#we've been robbed lads

[witchofthesouls]

Mario anon. I forgot to include this in my ask but another reason I chose Mario is because of a place called Wooded Kingdom. There's a massive greenhouse known as Steam Garden where plants and machinery have a symbiotic relationship. Also the locals (Steam Gardeners) are adorable robots shaped like watering cans that love tending to the various flowers.

Btw, Cybertronian refugees would have a massive impact if they end up in Generator Rex. Nanites practically revolve around the species as a whole so seeing all these rogue ones definitely raised eyebrows. Amongst the group, a medic would have the most experience in deactivating harmful ones within organics. On the other side, a scientist could craft a device to block them out or render nearby ones inert.

A nice way to build a mutual partnership with the locals as volatile nanites have everyone scared about becoming an EVO at some point. Soon a secret town would form once both sides build enough trust and kinship.

Although it will only be a matter of time before Providence investigates these 'blank spots', places where nanites are fully inactive or neutralized. Rex would mistake a Cybertronian for an EVO until someone stopped him. He probably keep the town secret once he hears the story.

These giant robots are just common folk who fled from a planet sized war. Medics, clock makers, families with children, just to survive and aren't hurting anyone. People that Providence could hurt if known.

I also see an alternate universe where Rex was taken in by Cybertron's refugees than Providence. A mysterious cryptid able to cure EVOs but also live a more normal life. Plus knowing how much of an escape artist Bobo is, it won't take long for the two to meet and become friends.

There's just so much potential here!

Shoot, there are just so many ways this could be done.

War veterans with sparklings and mechlings

Neutrals that came under fire

Cybertronians that were completely out of the loop

Medic-evac or warship went done and escape went wrong

Stranded mecha that went into stasis (coughSkyfirecough) wakes up after ground zero affected the world

I'm not even going into "swapping" characters into different factions, like why not? Or a deeper exploration of their culture and biology in visual media. Like by a strange quirk of fate, F!Thundercracker becomes an Autobot inside Elita's troupe.

Imagine Old Man Kup having his hands full dragging back a belligerent, teenage Hot Rod away from Rex's missions.

Wreckers or the Dinobots battling EVOs that resemble Kaiju

A possibility of Aquania discovering or becoming a Titan

I'm really curious about the medics and scientists working with infected Earth inhabitants. Is it familiar enough to manipulate? Are they starting from scratch? Do any of them have a cross-discipline into organic life?

What if Rex's nanites are the Cybertronian equivalent of stem cells that are only found during early newspark development? That would explain all the wacky inventions and equipment Rex's body is capable of doing. They furiously specialize and supercharge construct to his thoughts (frame-schematics) and, to their complete surprise, revert back to the initial stem cell stage. Look, that's absolutely groundbreaking to them.

[agendergorgon]

Alien Vs Predator Vs Gender TW for SA discussed as it relates to stupid sci fi franchises that we've been stuck with since the 80s.

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Alien Vs Predator is a weird crossover/comparison to me because Alien is about cyclical stories of abuse and predation and control where corporations and governments and a monster with a penis for a head (and a second, smaller penis for a tongue (and a third, larger penis for a tail for when they really need to penetrate someone in front of horrified onlookers)) conspire to control the bodies of women and Predator is a series of films that ask you if you're a bad enough dude to beat up a big sassy lad in fishnets and a skirt with a vagina dentata for a mouth.

In Predator a big guy killed your mates for fun and now he's here to have an epic 1v1 with you bro because you got 1 hit in on him after he soloed everybody else. Whatever horror there is is from some sort of sexless macho man slasher with something to prove having to face a big sassy lad who is better at the masculine criteria of being an untouchable 80s action hero.

In Prometheus a lady has something slipped in her drink and later finds out she was impregnated against her will. Alien (franchise) is a very different kind of fear of a big strong dude stalking you and your friends.

No Predator is worried about the psychosexual or SA themes of the Xenomorph, they think its cool and they want to kill it and look cool killing it. In Predator (2018) a big cool predator kills a bunch of dudes and then a bigger predator comes and kills him. Predator (franchise) is to me the male fear of a bigger stronger dude. In AVP (2004) a lady has to step up and become the protagonist of a Predator film, by tag teaming a bunch of Aliens with the help of a The Predator. There are nods to the sexual violence of the Alien films, like a lady comparing the to a condom ("I'd rather have one and not need it then need it and not have one.") who then needs said gun to avoid having her face hugged. But the action hero lead ends up feeling like another action dude in the same vain as (in descending order of macho cred and strangely also ascending order of film recency) Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny Glover, Adrian Brody or whoever that dude in Predator (2018) that my brain kept telling me looked like Matt Damon was, just also happening to be a woman, vs Prey being a film that actually makes something of the added friction of being a woman in a Predator film. In AVPR (2007) our lead lad is a pizza boy who watches everyone around him die and has to rise to the circumstances like an Alien film protagonist... but doesn't face any of the same sexual violence. This dude gets bullied, fuck it, make the bullies call him faggot all movie, give him some horrific shower room trauma, there are ways to make this boy go through an Alien story. Holy shit, put a trans lad in an Alien film and the psychosexual horror of the facehugger/chestburster etc ratchets even further as far as the properties of this thing robbing you of control of your body, without resorting to whatever the fuck the writers were thinking with the maternity ward scene (don't google it if you don't know). I think a lot of Alien and Predator stuff is dragged down by the Predator's inclusion, forced to multiply the Aliens so more can get killed at every opportunity and give humans and Predators alike a chance to prove they're really cool. I think Predator and Alien are both about being afraid of a big dude, but the Predator is a big dude that makes you feel inadequate, unable to match up, and ends in the idea that you're cool, you win, you beat him. A Predator protagonist wins. They retire. They don't get another film. An Alien protagonist survives, and thinks she might be safe, and then wakes to find she's in another film, and that she gets to lose everything. She gets to be cut up and taken apart by a man who views her as his property or plaything. I grew up with these films, one's I was shown when I was way too young for it and laughed at gore and glowing green blood going everywhere. I read comics and played games and allsorts and I never thought enough about it until I was going through the wrong puberty and wishing I could look like Ripley and be anything other than the wankers in any Predator film without knowing any words to describe that feeling other than faggot. I worked stuff out and when my family stuffed me back in the closet so they didn't have to have awkward conversations with family friends I watched Alien Resurrection because that stupid film informs half my dress sense. I bitch to friends constantly that I wish I could find fishnets as thick as the ones in Predator so mine won't keep snapping all the time. I think about these films more than I think I do, and in the stupidest ways, and I know I'm going to see them until the end of time because franchises never die. But one of these series is about trying to survive as a woman, and the other is about trying to prove you're not a faggot, and I already made my choice there.

[rullakebu]

Island of Peludo (F/M, tickling, fur fetish)

The waves crashed against the dark hull as the tiny sloop ship rocked slightly from side to side, traversing the calm clear blue waters. ‘Midnight Horizon’ read at the rear. At the wheel Arthur, the new captain, corrected the course as he turned it gently. Taking in the sea air, he took a deep breath. It had been a long day of sailing the Caribbean, looking for easy targets to rob and plunder. The blonde haired man dressed in a black trench coat and a white flowing shirt had a clear heading in his mind.

Midnight Horizon was a small ship, a humble one for an ambitious pirate. After serving as a privateer for the Royal Navy and being given the boot, Arthur had sneaked into the harbor and captured the ship in the dark of the night. The ship was dark brown, almost black. Beige sails were hoisted in the masts, along with a menacing black flag. Decked with a few cannons the ship was equipped to defend itself against and attack smaller ships. Against a galleon, however, the ship was almost pathetic in size.

Arthur’s first mate Charles stood at the bow, watching for land. Arthur had recruited Charles after he had witnessed him win a bar fight. Charles fancied the pocket watch of another customer and took it by force. Deeming him as a capable man, Arthur had approached him. Together they had gathered a small crew loyal to the duo. Charles had long brown hair and wore a white shirt with a brown leather vest.

“Peludo, Peludo, Peludo…” Arthur murmured to himself with a breathy voice.

Peludo was a small island between Cuba and Jamaica, approximately the size of Barbados. Initially a Spanish colony, it had recently declared its independence from Spain. It had become a hub for trade. Everyone was welcome on the island. Spain had let the island go, not deeming it worth it to retake. It was a mistake, however, since after gaining independence, the inhabitants of Peludo discovered extensive deposits of gold, silver, and rare gemstones in the island's mountains and riverbeds. The island was led by one Theodora De La Cruz. A former Spanish noble, her father had spearheaded the independence movement and after his death Theodora had taken the reins.

“We’ll be rich soon, lads!” Charles yelled from the bow, promising great wealth and affluence for the crew.

Since gaining independence, Peludo had become a hub for trade and commerce open for everyone. Merely seeing this as an opportunity, Arthur and Charles had conjured up the idea of robbing Theodora and her prosperous town.

Arthur, the more cautious and strategic of the two, turned to Charles. "We need to be smart about this. Theodora De La Cruz isn't just any leader. She's cunning and well-guarded."

Charles nodded, his usual bravado tempered by Arthur's words. "Aye, but we've got the element of surprise on our side. No one would expect us to strike at the heart of Peludo."

“That be true, Charles,” Arthur responded, taking a quick drag from his pipe and blowing dark smoke into the air, the wind blowing it away.

“Land, ho!” Charles yelled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he pointed towards the distant silhouette of Peludo emerging on the horizon.

Arthur squinted at the island, his mind racing with the details of their plan. “Remember, we dock as traders. Keep your weapons hidden and your wits sharp.”

Arthur quickly sent the crew to lower the black flag. As they approached the bustling port, they marveled at the diversity of ships anchored there—traders from all corners of the world, lured by the island’s riches. The market was a vibrant tapestry of cultures, with merchants selling everything from spices to silks, and, of course, the precious metals and gems that had made Peludo so prosperous.

Arthur and Charles disembarked, blending seamlessly into the throng of people. They made their way through the crowded streets, their eyes constantly scanning for any sign of Theodora. The island's prosperity was evident in the well-maintained buildings and the general air of affluence.

Arthur and his crew traversed through the bustling markets and streets, hearing all kinds of dialects and tongues: Spanish, English, Creole, and others. The colorful stalls were filled with exotic goods, and the air was thick with the scents of spices and fresh fruit. Laughter and haggling voices added to the lively atmosphere.

“See all this? Think of how rich we’ll be tomorrow,” Charles whispered, cackling evilly to himself as he eyed the bustling market filled with valuable goods.

“Patience, Charles. We’ll be drowning in gold yet, but we must keep our wits about us and be smart,” Arthur responded, his voice steady and calm. He took a quick drag from his pipe, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air that quickly dispersed in the warm breeze.

Quickly, the crew found themselves in front of the town hall just on the edge of the market, the two-story Spanish colonial style building looming over the vendors’ shacks. The whitewashed walls and red-tiled roof stood in stark contrast to the vibrant, makeshift stalls surrounding it. The building's grandiose presence was a testament to the island’s rich history and current prosperity.

They saw a chariot being pulled by two massive white horses. The chariot's wooden wheels were accented by golden rims. The chariot itself was light blue and the doors were decorated with intricate carvings of sea waves and dolphins, giving it a regal yet nautical appearance. The golden trim glinted in the sunlight, casting dazzling reflections on the cobblestone streets.

Arthur and Charles exchanged a quick glance, recognizing the chariot as Theodora's personal transport. They moved closer, mingling with the crowd to get a better view.

The chariot came to a stop in front of the town hall, and Theodora herself emerged, her presence commanding immediate attention. She wore a dress of light blue, adorned with silver embroidery that caught the light with every step. Her dark brown hair curled down to her shoulders, framing her face elegantly. Ornate silver earrings dangled from her ears, catching the sunlight. Her hat was decorated with an array of blue feathers, their soft tendrils flowing in the wind. Draped over her shoulders was a massive baby blue fox fur stole, its luxurious tails hanging and swaying from each end.

Arthur and Charles watched from a distance, taking in every detail. Theodora's regal appearance and confident demeanor only reinforced her formidable reputation. As she moved through the crowd, she greeted the vendors with a graceful nod, her presence exuding authority and charm.

“She’s quite the figure,” Charles whispered, his eyes following the swaying tails of the stole. “But we need to focus on the plan.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes narrowing as he kept his gaze on Theodora. “Aye. We need to gather as much information as we can.”

They trailed her discreetly through the bustling market, blending in with the crowds of people. Theodora stopped at various stalls, speaking with the merchants and examining their goods. Her interest in the market was clear, but Arthur and Charles were more interested in the snippets of conversation they overheard.

“She’ll be gone tonight,” one of the vendors whispered to another as they passed. “Off to a meeting with the trade delegates. Her manor will be empty.”

Arthur's ears perked up at this. He nudged Charles, who grinned in response. This was the opportunity they had been waiting for.

“We’ll sneak into her manor after sundown.” Arthur declared, the plan slowly unfolding in his head. “We’ll send the others to rob the stalls and warehouses. You and I will take her house together.”

“Sounds like a plan, mate,” Charles giggled, rubbing his hands together in greed.

As the sun began to set, the duo made their way back to the Sea Serpent to prepare their crew for the night's endeavor. They reviewed their plan, ensuring every man knew his role. The ship bustled with activity as the crew readied themselves, each member knowing the importance of their task. The docks would serve as the primary distraction, while Arthur and Charles would strike at the heart of Theodora's wealth.

As night fell, Charles and his men moved through the darkened streets like shadows. They carefully picked locks and moved silently, taking only the most valuable items and avoiding detection. The market, bustling by day, was eerily quiet, and their work went unnoticed by the few guards and townsfolk still around.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Charles approached Theodora’s manor. The guards had thinned out, most of them stationed near the entrance or patrolling the grounds. Arthur led Charles to a side entrance they had scouted earlier, a small door partially hidden by ivy.

Behind the manor, they found a small shack nestled amidst the overgrown foliage. Inside, a ladder leaned against the wall, its wooden rungs weathered by time and neglect. Arthur and Charles exchanged a knowing glance, recognizing the ladder as a potential means of entry into Theodora's private quarters.

With practiced stealth, they lifted the ladder and carried it to the side of the manor. Arthur positioned it beneath a second-story window, ensuring it was stable and secure. Charles climbed up first, his movements agile yet gentle, making sure not to make too much noise.

Once Charles reached the window, he motioned for Arthur to follow. With a silent nod, Arthur ascended the ladder, his heart pounding with anticipation. He joined Charles on the narrow ledge outside the window, their breaths shallow as they prepared to breach Theodora's inner sanctum.

With a deft hand, Charles tested the window latch, finding it unlocked. He eased the window open, the hinges barely creaking in protest. Arthur followed suit, slipping through the narrow opening and into the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, they found themselves in a lavish bedroom, its furnishings elegant and refined. A four-poster bed dominated the space, draped with sumptuous fabrics and adorned with intricate carvings. Ornate dressers and cabinets lined the walls, their surfaces gleaming with polished wood and gilded accents.

With a sense of urgency, Arthur commanded, "Start checking the drawers."

Charles nodded, his hands moving swiftly as he began to search through the drawers of the ornate dressers. He rifled through them methodically, his fingers skimming over fine jewelry and objects in search of treasures.

As Arthur opened the doors to the cabinets, revealing the extensive collection of fur clothing, his eyes widened in disbelief. Full-length coats, hats, and stoles of different colors and sizes adorned the shelves, each piece more luxurious than the last. The soft, velvety fur shimmered in the dim light of the bedroom, casting a spell of opulence over the room.

"Sink me," Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of fur. He reached out, running his fingers over the plush material, marveling at its exquisite quality.

Charles, drawn by Arthur's excitement, hurried over to join him. Together, they sifted through the garments, their hands trembling with anticipation. Each piece seemed more valuable than the last, a testament to Theodora's wealth and status.

“Think how much we can sell these for,” Charles whispered, his eyes open in excitement.

"Filthy rich, we'll be," Arthur responded, his fingers caressing the sleeve of a coat, its soft fur yielding under his touch. He couldn't help but marvel at the luxuriousness of the garment, the sensation of the fur tickling his skin ever so slightly.

"Let's start packing them!" Arthur declared, pulling out two bags with a sense of urgency. He wasted no time in stuffing the fur garments into the sacks, his movements swift and determined.

Charles eagerly followed suit, his own bag quickly filling with the precious loot. The weight of their newfound riches hung heavy in the air, fueling their excitement and driving them forward.

"Did you see anything else?" Arthur asked, his gaze sweeping the room as he prepared to make their exit. The bags were filled to the brim with the elegant and opulent furs, their weight a tangible reminder of the riches they had acquired. There were some left on the floor, not fitting into their bags anymore.

“I found some jewelry in the drawer. I already stuffed me pockets,” Charles answered, stuffing his hand into his left pocket and pulling out a ruby necklace. He dangled it for a bit and then put it back.

Creak.

The duo heard a door open in the hallway beyond the crime scene. They looked at each other in shock.

“Theodora,” Charles whispered, his eyes open with terror.

"Aye," Arthur responded, his mind racing as he searched for a way out of their predicament. "Throw the booty out of the window, and then we'll climb down!"

"Good idea!" Charles agreed, his hands trembling as he hastily threw the bags out the window. They plummeted through the air, landing in a heap on the ground below. “I’ll go first!”

“Alright, but make it quick!” Arthur responded, shooing Charles with his hands and looking over at the bedroom door.

Step.

Step.

Step.

As Charles descended the ladder, Arthur kept a nervous watch on the bedroom door, his heart pounding with fear. Theodora's footsteps grew closer, each one sending a chill down his spine. They were running out of time.

Just as Arthur was about to make his escape, Charles suddenly pulled the ladder away, throwing it to the side with a clatter. Arthur's eyes widened in shock as he realized what his companion had done.

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed, panic rising in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but it’s time I be captain. The Midnight Horizon belongs to me now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it,” Charles said, winking his eye at Arthur. The betrayal, the treachery.

"Mutiny! Traitor! Judas!" Arthur's voice echoed through the room, filled with rage and despair as he watched Charles grab the heavy fur-filled bags and flee into the darkness, leaving Arthur to face Theodora alone.

As Theodora and her guards closed in, Arthur knew that his fate was sealed. He had been outsmarted and outmaneuvered by his own companion, his dreams of wealth and glory shattered by Charles's treachery.

Bang!

As the bedroom door swung open with a resounding bang, Arthur found himself face to face with two of Theodora's guards, their swords gleaming in the dim light of the room. His heart pounded with adrenaline as he braced himself for the confrontation that awaited him.

With swift, practiced movements, the guards advanced into the room, their eyes fixed on Arthur with steely determination. There was no mercy in their gaze, only the cold, unyielding resolve of those sworn to uphold Theodora's will.

Arthur raised his hands, completely out of options. Surrendering was his only chance at making it out of this predicament. “I surrender!” Arthur sighed, looking down and a single tear falling from his eye.

He lifted his gaze and saw Theodora gracefully walking into the room, her baby blue fur stole swaying with each step. She scanned the room, glancing at the open cabinets and drawers. She saw the leftover furs scattered on the floor. Walking over to them, Theodora knelt down and lifted up a silver fox jacket. Theodora looked at it and dropped it to the floor once more. Rising up, she looked over at Arthur, whose heart was ready to beat out of his chest.

"¿Quién eres, hm? Who are you?" Theodora's voice was calm yet commanding, her words cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

Arthur swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of courage he possessed as he met her gaze head-on. "My name is Arthur," he replied, his voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at his insides. "I'm just a humble sailor, caught up in circumstances beyond my control."

He watched as Theodora's expression softened ever so slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in her eyes. But beneath her facade of composure, Arthur could sense the calculating mind of a ruler who saw through his facade and sought to uncover the truth lurking beneath.

"I... I can explain," Arthur stammered, his mind racing as he searched for words to defend himself. But try as he might, he knew that there was little he could say to absolve himself of the crimes he had committed.

Theodora regarded him with a cool detachment, her eyes narrowing as she assessed his every word and gesture. She was a woman accustomed to power and authority, unyielding in her resolve to maintain control over her domain.

"You may have intended to rob me," she continued, her voice soft yet commanding, "but you have failed. And for that, you will pay the price." She lifted her right hand, placing it on the shoulder of a guard gracefully and squinting her eyes and smirking to herself. “Llévalo al calabozo de las cosquillas.”

Not understanding Spanish, Arthur's heart raced as he was led away by the guards, confusion clouding his mind as he tried to make sense of Theodora's cryptic command. He couldn't understand the words she had spoken, but the look of satisfaction on her face sent a chill down his spine.

They reached their destination: a dimly lit chamber with stone walls and a single barred window. The guards shoved Arthur inside. Falling on his knees, he was lifted up and undressed. The guards peeled away his coat, shirt, slacks and boots, leaving him naked. They lifted his arms and attached them to shackles that hung from the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a padded metallic stool with stocks attached to it. One of the guards took Arthur by the legs and lifted them on it, securing his feet into the stocks.

Arthur was on his knees on the stool, with his wrists shackled to the ceiling and ankles restricted by the stocks. He tried swinging but the stool was too heavy. He wasn’t going anywhere. Arthur heard heels clicking and closing in on the cell. He saw Theodora making her way down the dungeon corridor, dragging behind her one of the bags that was dropped.

She stepped into the room, placing the bag just next to Arthur. "So, you thought it was a good idea to rob me, hm?" Theodora's voice was soft yet cutting, her words laced with an undercurrent of menace. Arthur could feel her eyes boring into him, piercing through his defenses with their intensity.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, his gaze fixed on the cold stone floor beneath him. He could feel Theodora's eyes on him, their gaze like daggers piercing through his defenses.

Arthur shivered as Theodora's fingers trailed across his chest, her touch both gentle and menacing. Her presence was overwhelming, and the cold air of the dungeon seemed to thicken with tension. "I'm sorry but that will not cut it," she said, her voice a blend of sweetness and threat. She continued to circle him, her hand never losing contact with his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

After finishing the round, Theodora stood before Arthur, taking in the sight of him bound and helpless. She took a hold of a single tail of her stole, brushing the soft fur under his chin. “Do you know what this place is, hm?” She trailed the stole under his chin from ear to ear. The fur teased his skin, sending tingles down his neck.

“N-n-no, madam,” Arthur admitted.

Theodora's smile widened at his response. She released the stole and moved behind him, her hands gently stroking his sides. Arthur could feel her breath on his neck, the proximity of her presence both comforting and terrifying.

“This is my tickle dungeon,” she whispered, her fingers starting to skitter along his sides.

“The Wha-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Arthur laughed, feeling Theodora’s tickling fingers on his bare sides.The light, rapid flicking of her nails was intense, and Arthur's body jerked involuntarily as he tried to escape the ticklish onslaught.

“That’s right,” Theodora continued, her voice smooth and sultry. “I bring people here to punish the poor criminals of my island. To torture them with teasy, tantalizing, torturous tickling. We do not have a prison but this space under my manor instead, designed to make offenders like you howl with laughter and beg for release.”

Arthur twisted in his binds, laughing and cackling to no end. Theodora’s wiggling fingers descended, targeting his sensitive waist line. “You have no idea how many people I’ve brought here to tickle and torment,” Theodora teased, her voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and menace.

Arthur’s laughter became more frantic as Theodora’s fingers explored his waistline. Each tickling stroke of her fingers sent electric jolts of sensitive torment up his nerves. Theodora had not tickled him for long, yet had him howling like he had been tortured for hours.

“I’ve had pirates, thieves, and all manner of scoundrels in these very stocks,” Theodora continued, her fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. “Some thought they could outsmart me, others thought they could overpower me. But in the end, they all learned the same lesson,” she teased in his ear. “Cross my trust and you get tickle, tickle, tickled.”

“HAHAHAHAHA! LET ME GO! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” He commanded but his pleas fell on deaf ears as Theodora continued abusing his sensitive waist, causing Arthur to twist and turn, but unable to evade the ticklish onslaught.

“I am afraid I am unable to fulfill your request, my ticklish pirate,” Theodora clapped back, her fingers never slowing. “You see, this is your punishment. You wanted to steal from me, and now you must pay the price in laughter.”

Arthur’s cheeks turned, realizing the severity of his ticklish predicament. He wasn’t going to be let go soon. He was Theodora’s to tickle and torture as long as she would like. Nothing would stop her from tickling him to death as punishment.

Theodora’s fiendish fingers traversed upwards, easing up on his waist. They traveled back up his sides, eliciting loud laughter out of Arthur. Taking a pause, Theodora concentrated her tickling at his sides for a moment, driving him wild with desperate ticklish howls, before traveling upwards towards his wide open armpits.

Theodora moved back in front of him, her fingers teasing his armpits. She stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching, the soft fur of her stole brushing against his chest, adding a layer of pleasant sensations to Arthur's already overwhelmed senses.

"You see," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, "this is what happens to those who try to take what is mine." Her fingers began to explore his armpits with renewed vigor, her nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin. “What is your name, hm?”

“AHAHAHAHAHARTHUHUHUHUHUR!” He answered, his cackling making it hard to form coherent words.

“Arthur?” Theodora repeated, her voice gentle, smooth and sultry. “Such a strong name, such a strong figure yet so sensitive and ticklish,” she teased, biting her lip and sighing gently. “Tan cosquilloso…”

Arthur’s laughter echoed off the tickle chamber’s walls, the sounds of desperation amplifying with each bounce. His laughter and pleas were like music to Theodora's ears, a symphony of his suffering that she conducted with expert precision.

"Yes, that's it," she purred, her fingers never ceasing their relentless dance over his sensitive skin, now focusing on his helpless ribs. "Let it out, Arthur. Let all that resistance melt away. Laugh for me. It tickles. Hace cosquillas, sí. Coochie coochie coo."

Her nails trailed down his ribs, electric jolts of ticklish agony coursing through his body. Arthur's muscles twitched and spasmed involuntarily, his mind a whirlwind of hysteria and exhaustion. Each touch was both a torment and a strange, humiliating pleasure that he couldn't escape.

The fur of her stole continued to brush against his chest and stomach with every turn, the softness a stark contrast to the relentless tickling that had left Arthur's skin tingling and hypersensitive. Even in his state, the sensation was surprisingly intense yet pleasant, a reminder of Theodora's power over him.

Theodora took notice of the stole caressing his chest. She slowly ceased her tickling, stepping back for a moment. As Arthur's laughter subsided, he became acutely aware of the soft fur against his skin, a welcome respite from the overwhelming sensations he had just endured.

"Enjoying the sensation, are we, Arthur?" Theodora's voice was playful, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the fur, tracing the intricate patterns with delicate precision.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It feels... nice."

Theodora looked over at the bag she had brought with her to the dungeon. “I see you were trying to rob me of my furs, Arthur. You and your friend…”

Arthur grinded his teeth at the mention of Charles, the treacherous scallywag. “Charles… the bastard… How did you get that bag?”

"I see the mention of your friend angers you, Arthur," Theodora remarked, her tone calm yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "We caught your friend at the gate. He couldn't get very far. We also captured your crew. They're here, in the dungeon, and a bit... preoccupied. My maids are... taking care of them."

Arthur's heart sank at the news of his crew's capture, his mind racing with worry for their safety. He knew that Theodora's maids were not to be underestimated – they were skilled in the art of tickle torture, just like their mistress, and Arthur feared what fate awaited his comrades in the dungeon.

"Now, the furs. What were you planning to do? Sell them?" Theodora's voice was calm, but there was a steely edge to it. He knew that she was not to be trifled with, especially when it came to her prized possessions.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were planning to sell them. We thought... we thought it would be an easy way to make some money."

"Mm, do you know why I have so many furs, Arthur?" Theodora queried, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "It's because they're symbols of indulgence, of lust, of decadence."

Arthur listened intently, curious about Theodora's motivations for collecting such opulent garments. He had always admired the luxuriousness of fur coats and stoles, but he had never considered the deeper meaning behind them.

"They're also symbols of power," Theodora continued, her eyes gleaming with intensity. "A woman in fur commands attention, demands respect. And I must confess," she added, her tone growing more husky, "I have a bit of a fetish for them myself. There's something about the way they feel against my skin, so soft, so luxurious."

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling a flush creeping up his neck at Theodora's suggestive words. He had never imagined that she might have a fetish for furs, but now, as he watched her caress the soft fabric with evident pleasure, he couldn't deny the undeniable allure of her confession.

Theodora reached into the bag and lifted out a long, brown, finn raccoon stole. She stepped closer to Arthur and brushed the stole against his inner thighs, tickling under his chin with her other hands. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Theodora brushed the soft fur against his thighs, shivers of pleasure spreading all over his lower body. He couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, his body responding instinctively to her touch. The fur brushed him ever so gently, causing his member to twitch a little in pleasure.

"Aye," he managed to stammer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I agree."

Theodora smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Bueno," she purred, her voice low and husky. "Because I intend to share with you how pleasurable, how intoxicating fur can be.” With that, she wrapped the finn raccoon stole around Arthur's shoulders, the soft fur enveloping him in its warmth. His skin tingled with pleasure as Theodora's hands stroked the stole, causing the fur to brush against him as well. She leaned in close to his ear again. “To show you what you were so ready to take away from me.”

She struck her fingers on his stomach, suddenly resuming her ticklish torment. Arthur was caught by surprise as he began to giggle once more. Theodora's touch was like lightning, directing bolts of pleasure racing through Arthur's body as her fingers danced over his skin. He couldn't help but laugh, the sensation both torturous and exhilarating at the same time.

"Yes, I'm not done with you just yet, Arthur. You haven’t been tickled and teased enough. I plan on driving you insane with tickles and arousal. I will tickle you and pleasure you with fur until you go mad," Theodora whispered, her voice dripping with mischief. She continued her ticklish skitters, her fingers carving short sensitive paths of tickle on his stomach.

Arthur’s laughter filled the dimly lit dungeon as Theodora's fingers tickled and teased him without mercy. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, leaving him breathless and wanting more.

“But don’t worry, Charles and the rest will receive just as thorough a tickling as you,” she consoled, her teasing words not helping his case. “But not so much pleasure on their part,” Theodora said, taking a hold of her stole and brushing it along Arthur’s twitching sex for a moment.

Arthur’s laughter mixed with slight moans as the soft stole caressed his exposed manhood, the pleasant brushing bringing about a growth spurt in his erection. Noticing his excitement, Theodora giggled and lifted her hat off her head. Forming a claw with her fingers, she stuck her fingers into the blue sea of ostrich feathers on her hat. She plucked a bouquet of long, soft feathers from her hat, her eyes twinkling with erotic mischief. Theodora brought the feathers closer to Arthur's exposed manhood, wiggling the feathers with each moment as they inched closer and closer slowly, teasing him with their wriggling tendrils.

Arthur bit his lip as he felt the feathers brushing against his groin, producing waves of ticklish feathery pleasure coursing through him. His erection throbbed with anticipation, straining against its confines as Theodora continued to tease him with her feathered touches. With her other hand she carried on with tickling his upper body, contributing to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. Arthur tried to stifle his moans of tickly delight, his arousal growing with each passing moment.

The fur stole hanging from his shoulders added to Arthur's pleasure, the soft hairs brushing against his skin as the stole swayed with his twitches and ticklish squirming. Each movement sent ripples of sensation through him, intensifying the pleasure of Theodora's touches and the feathers teasing his most sensitive areas.

Theodora giggled playfully as she leaned in close to his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin. "Tickle, tickle, tickle…" she whispered, her voice sultry and filled with erotic charge, as she blew gently into his ear.

She let up with the tickling on his upper body as she gave a fast ticklish flurry with her feathers, like a tickle hurricane, before pulling them away. The feathering had left his cock twitching and begging for attention. Theodora stroked it slightly with one pump before circling back behind him. She kneeled down by his feet as Arthur panicked, trying to see behind him.

Suddenly Arthur felt Theodora’s scribbling fingers on his bare feet. Squealing with laughter, he tried to pull forward, wishing to free his feet from the stocks. His feet were incredibly ticklish, and each touch conveyed waves of ticklish pleasure racing through him, driving him to the brink of madness.

But no matter how hard he struggled, Arthur was unable to escape Theodora's relentless tickling, his laughter filling the dungeon once more as she released a newfound flurry of tickle torture on his sensitive soles. With each scribble, Arthur's laughter grew louder, his body writhing as Theodora expertly exploited his most sensitive spots.

“Qué cosquillas tienes en los pies, Arthur,” she teased, knowing he did not understand Spanish. She knew, however, that he would understand the gist of what she had said. There was no language barrier in tickle talk. It would fluster him either way, reminding him of his ticklish trouble.

Her fingers explored his feet thoroughly. She tickled and teased across his arches, forwarding ticklish pleasure through him. She traced circles around his toes, eliciting squeals of laughter as she expertly exploited his most sensitive spots. She knew exactly how to make him squirm and giggle, her touch driving him to the brink of madness with its tantalizing intensity, knowing that she could reduce him to a helpless, giggling mess with just the touch of her fingers.

Theodora lifted her left hand from Arthur's foot, reaching for the feathers once more. Grasping a handful of soft, downy plumes, she held them aloft, a wicked grin playing on her lips as she prepared to resume her ticklish assault. She reached to tickle him behind his knees and the back of his thighs with the feathers. Surprisingly feather sensitive, Arthur jumped at the intense tingling sensations behind his legs. Theodora traced the feathers up, down and around the backs of his legs as she continued to ravage his feet with her tickling fingers.

“Does it tickle, hm? Do you like the feathers, Arthur? Are they ticklish on your legs? Is the tingling sensation you feel intense? Does it feel good, hm? Do you like being tickled, Arthur?” Theodora asked, her tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of seduction.

Arthur could only respond with laughter, his breath coming in short gasps as Theodora's feathers danced over his skin. Each stroke drove pleasure of tickling coursing through him, his body alive with sensation. His cock twitched from the erotic attention he was getting, dripping droplets of precum onto the stone floor of the tickle dungeon.

Seeing the droplets hitting the floor from under the stool, Theodora giggled. "I think you really like being tickled, Arthur," she teased, her voice dripping with tease and seduction. She continued to stroke him with the feathers as she separated them into two bundles.

Theodora rose up from his feet, feathering his legs and back as she stood up. She wiggled her feathers on Arthur’s sides as she made her way back in front of him, her movements graceful and seductive. With each stroke, she drove him to new heights of ecstasy, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

Theodora looked down at his cock, seeing it throb in need of her touch, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she observed his desperate need for release. With a slow and deliberate movement, she reached out her hand, her fingers trailing lightly over his straining length. “I think I’ll tickle you for a little bit longer. What do you think, Arthur?” Theodora's voice was a seductive whisper.

He squirmed and writhed in his restraints, his body aching for release as Theodora continued to torment him with her playful teasing. “Please,” he begged, his voice shaky from the non-stop laughter. “I can’t take more tickling. Just let me cum…”

“Aww, tan necesitado…” she teased, making a duck face with her lips. “Just a bit more tickling…”

With that she coupled the feathers again into one cluster. Almost looking like a feather sword, it was long and menacing, its soft feathers promising intense, arousing soft tickling for whoever was on the receiving end.

She stared at him, directly into his eyes, as she started to kneel slowly with the tickle sword in hand. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest, his body tingling with anticipation of what was to come. He squirmed in his restraints, his skin already sensitized from her earlier treatments, the thought of her feathered touch scaring him a little bit.

With a flick of her wrist, she brought it down upon Arthur's exposed manhood, the soft feathers teasing and tantalizing him with their ticklish caresses. Arthur could only gasp and moan in response, his body writhing and tingling as Theodora's feathered touch drove him to new heights of ecstasy. He lost himself in the sensation, surrendering completely to the pleasure of her ticklish torment as he verbally announced his arousal to Theodora.

“Kitchy kitchy, Arthur… Surrender to the tickle… Relajate… It tickles… It feels so good… It excites you, Arthur… It tickles…” she teased, getting into his head with her maddening tickle talk.

“It tickles… It tickles… It tickles… It tickles…” That phrase echoed in Arthur’s mind, repeating over and over and reminding him of his ticklish predicament. His whole body was on fire. Every nerve, every vein tingled with ticklish pleasure and arousal. He was so close. He was so damn close. He would give everything he had plundered over the years to Theodora just to climax. He would’ve given the Midnight Horizon to her. He would give anything. “It tickled… It tickled… It tickled…” He was going insane.

As Theodora lifted her tickling feathers from his cock, Arthur let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing slightly as the intense sensation subsided. He watched with anticipation as she reached up and lifted the stole from his shoulders, exposing his bare skin to the cool air of the dungeon.

With each movement, Theodora's graceful hands sent shivers down Arthur's spine, his skin tingling with excitement at her touch. He felt a thrill of anticipation as she peeled away the soft fur, revealing his naked form beneath in its entirety.

With the stole now removed, Arthur felt more vulnerable than ever, his body exposed and at the mercy of Theodora's desires. But even as he trembled with anticipation, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

With the stole in her hand, Theodora glanced down at Arthur's throbbing cock, her eyes lingering on his arousal before returning to meet his gaze. There was a wicked gleam in her eyes, a promise of pleasure yet to come.

She leaned over, spreading the soft, elegant, fuzzy finn raccoon stole slightly. With that, she wrapped it around his charged manhood, its soft fur wrapping it in a warm, intensely pleasurable cocoon.

Arthur moaned, his whole body tingling with pleasure as the luxurious fur caressed his sensitive skin. Theodora's touch was gentle yet firm, her fingers deft as she adjusted the stole to ensure maximum comfort and pleasure for Arthur. He felt a surge of arousal unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As Theodora began to stroke his cock with the stole back and forth, Arthur sighed a moan softly at the exquisite sensation. The soft fur glided over his sensitive skin, gently tickling and dispatching intense surges of pleasure flooding through his body with each gentle caress.

Lost in the moment, Arthur closed his eyes, allowing himself to be carried away by the sensations washing over him. With Theodora's skilled furjob filling him with fuzzy and slightly ticklish ecstasy, he knew that he was in for unparalleled pleasure and indulgence, all thanks to the exquisite touch of the fur stole in Theodora's hands.

“Let go, Arthur. Sink into the feeling of the stole on your cock. It totally engulfs you. You’re entirely wrapped up in my soft furs. It feels so soft and pleasurable. Its soft caresses are not like anything you’ve felt before,” Theodora whispered, her voice a sultry purr as she continued to stroke him with the stole.

Arthur's mind was filled with nothing but the intoxicating sensation of the fur stole, its softness enveloping him in a cocoon of pleasure. He let go of all thoughts, all worries, all inhibitions, allowing himself to be carried away by the sheer ecstasy of the experience.

As Theodora's strokes grew more intense, more urgent, Arthur felt himself teetering on the edge of release. With one final, electrifying stroke, he tumbled over the edge, his body convulsing with pleasure as he succumbed to the overwhelming ecstasy of his climax.

As Arthur spasmed with pleasure, the stole continued to stroke him with gentle, rhythmic movements, prolonging his climax and intensifying the waves of ecstasy coursing through his tickled and abused body. Each stroke routed streams of intense ticklish lust rippling through his body, drawing out his release and prolonging the exquisite sensation of bliss.

Finally, as the last waves of pleasure washed over him, Arthur let out a contented sigh, his body limp and spent from the intensity of his climax. He hung there, basking in the afterglow, his mind awash with a sense of euphoria and satisfaction.

Theodora looked at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she observed the blissful expression on his face. She leaned in close, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead before stroking his cheek.

"Sleep well, Arthur. I’ll go handle the punishments of your mates now. We’ll have so much more ticklish fun tomorrow," she whispered, her voice a gentle murmur as she turned to leave the tickle dungeon, leaving him to drift off into a peaceful slumber, his body still tingling with the lingering echoes of pleasure.

[cherry-shot]

Pizza Tower didn't win Debut Indie Game of the Year?

We've been robbed lads

[inposterumcumgaudio]

Poedit Cut/Unused Content: Cap'n Strawbeard

Seems Arthur had an interaction in the pub with Cap'n Strawbeard that didn't make the cut.

Strawbeard vs. the barkeep

001 ARRRR! Innkeep, a flagon of your finest rum for a buccaneer with a thirst as fierce as the Drake Passage.

002 We've got scotch, mate. You owe me five quid.

003 I will happily pay you when my ship comes in.

004 The Flying Dutchman? Maybe you can get one of these fine landlubbers to spot you a bottle.

005 Arrrr.

Arthur initiates conversation:

006 Arrrrr! I be in no mood to chinwag with tea-drinking landlubbers. Go drink your water and be done with ye.

007 Away with ye! I got me own sorrows to drown, and nothin' to drown them with.

008 Take a long walk off a short plank, laddie, unless ye've a mind to spot me a bottle.

009 WILL NO ONE STAND A POOR RETIRED PIRATE TO A BOTTLE?

010 A bottle for my peg-legged friend!

011 Ahhh, that feels better than going down to Davy Crockett's locker!

012 You mean Davy Jones?

013 Don't get all high and mighty with me laddie! When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

014 Let me tell you, laddie, I have sailed the seven seas. Landlubbers fear me and my scurvy pirate crew. We have looted and plundered to the four compass points. Islanders fear my black sails. I have emptied their larders of food, and their chests of sovereigns, and buried it where I will. The sovereigns, obviously. Not the food. That would go bad.

015 Buried treasure, you say?

016 Indeed. But you won't see me boasting about it. Not unless you'd care to spot me another bottle.

017 Of course not. Barkeep? Another bottle for the pirate.

018 Aye. That's better. The dread pirate Strawbeard has scoured the island of the Virgin for all that is worth taking, and buried it out of sight. And the island of King Lud, where once was a great civilization, but now the people huddle in the ruins over camp fires, fearing the night walkers. I have given them food to eat, and for that, they trade me parts. Some of which, I buried. Ye never know.

019 That's awfully Robin Hoodish of you, taking from the fat and giving to the thin.

020 Aye, but ye won't catch me boasting about it. Not unless you'd care to spot me another bottle.

021 Aren't you worried about your liver?

022 How about a little less interrogatin' and a little more hospitality?

023 All right. Barkeep? Another bottle for the Captain.

024 I have been to the island of the Knight. Happy it is by day, but by night, oh, I am the terror of their town, for I descend upon their houses in silence, and make off with all their booty. And I have been to the island where they eat nothing but Eel Pie, and precious little of that. They starve, and dream of home. It is a sad place, and I'd rather not talk about it. And one day, I shall sail to the island of Apples, and sack their proud tall buildings, see if I don't.

025 Eel pie... King Lud ... the Maiden ... Apple Holm. So ... basically, you're a burglar. You rob buildings in Wellington Wells.

026 Arrr! No! I am a pirate!

027 Have you got a boat?

028 Errr... I was in the Navy, back in the day.

029 I don't believe you have treasure.

030 I'll prove it! Look, I'll draw you a map.

031 A map to a map. Oh, well, that there is incontrovertible proof. Who am I to contradict you now! I stand corrected.

032 Don't get snooty with me, lad! I've nothing to prove to you.

033 Oh, me father was the keeper of the Eddystone Light There he slept with a mermaid one fine night. And from this union there came three: A porpoise and a porgy and the other was me. Yo ho ho, the wind blows free O for the life of the rooooolling sea. One night as I was trimmin' of the glim, Humming a tune from the evenin' hymn. A voice from the starboard shouted "Ahoy!" And there was me mother, a-sittin' on a buoy. Yo ho ho, the wind blows free O for the life of the rooooolling sea. "Oh what has become of the children three?" Me mother then, she asked of me. One we exhibited as a talking fish, And one we served in a chafing dish. Yo ho ho, the wind blows free O for the life of the rooooolling sea. Then the phosphorus flashed in her seaweed hair. I looked again and me mother wasn't there. But I heard her voice calling back through the night "The devil take the keeper of the Eddystone Light!" Yo ho ho, the wind blows free O for the life of the rooooolling sea.

034 Don't go! I was just getting to the best part!

035 Have ye no appreciation for the art of narrative?

036 Ah, a man can develop a thirst in the salt sea air.

037 If only I could moisten me parched throat, the stories I could tell.

038 I know where there's treasure, and therein lies a tale.

039 See? If you was to go there, ye would find a map to buried piratical treasure.

Answers the question of how he was brave enough to venture out into Lud's Holm in the first place but not enough to rescue Edmund. He's established himself as an ally out there and so Wastrels are not a threat, but that doesn't apply to cultists.

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Nepenthe. chap 03

act one : tacenda

THIS IS AN OC INTEGRATION FOR THE WITCHER, IT IS NOT AN X READER FIC.

— BACK W DA THIRD CHAPTER!! YALL AREADY KNOW JASKY COMING ‼️ WE'VE BEEN WAITING, OR AT LEAST I HAVE ‼️

tw for : Canon Typical violence, Canon typical language, Mentions of blood, Death.

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.

"Love the way you both just sit in the corner and brood."

Says the bard, and I see Geralt roll his eyes, obviously annoyed by the socialite.

"We're here to drink alone."

Geralt says lowly, looking away from the bard, his jaw is clenched as if he wants to say more, and from under the table I let the slightest bit of our boots touch, he nudges his foot back in a slight expression of recognition.

"Good, Yeah.. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, Except... you two."

The bard says, pointing between me and Geralt before taking an uncanny gulp of whatever is in his cup, walking to stand in where Geralt was previously looking to avoid him.

"Come on.. you don't want to keep a man with- bread in his pants waiting.."

He adds, his face contorting awkwardly before taking a seat beside me, and my eyes flicker to Geralts in a call of desperation as the bard requests for your feedback.

"They don't exist."

Geralt sighs, though he keeps a tight lip, his gaze occasionally flickers to me, but never to the bard, when the brunette questions his meaning, geralt continues.

"The creatures in your song."

He adds, his nose scrunching up in distaste as the Bard begins to pick apart Geralt and I's features.

"Ohh fun, The white hair, the yellow eyes, the very.. scary companion and even scarier swords... I know who you are."

I see Geralt stand and begin to leave, and I take a final swig of my drink before leaving it, hot on Geralt's trail.

"You're Witcher's, Aren't you?"

He says, hanging on a pillar before shouting out 'Called it!' and I can feel myself burn inside, I'd gladly take coin to kill a fuck like him.

"A job I've got for you, I beg of you."

A young man says, rushing to the two of us and I find myself standing just slightly behind Geralt, watching just over his shoulder, and I burn my gaze into the bard.

He sheepishly turns away, and walks out of my view and I feel a bit of relief, and turn my attention to the man, listening as he describes some 'Devil' and offers coin.

I can see Geralt mentally bargain, before he raises the price just slightly higher, and it seems the man is willing, Geralt takes the coin and my stare flickers back to the bard, who stares at Geralt with curiosity, like he's avoiding my existence.

"Quite the bargain, Though you've basically robbed the poor lad."

I say, exiting the tavern with Geralt, he knows what I mean and let's out a sigh.

"Though it's no worse than what others do I suppose."

I add, and we snag our horses from the stables, and thank the woman who tended to them, rounding our way out of Posada.

I hiss out a small 'shit' as I hear footsteps grow quick and close, and Geralt picks up immediately, seemingly also annoyed.

"Need a hand? I got two! Each for the devil's horns."

The bard says, He clutches his lute strap which hangs on his right shoulder, and comes between me and Geralt, and I feel an underlying urge to kick his feet from beneath him, the thought of him eating dirt makes me feel a little better.

"Go away."

Geralt says, And persists through the hill up towards your destination.

"I won't be but silent backup."

The bard tries to excuse himself, but I feel the irony bubble up in my chest and come out as a chuckle.

"What a joke."

I comment to myself, and I hear the bard let out a small scoff before speaking again.

"I heard your note and you're right, Maybe real adventures would make better stories, and you two, my good sirs : smell chock-full of them."

The bard says, Gesturing comically to the two of us, I shake my head and give geralt a quick look, and I can see his lips twitch up.

But quickly back down as the bard adds on that he smells Onion, and then theatrically goes on about Death and Destiny, amongst other silly titles.

"It's onion."

Geralt Deadpans, and I let out a small laugh under my breath, and I hear the bard let out a meek 'Right.' before continuing on once more, before spitting out the title I know Geralt hates.

Geralt stops, and sucks in a deep breath in his teeth before turning to the bard.

"Come here."

"—Yeah?"

The bard asks, before contorting around himself as Geralt socks him in his gut, and I feel a bit of relief watching as the bard stumbles, and I give him a sarcastic pat on the back, before continuing with Geralt.

We get closer to our destination and mount our horses, and I feel myself fill with dread the more and more the Bard talks.

"Reading between the lines of the gut punches, id say you have a bit of an image problem."

The bard says, pointing to Geralt as he still hasn't given up on trying to 'Help' Though he's only made this journey heavy on my mind.

"Butcher is right."

Geralt says, and I frown a bit at that comment, he's had yet to tell me of what happened in blaviken that gave him such a 'Title' and only get what has been bounced around taverns-folk.

"Do you mind if I hop up there with you?"

"—Dont touch roach."

Geralt growls, and the bard immediately retracts and puts his eyes on me.

"You, Then?"

"Fuck off."

I hiss, hopping off my horse as Geralt and I tie them to a lone tree next to our path, I roll my eyes as the Bard retells old wives tales as if it's some legendary story.

I follow Geralts tail, just barely behind him as usual, with the heat heavy on my shoulders I pull a small braided cord from my hip bag, and tie my hair up and off my neck, granting an instant relief.

"What are we looking for again?"

"Blessed silence."

Geralt says, hoping the comment would stick, and he squeezes his eyes shut in irritation as the bard continues to chatter.

"Have either of you ever hunted a devil before?"

"Devils don't exist."

We say in unison, and the bard questions what exactly is going on, and Geralt explains once more.

"Sometimes there's monsters, sometimes there's money, rarely both."

"That's the life."

I add, and I feel my whole body jolt as I hear something whisp through the air, Geralt flinches and snarls out a profanity.

"Geralt.. It is a devil."

The bard says, staring into the disturbed shrubbery, and I can just see the silhouette of a horned figure, and when I look to Geralt, the bard begins to ramble before it's shortly cut off.

"Thank the gods."

I sigh, before I follow Geralt slowly, I listen for anything that could give off a location, but it's quiet, uncomfortably so, which is when the beast charges from the tall grass and into Geralt's gut, it's shouting surprises me.

"You talk."

Geralt says, pushing himself from the ground, and the beast charges again, this time Geralt promptly snags it by its horn and whips it around, pinning it to the ground quickly.

"What happened with you? Your mother fuck a goat?"

Is the last thing I hear as ground crunches behind me, and as I whip around I can't even see the assailant clear enough as my vision fades to a deep black.

A memory plays in my head, and I can't fight it, I'm stuck in place watching it happen to myself, I'm not in control of my own body.

I can smell the metallic undertone of blood, its filled with a searing pain over my left eye, my body is tired and I sit with its body in my lap, my knife sunken deep into its ribs, my heart aches as it's warmth fades away, and it's big fierce eyes no longer open, I let out a blood curdling scream in a mix of fury, pain, and victory, and I cannot help but be lost in my emotions amongst my peers, and somehow numb all at once.

The scream shrieks in my ears, ringing, and it fuels the pain in my temples as my eyes flutter open, and I feel myself groan as the blessed silence is broken.

"This is the part where we escape."

— I hope y'all enjoyed this!! I know these chapters are shorter than the first but I tried to make the first chapter very telling of what Kael is like </3

— as usual it isn't proofread so if y'all see Grammer errors defo point em out.

[safyresky]

Just reading the article about fuckin tomothy being like WE PUT THE CHRIST IN CHRISTMAS and lads....I think we've been ROBBED

GHOSTS AND GOBLINS? THE FUCK? I WANT THE GHOSTS AND GOBLINS

GOOD NEWS: last episodes are where the religious bit comes into play. BAD NEWS: CONFUSED with TO MUCH DETAIL? DETAILS ARE SO MUCH FUN? ):

ROBBED, LADS.

[priokskfm]

#MixOfDay #Podcast #Radioshow #LiveDjset M77: X-Press 2 The Monologues Podcast invites producers to mix an hour of their own productions. Follow our Bandcamp for our label releases at https://ift.tt/Vd5UQ3A We are not worthy! A big scalp for us here at Monologues as we invite one of our all-time favourite production outfits to contribute to the series. This '92-'24 retrospective from one of the mightiest names in house features unreleased Gabriels + Usher remix exclusives and a special edit of 'Lazy' exclusive to this mix. No-one does chunky house music better and we're delighted to have these history-makers be part of our long-running series. Strap yourself in for a tonking hour. *How would you describe your sound?* Our sound is for the dancefloor. Pure and simple. Whether that's the back room of a pub in Colnbrook or a huge mega tech rave in Mexico. *What and who inspires you and influences your sound?* I guess it's all sorts of music that's influenced us over the years. Going way back to tribal music through Blues, jazz, rnb, reggae, soul, disco, house, techno, classical etc etc. We always go back to early house stuff if we're ever stuck in the studio. Just get back to the raw basics and go again! *Can you tell us a little about this mix and what it means to you?* This '92224' mix is basically a snap shot of some of the stuff that we, with Ashley for a huge chunk of it, have done or been involved with over the years. From our very first production together ('Muzik Xpress') bang up to the minute with our soon-to-be-released Gabriels remix. Getting this mix together has made me appreciate just how much we've done and makes me feel very proud of what 3 lads from west London have achieved musically. Listening back to it there's definitely a thread that runs through this 32 years of music and I think that hopefully, you can hear those answers to the first 2 questions contained within. 1 X-Press 2 - Muzik Xpress (Double D Mix.) Junior Boys Own 2 Chugger - Thank You (X-Press 2 Mix. Back 2 Basics 3 X-Press 2 - Reign Of Drums. Skint 4 JIM - Phoenix (X-Press 2 On Fire Dub.) Vicious Charm 5 David Kitt - Till The End (X-Press 2 12 Inch Remix) Re:warm 6 Gabriels - Love And Hate In A Different Time (X-Press 2 Love And Honesty Remix.) Atlas Artists/Parlophone 7 Kelis - Milkshake (X-Press 2 Triple Thick Mix) Virgin 8 D*Note - The Garden Of Earthly Delights (Ballistic Barrio Boom) Dorado 9 Golden Boy With Miss Kittin -Rippin Kittin (X-Press 2 Late Night Homicide Vocal.) Illustrious 10 Usher - Burn (X-Press 2 Unreleased Rave N Bleep Remix.) Unreleased 11 Green Velvet - Answering Machine (X-Press 2 Direct Line Mix.) F-111 12 X-Press 2 - Smoke Machine. Skint 13 X-Press 2 feat. Rob Harvey - Kill 100. Skint 14 X-Press 2 - Moov. Acid Jazz 15 X-Press 2 - Phasing You Out (David Holmes Remix.) Acid Jazz 16 X-Press 2 - Zeven. Acid Jazz 17 X-Press 2 - Muzik Xpress. Junior Boys Own 18 X-Press 2 feat. David Byrne - Lazy. Skint www.priokskfm.online https://ift.tt/RTt6ACo

[verybiasedfootball]

That's it lads. We've been robbed.

[limetameta]

we've really been robbed that none of these freaks (homunculi, derogatory) can't psychologically fuck with the characters. like sure they can mentally torture them by taking hostages of the people they love and holding their safety over their heads but maybe i just want someone to hypnotise riza so she keeps reliving her worst memories aka amp up that child ptsd and that adult ptsd and the berthold hawkeye chronicles.

what i'm getting at here is that hp has really spoiled me. nothing scarier than someone pulling you inside your own head and saying IT'S MORBING TIME LADS and slapping you in the face with all of your shaped-like-a-fish trauma.

ok but someone getting inside kimblee's head and he's just like: i'm actually a very tame individual on the whole trauma front. had a nice childhood. good time in the academy. enjoyed ishval. no trauma here.

someone just points to a door he's locked. ''what's in there?''

''none of your business!!'' kimblee says, very rudely. very curt. his hair's electrified like that of a cat's suddenly. ''you should leave me alone now!''

it's his fear of cockroaches. you can hear millions of little feetsies running around and trying to crawl from under the door. but he stuffed a bunch of towels under the door to keep them inside.

[witchofthesouls]

Okay but imagine: Netflix makes a deal with Hasbro again to create two Transformers shows set in the Aligned Continuity that ignores RID 2015 with the first one being called Transformers NEST, centering on an adult Miko Nakadai who becomes a member of NEST which is an alliance of humans and Decepticons who have defected as they face off against Shockwave , Tarn or Overlord and the other show is called Transformers: Lost Light which is a loose adaptation of the comic focusing on Hot Rod, Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus, Arcee, Bulkhead, etc as they must find the Knights Of Cybertron.

Nghhhh, I need this. I would have loved to see a TFP sequel with kids as adults in their careers with the background of an Earth-Cybertron relationship.

I think NEST would be under the UN since it would be an international and interplanetary alliance. It would be interesting to see how it would do public opinion on aliens and the alliance.

Miko would definitely still have the Apex Armor. Ohhh, to be a fly on that wall when that was brought up. 

The Return of Soundwave from the Shadowzone. Under key and working with others in the NEST, begrudgingly.

Soundwave and Miko friendship. Soundwave and Miko friendship!!

“Hey, I kicked your ass once!” < ? -cue Raf’s face- > 

It would be a nice stage to buildup the cultural events/mores from Cybertron and how it was shaped under Autobot and Decepticon fractions.

I think Tarn or Overlord would be the best bet with the antagonist: one is a zealot of the Decepticon cause with his own band of psychotic killers that hunt down traitors and the other is a beyond sadistic Phase Sixer, both have a Raging Boner for Megatron, but the Big Bad: Quintessons

And the tensions with Autobots, Decepticons, Neutrals, and the overlaps between them would be chef’s kiss

The Transformers: Lost Light adaptation would either be amazing or fall flat on its execution. But, mannnnnn, the sheer ton of lore it could encompass! And I say fall flat because the MTMTE/IDW had a lot of things. Not just social-political issues, class warfare, psychological issues and the impact of war for multiple generations, and ideolgical conflict but it spanned for years, so it’s a lot to condense down.

TFP had some nice foundation but it pulled back on what was brewing within the Golden Age and the Fall of Cybertron. Implications and some side commentary but nothing in the viewer’s face.

[sabugabr]

"The Green Knight" is visually stunning, but it kinda missed the point — and that's a good thing (4/5)

Continuing from part 3....

THE COLORS

As I said before, in this story, color matters. It's everywhere. Both the movie and the poem seem obcessed with it. And it can be interpreted in different ways. I'll go on about how I saw it.

So, there are four important colors in the movie: Green, Red, Yellow and Blue. You can see them highlighted everywhere.

But first things first. Let's start with Green

The very first association the film does with Green is to lighten Morgan. It's the only time we've seen green since the beginning of the film, which until then has only been shown in grey, blue, brown and yellow. Plastically speaking, it's a good way to show us right away that Morgan is somehow connected to the Green Knight (in fact, she's the one who summons him), and through the green girdle she gives Gawain, green comes to symbolize her as well.

In the poem, green is only associated with the Green Knight himself, and is generally related to the wild, the natural, to fertility, to the unknown and (important) to death. Since the film promptly adds Morgan to this element (and in the poem it is indeed revealed at the end that Morgan was behind that all — even thought she isn't Gawain's mother there), we can associate it to a hint of paganism. She's described to be considered a witch, she is Morgan le Fay, and the Green Knight can easily be associated with the GreenMan, a popular folk figure. This can mean they are all, in a way, fairy-like.

It can also represent everything that goes on in the "unknown", in the fantastic. In the poem, during Gawain's stay in the Lord's house, several parallels occur between the Lord's hunting and his wife's seduction. In this parallel, Gawain can be associated with the fox his host brings home on the third day. In the film, Gawain shares a deeper connection to the fox, but their parallel is not missed. On the contraire, it's made very clear.

The greenish tapestry shows the fox

While the brownish one shows Gawain (whitewashed, but that might be another point of the movie — you can read a take on this in this beautiful article).

Actually, it's the exact same tapestry — but inverted. And the analogy of the mystic world being an inversion of the real world is quite recurrent.

Likewise, it can be noted that while the Green Knight in his "fantastical" form is, well, green, when he appears as the Lord (both in the movie and in the poem) he is described as being "beaver," or reddish-brown, in color. So the lines between what's real and what's fantastic can be designed by green and brown.

This can even open a margin for interpreting all the scenes in green as being somewhat fantastic, as if Gawain had entered another realm upon leaving the brown and gray city. When robbed by the lad, Gawain asks him if there really is a Green Chapel, to which the boy replies "you're in it". The Green Chapel is the forest itself.

But thanks to the girdle, green can also represents Gawain and Morgan's motherly connetion. The King says that Gawain was queefed from her womb. Therefore, green here can mean majorly life. This is strengthened by the Lady later, when she delivers a full monologue solemnly about colors.

"Red is the color of lust, but green is what red leaves behind. In heart, in womb" she says.

This is interesting, because in the poem, Red means quite the opposite. Gawain is shown to favour Red, and is often portrayed in this color.

"Red and gold become Gawain's colors in the poem, in contrast the Green Knight's green and gold. Because it is the color of blood, red represents life, and it also symbolizes love, the passion of Christ, and the inspiration given by the Holy Spirit." (source)

Red symbolizes Christianity, while green can be associated with anti-Christianity. In the poem, for example, the Lady wears a green gown in her seductions, symbolizing lust. Green would commonly be associated with the Devil, as portayed in several paintings and illuminations.

And if you look at it from this point of view only, there's even a scene in the movie where Merlin (the King's adviser) is lighten in Red.

So perhaps is possible to make the correlation Red X Green = Merlin X Morgan = Christianity X Paganism, reinforced by the ideal of King Arthur as the First Christian King. Maybe. But I don't think that's only it.

As said in the monologue before, the Lady describes lust as being red, and warns Gawain about the persue of it. This thinking is in line with a traditional British folk ballad, "Maiden’s Lament" (or "Let No Man Steal Your Thyme", you can hear it being beautifully sung by Carey Mulligan and Michael Sheen here) that warned young girls of the dangers of passing passions:

"But I refused the red Rose Bush

And gained the Willow Tree

That all the world may plainly see

How my love slighted me"

In this song, after being abandoned by the gardener, the lyrical self refuses the (red) rose bush (lust), and gains the willow tree (green). This can mean both despair, that she was left with a child (for the whole world to see the result of her passionate love), but can also mean wisdom. She knows better now. So green can also mean temperance.

And since in film this clear association of green with the womb is made (where red was lust, etc etc), I ended up remembering the other situation where the womb is mentioned — in Gawain's conversation with the King. But there, womb opposes blood. And whenever red appears on the scene, it appears in blood.

This becomes clearer during the first quest, "A Kindness", where one scene stands out to me. While Gawain is crossing a battle field, he first encounters the lad pillaging the bodies, and looking for his two dead brothers. Talking to Gawain, he tells how he heard that the King single-handedly killed 960 men (which is based on a true Arthurian story). This reflects the King's speech on the last Christmas Eve, in which he celebrated "a land shaped by your hands"; “You have lain those same hands on our Saxon brethren," he said, "who now in your shadow bow their heads like babes. Peace, peace, you have brought this kingdom.” In the ravaged field surrounded by forest, Gawain sees with his own eyes the peace the King referred to.

I won't even get to the colonialist implications that become clear when we see Arthur, a white man, talking about conquest with his nephew, played by an actor of Indian descent. This is further explored and broken down in the article I mentioned above, please read on, it's beautiful.

So looking at this bias, red is also a symbol of violence. It took me a while to understand, but that might explain the red scene when Gawain jumps into the lake to retrieve Winifred's head.

He dives into the redness, and comes out of it haunted. Her story was a story of violence, and her head was buried in it. Gawain rescues her from this state of violence, and when he returns the head to the body on the bed, the light turns white, perhaps symbolizing peace and revelation.

Thinking like this, in my interpretation, the Merlin scene can mean a reminder of this violence greeted by the King in his speech, as he shakes his head as soon as the red light goes out, and it is only with this denial that the King invites the Green Knight in. This change of ways, to me, is what the King meant when he chose Gawain to sit beside him. Gawain was not red like the other knights in the hall, like the own King who was shown to be in decay — like the whole realm, as we can see in the ruins about the desolate landscape that surrounds the city. Unlike the poem, in which Gawain chooses red to adorn himself, in the film the color that completes the yellow of his cape is the green girdle he wears around his waist. He was fresh just out of the womb. He was "green".

But he does wears the yellow cape, that equals the golden of the poem. In the poem, Golden can be easily associated with virtue, and the impecable moral compass Gawain already possess. Golden is the ideal he wishes to achieve. In a way, the gold in the poem can act as a counterpart to green, as a conflict between chivalry values and human nature.

This becomes clearer when Gawain realizes that the Green Knight also adorns himself in gold. This may translate to the way that, even though he speaks rudimentary, the Lord was the most chivalrous of hosts. At the end of the poem, Gawain carries a green belt with him to always remind himself that human nature need not be contrary to the values mentioned above. Because he, as the Green Knight, had a bit of both.

In the movie, it appears to be, once again, quite the opposite. The way I saw it, yellow represented his humanity. In the very first scene, where we meet him fully naked, we watch as he dresses up the cape. He's wearing it as he does the most human things, like kissing and drinking and fighting. And at the same time, yellow are the scenes that represent his greatest internal conflicts, such as his confrontation with the fox, or his escape from the Chapel, when he confronts himself. In a way, I see it as if the color yellow represents humanity, and the yellow lighting represents internal conflict.

The only times he appears without wearing the color is at the end, when we see the montage of what could have been (and I'll get into that later) — where, by abandoning yellow, he divests himself of his humanity.

Now, Blue was a tricky one. And this one is based purely on my personal interpretation of the movie, for there's no big deal about Blue in the original poem. For what I learned, Blue held a lot of associations to the Virgin Mary from the 12th century in Europe, and could also represent royalty. But the way I saw it, in the movie blue can perhaps mean illusion. In better words, blue represents what's hidden. Is the color mostly dressed by the Lady. Is also the color that lightens the night scene where Gawain contemplates the Green Knight, and the scenes in Winifred's house — and after having returned the head, as I mentioned before, the light turns white. What was hidden becomes revealed.

The same way, when Gawain meets the Lady, he sees the face of Else, in the form of a noble woman he could marry (since he had previously refused Else's honest love because of their different social classes). The Lady appears, then, as an ideal version. But, as he soon discovers, she has none of Else's warmth and truth.

She also offers him a girdle identical to the one his mother had given him, and in a desperate attempt to regain the feeling of love and protection that the original girdle brought him, Gawain accepts what he later discovers to be nothing he sought. On the contrary, deluded by the illusion of this protection, he is left in a worse state than before.

There's also often this greenish blue (bluish green?) color in scene, a kind of turquoise. It's the color of Gawain's quarters in the Lord's house, and also the color in which the Green Knight appears to him in his visions. The way I saw it, the turquoise is representative of all the times where the mystic, the unknown, could be considered dangerous. When the Green Knight first appears he looks more bluish then green, while by the end of the movie, he's glowing in yellowish green. Gawain sees him in turquoise and gets apprehensive and scared, just the same as when we wakes up in the Lord's house's bedroom.

And finally, white. I had to think about white a bit, because as we find out at the end, the creepy old woman in white was actually Morgan, and Winifred's ghost wore white. Gawain's fiancée in the vision he has at the end was also all in white, and one of the released images that ended up not featuring in the film shows the Lady wearing a beautiful white dress. This conflicted with my previous association of white with peace. But then I realized that in this movie there is a difference between color and lighting.

So, to my understanding, the white in this film also represents a form of deceit, in this case, blindness. Morgan literally blindfolds herself with a white cloth, Winifred's outfit blinds Gawain to the reality of the young woman's plight, and the elizabethan bride we see at the end can mean as much purity (which also applies to Winifred before she tells her story) as also the fragility of his idea of love and marriage in this scenery.

If you pay attention, the lighting in this scene has none of the warm white light in Winifred's house. On the contrary, it is cool and bluish. As well as the clothes of the nobles around her, and the blue adornments on her face.

The same can be applied to bluish green, greenish blue, yellowish green... In the end, a color changes completely depending on the lighting, and this movie uses it well.

And this leads us to... (part 5 >)

[ladycibia]

i've been watching a playthrough of the witcher 3, and we've finally finished the 'a poet under pressure' quest! dandelion is an absolute mad lad, trying to rob people dressed like that. he doesn't sacrifice fashion for anything, huh?

He also went to prison dressed up like that

[bae-leth]

APPARENTLY HE CAN'T BE A DANCER AND I AM??? SEETHING????? WHAT IS THIS. WHY DO THEY DENY HIM HIS BIRTHRIGHT I???? WE'VE BEEN ROBBED???? HOW DO YOU NOT LET THE PROTAGONIST GET ACCESS TO THE CLASSES THE STUDENTS CAN DJSBS WHAT???

I was going to... have a whole team of dancers. Including Byleth. But it seems like.... I can't do that anymore.... /sobs in bylad being unable to dance/

new headcanon: he can't be a dancer because he has two left feet.

okay but apart from the Blue Lions lads, I think Ferdie as a dancer would be so hilarious omg.... he tries to outdo Edelgard's dancing by becoming a dancer himself. absolutely stellar

and PLEASE PLEASE let the lords dance... even in timeskip. because I NEED to see Dimitri squaring up against Edelgard, except she's in her really intimidating Emperor outfit, while he's just dancing at her.

[witchofthesouls]

My mind keeps drifting back to humans and dark energon because it's a very interesting topic and they had the gal to just gloss over it?? Could you imagine that instead of making the humans ill, it changes them in some way? I can envision some of them going all "my precious" over some dark energon they found and becoming feral when the cybertronians try to take it/touch/go near. (Idk, just rambling)

Preach, anon.

I think it would have been interesting if MECH had utilized Dark Energon on C.Y.L.A.S. It would make sense how Silas managed to fuse with Breakdown's corpse as well as the impulsive execution of his old group.

Sure, it showcases his lack of remorse and his sense of superiority, but he was a well-organized and intelligent antagonist.

Leland Bishop was once a Colonel of Special Tactics and was discharged for his ambitious weaponry concepts. He was charismatic enough to pull former members of Special Tactics to defect and join MECH, his very own terrorist group.

It was really short-sighted of him to kill the people that could render him medical aid and mechanical maintenance, especially with his android/cyborg existence. Sorry, Jasper Hospital doesn't have alien techs in their files, nor do the Decepticons give a flying frag on squishy physiology.

And then, combine it with some body horror elements of leftover spare parts from the surgery and Dark Energon exposure, and there would be some remains of MECH gunning after their old boss and traitor.

Optimus once said MECH were Decepticons in human skin, so the birth of Prime's equivalent of the Decepticon Justice Division?