to actually contend with the impact of that decision i made in early game. now someone is mad at me, or disappointed. having to kill one more dude in a killing dudes game is not a consequence. the whole point of having companions in a narrative choice game like dragon age should not be to have 6 besties who agree with you and each other all the time, but instead a way to help figure out how you want to navigate the game world, story, and the choices you're going to make about it.

ultimately it feels like this game is terrified of interpersonal conflict in a way that sucks a lot of the joy out of playing this kind of rpg, and i'm sad about that. veilguard wants so badly to assure me that i'm doing amazing sweetie that it's ended up creating a world where i can only do amazing.

that, or i'm just so great at video games that i have won every interpersonal conflict in the [mumbled] hours that i've been playing veilguard. that seems likely.

[spitsonyou1]

Bloom AU

YES. THIS AU IS BASED OFF THAT ONE FREE MINECRAFT ADVENTURE WORLD. HEAR ME OUT.

Okay so instead of Alabaster getting exiled from the camps, Persephone is like "Oh well I have this one kind of hidden magical garden island that hasn't been checked on in a very long time" (very long time in meaning THE MEDIEVAL AGES. ISTG.) "and I've needed someone to do some cleaning up around there .." and yaddah yaddah the gods finally relent and send him over there.

Now the main point of the adventure world is to proceed from the homestead to the rest of the area, knocking down magical barriers with the magic pollen you harvest from flowers and plants you grow, as well as collecting materials to restore things like statues to get pieces of a story. But we're changing that just a bit.

So when Al is first sent here he is very much clueless. He very loosely knows that Persephone wants him to restore a dumb garden island that seems to have no way out.

He obviously doesn't want to do this. First he tries means of magic to get himself out—no magic. Panic ensues.

And before we say anything else, the gods made him immortal on that island, so if he's off the island, he's no longer immortal. AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING.

"Why would you make him immortal, maggie, WHY???"

Plot convenience

I was joking with plot convenience. The gods just didn't want him to die or something to get out of the punishment.

So he's trying to figure out whats going on, and realizes. Oh shit I'm literally alone FOREVER??? (wow took you long to figure THAT one out Sherlock)

So he's looking around the homestead which is very rundown (unlike in the game, which i think was unrealistic since overgrowth was in ruins) for anything that can help him. He finds a bunch of tools n shit, before running across a very weird plant in one of the rows of planters. Weird as in he can very well feel the magical energy radiating off of it.

Under this planter, he also finds a tattered old book—*insert name of the first book in the game you get because I forgot it*.

It basically explains a lot. How to use all the tools, start planting, and also on a little handwritten note at the end, how to harvest the pollen.

And now Al is gonna be interested, figuring out how to use the pollen's magical tendencies. He starts actually planting the flowers, and the gods soon forget about him because they think he's no longer a threat.

Except for the fact he's slowly progressing out of homestead to the rest of the island, finding out about who was there before him and how Persephone abandoned them (changing up the in-game story), and also on his way to get out of the island. Because who really wants to go insane from no interaction with anyone for the next eternity? Plus, he has all the time he needs.

I will probably elaborate once I get further on the game!

now take my doodles.

Here's Al in the AU ^ I decided to put him in a chiton because his other clothes had runes on them and gods take no chances

And also I realized that we have a very weird parallel of both Calypso AND myth!Circe lmao

So yeah 😋

[phen397]

Sonic Adventure 2 but told as notes I took while playing

OK here we go

Big game for the series

Not sure if this game has multiple story modes like in sonic adventure

But let's get into this

It has the same like 15 seconds of live and learn looped for the title and select screens

And OK

2 stories hero and dark

Let's start on the hero side

Above the capital

Sigma alpha

Captured hedgehog secured

WHAT IN THE WORLD

No food or movies gotta dip

I am sure that part of the helicopter isn't important

Skydiving now

With a snowboard

First stage city escape time to board down the city streets

Sick tricks off ramps

Fuck dem cars

Escape from the city indeed

Also got the song playing too*chef's kiss*

Done with boarding time to run

Oh God it's Omochao

Burn him

Break the boxes

Weird pipe?

Whistle

Oh hello raccoon friend

Jump scare robot

Got coloured tubes

Can use them to raise Chao

Run down the streets this time

Chao box

Got Chao key

U mean to tell me you are gonna hide secrets from me

Oh oh

You got me

Rabbit was hiding in corner

Got so much stuff it is falling off the screen

Is that bad?

Is it gone?

Where does it go?

Song still going hard af

Only now get told how to do a homing attack

Oh God Oh shit

Gun got a whole truck after me

BIG NO!

Big got crushed!

I will get you gun I will avenge you cat man

End of level

Def missed some stuff

E rank OOF

one sonic thing

Chao world

Welcome

Is this in space?

Who made this(lore)?

Ah yes the gate to Chao space

Spit out all the tubes

Next level

Boring game of tag

Boss time

F-6t Big Foot

What did I do?

Why all this effort for little old me

Avoid the flying shooter

Hit em when he lands

Boss done

"Hey guy take care"

What?

Oh hi shadow

Ultimate power jewel

Chaos emerald

What he want with it

Fake hedgehog

Chaos controll

Fast boi

Uses the emerald to warp

Ultimate life form has no time for games

Not again

Ah yes desert area

Rouge and knuckles at it again

Don't know when to give up

Master emerald is mine got it?

Can neutralize the emeralds

Eggman gets grabby

Knuckles shatters that thing

Look what you did

Can restore the pieces so all good

He says "bat girl" so aggressively

Find 3 pieces

Super chill music

Kinda nice just to explore and fly around

Lots of animals here

Big winds

First piece get

Another pipe to whistle at

Lonely statue looks Lonely

Thanks omachao

I got a dragon from the Chao box

Got a bomb

Got the last one and got squished at the same time

Chao time

Egg

Egg

Egg

Shake da egg

Rise my child

Oh

They steal traits from the animals

Oh they stack

Time to make an abomination

Waterfall cave

Chao cult?

Oh

Races

Enter the abomination

Crab pool sure

Level 1

Cheer them on

They are babies

Ah there are the crabs

These other Chao can swim

Got wrecked

OK maybe later

Prison island time

MY BOI

Tails time baby

Secret military base

Sonic would never rob a bank

Oh hi Amy

Amy needs help

Transformers (more than meets the eye)

Long load screen got me scared

Mech fight

Egg dead

Won't be so lucky this time

Ba ba ba bya byyyaaa

Amy here for sonic too

Tails got this shit

Tails needs no lady

Lots of robros

Lots of tubes

Big is trapped In a cell

What did he do

Free my man

Get him his frog

Sneaky bots

Level done

Gonna stop for now

See ya for the next one

[jubileeena]

BEHOLD: MALWARE AU

So. We all know Turbo. He's kind of the flavour of the month right now. He's a horrible little piece of shit and we love him for that!

As a result of a couple posts that I'll link when I'm on desktop (or you can look through my blog its some of my most recent reblogs) and That One Video Essay I got to thinking about how much of Turbo's actions came from his nature, what cropped up out of desperation and jealousy, and what came from the nightmare virus that ate him. Then I got to writing. A lot. And now I have a monster fanfic that might or might not ever get written but I might actually explode if I don't share some of it.

This snippet revolves around Vanellope, mostly, and my continuous ongoing realization that modding/slightly retexturing video games is actually a lot easier than I thought it was. Enjoy!

Prologue

Vanellope hasn't been a part of her own game for 15 years. It's long since figured out how to function around her, but now King Candy's been dealt with via hot cola insecticide and she adamantly refuses to ride in his little vanilla-white kart. Not with her own baby waiting right there for her.

Except the game really really wants her to.

The kart bakery is supposed to be a fun side minigame. The kart lasts until the player stops feeding the game quarters, then it will restore itself to the default kart for the racer.

She's been carefully ignoring the crackling parts of code that bubble up around her when she revvs the engine too hard for days now, telling herself it was just remnants of her own glitch messing with her driving. But right after she crossed the finish line at the end of the final race of that day, it glitched so badly she was left lying on the track as it rammed itself into the boundary.

She'd spent most of that evening moping around and complaining under her breath about the mess her predecessor had left her - - until she thought huh. If Turbo could program his whole throne-stealing butt into the game, why couldn't she just... Slip in and fix her kart?

Sour Bill didn't seem happy at all when she slipped behind the curtain of her throne room (bleh. Needed to redecorate that soon. Way too princess-y for her taste), but he dutifully agreed to stand guard as she followed the instructions on the handy little piece of paper that lay discarded on the floor.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, START

Yes! She jumped into the darkness without thinking, entranced by the nebula of nodes and string of information that made the glitch constantly buzzing under her skin sing.

This is what she was meant for. This was why the game kept her around. It loved her.

Her node was easy to find, set in the center as it was with streams of code coming from it. She blipped up to it, and kicked her feet excitedly as she floated in place, and tapped it to enlarge it.

Wow, it really was easy. All she had to do was find her primary kart file, and swap it with the one in the Bakery's subfolder that held the information for her baby, and that was that. No wonder King Boogerface managed to mess things around so much, if what was all it took.

Task complete, she turned around to try and reorient herself to find the exit again, but a flickering node caught her eye.

It was strobing worse than any of the others, and there was no visible text on it to give any clue as to what it could be. She blipped over to it and tapped on it-

Only to be thrown backwards as it quadrupled in size, mangled streams of code now visible through it's translucent surface.

She glitched again to lose her momentum and stop somersaulting through the void, then back towards the code box. She reached a hand inside and flicked her wrist in a movement she instinctively remembered, and pressed confirm when the prompt came up to clear the cache memory.

It spluttered for a moment, then as if expelling a sickness the darkness bled from the body of the node and dissolved into the void, leaving behind a little red code box, smaller and less defined than the rest, connected to everything with only a thin strand but with it's pixelated text quite clear for her to read, and her breath hitched.

Turbo