#wild and this thing plus stasis

[majorproblems77]

Oh yes! kinda obsessed with that handle I love it.

Also please feel free to be excited about wild's Sword cause I am too! Like dnkshalrkesgr - so good there's so much there

This series is wonderful and I love it

Wild’s new weapon, the horseman’s pick!!

….Since wild only just got an ‘official’ sword in the recent comics, it was kinda hard but also very easy to design this???? I could go on a rant about his new sword dude— skahskbd

@majorproblems77 only sky and hyrule left!!

[azumasoroshi]

oh of course izaya is an oscar wilde fan. he would definitely use this as his bio for his private discord/twitter account

pulls out the importance of being earnest and the picture of dorian gray. time to analyze these from the psychological/literary perspective of izaya lets go baby (he has his own category)

edit check tags and rbs for some actual analysis stuff lmAOo

[transformers-spike]

It's reader just trina help herd the gang of vehicons into a stable life but accidentally some of the fall hard and (i need tension) some of them are pretty normal, still attached latching on for mentor/parental figure.

bonus when shit goes south and OP is like ok lets call the wild card and reader just spawns with a gang of vehicons like arachnid with the insecticons

maybe reader would have taught them a thing or two so they don't consistently get hurts and die.

alternatively when the steves actually are removed from stressful factors and have encouraging behavior, they become a pretty powerful gang

OHH I LIKE THE IDEA OF THEM DOING WAY BETTER OTHERWISE If I remember correctly, in the show there are scenes where they seem to go down way too easily and don't try to get up again. Thus, there's a chance they're just playing dead/in stasis. They're obviously overworked and don't fully care about the Decepticon cause - they just want to survive - plus, maybe they don't know how life outside of it is like if they were created specifically for this war The reader is their ringleader purely because the vehicons discovered freedom at their human's side. And we all know through the power or love and friendship everything is possible

[quietbluejay]

I do love when I pick up on something the writer is putting down, absolutely confirmed that the reason Guilliman has gotten so autocratic/micromanaging is because this is essentially a trauma response from his first experiences waking up in 40k (plus also the Fulgrim thing) and especially his encounter with the 40k Emperor

it's very, you know, trying to assert control over situations because he he feels like control over his life was taken away from him and um tbh I get the feeling that something was going on with his mind while he was in stasis as well though I might be completely off, this is just wild spitballing here

also, I really get the feeling that his thoughts/feelings on Yvraine are very much tied up into this and I can't believe it but this might be the trigger that might make me see a way I could ship it (in a messed up toxic way) because for all that it looks like from the outside that the Ynnari are running around doing whatever for Guilliman, I feel like he actually sees her as being the one in their relationship with the power, and that he's got this huge debt hanging over his head, and that she makes him deeply uncomfortable, not just in reminding him of the whole circumstances of his coma and awakening, but just as a matter of who she is and what she represents.

[a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan]

I got Tears of the Kingdom for Christmas and boy howdy this is so fucking fun. I might get around to writing some stuff about it but right now I just want to keep playing. I was right when I predicted months ago that it would consume all of my free time (and eat a bit into my not-free time).

Related, although I originally planned for my WIP Linked Universe fanfic Descent to Darkness to be a sequel to my previous fic (Oops! All Links), after playing TotK, I’m thinking of using the TotK iteration of Wild instead of BotW. His character is a bit more fleshed out, he’s had more experiences, and at the most basic level, his new powers are fucking sick. With the exception of maybe stasis, this new kit of abilities is cooler and more fun to play with, so it would probably be more fun to write.

Thing is, I would need to decouple OAL and DtD. What I’ve already written has barely anything to do with OAL though, so that’s an easy fix. Plus then it needs no explanation that you don’t need to read all 87k words of OAL to understand and enjoy DtD. I mean we’ll see how I feel when I’m ready to sit down and write more, because like I said, I just want to keep playing the game.

[frostbittenfemme]

A dimly lit corridor welcomes Wild as she enters the facility; the facility itself is quiet, infact it’s too quiet. All the femme can hear is humming of the lights above and her pedesteps as they echo throughout.

The lack of security still puzzles her, especially considering Flatline is here. She has no doubt he has some tricks and traps lying in wait for her and all she can do it hope she can figure them out before things get too dire.

The corridor comes to a fork, prompting Wild to come to a halt. With her pedesteps no longer echoing she’s able to hear a new sound cutting through the quiet. Wild tilts her helm trying to ascertain where it’s coming from . It’s hard to pinpoint exactly where the noise is coming from, but to her it sounds like metal scraping as it’s being dragged.

Maybe it’s some lab workers moving those stasis pods. She thinks to herself as she peeks around the left corner of the fork; spotting only a door. She turns her helm to the right side and once again only spots a door.

Wild lets out a noise of confusion. “Maybe they’re in one of the adjoining rooms?” She speaks to herself, walking over to the door on the right hand side.

As she reaches the door yet another new sound makes its entrance; loud thudding. Wild’s optics go wide in realisation; she’s being followed. Backing herself up until she’s flush against the door and cornered, Wild’s grip on her axes tightens.

Thumping pedesteps grow louder and louder as their source turns the corner in the fork of the corridor. A huge tall and bulky black mech comes into view, dragging a humungous and hefty battle axe behind him, it’s blade scraping at the floor with each movement.

The mech comes to a standstill, lifting up his battle axe in his own preparation.  He has no visible face plating nor any visible optics which means Wild’s not going to be able to rely on expressions to call this mechs bluff. On the plus side it looks like Wild will be getting that fight she so desperately wanted after all.

A loud gravelly rumble comes from the behemoth; Wild’s only warning before it charges at her.Before Wild knows it the mech comes to a stop in front of her, slamming his battle axe down. Wild swerves out the way, narrowly avoiding the weapon as she steps around the giant before bolting away to make some distance between her and the hulking mech.

“I see you’ve met Executioner.” Flatline’s announces over loudspeaker with a cackle.

Really? The giant emotionless mech with a big aft battle axe is called Executioner?

Executioner waste no time picking his axe back up and turning around, taking chase after Wild. His axe swings back and forth, causing Wild to duck down with each swing else she lose her helm.

The giant mech swings his axe towards Wild, letting it go with no warning. Once again Wild ducks down to dodge only knowing she’s safe when she hears the massive blade embed itself into the wall behind her. She looks away for a moment to assess the damage, not realising she’s gave the mech just the window he needs.

Before she knows it Executioner lands a swift blow of his fist to the femme’s abdominal plating, the force of which sends Wild crashing through the wall beside her and into the next room.

Well that fragging hurt.

Just as the femme gets back on her pedes Executioner lands yet another blow, sending her careening across the room. Wild lets of a litany of grunts as she ragdolls about. Her axes get thrown across the room despite Wild’s tight grip on them.

Slag he’s fast. Executioners pedesteps thump as he approaches, leaving his axe behind as he remains focused on Wild.

Alright then, we’re doing his hand to hand and as long as that axe stays lodged in the wall I’ll be fine. She thinks to herself, once again pushing herself to her pedes.

A stamp of her pede sends a path of ice towards the partly demolished wall, climbing into the cracks and opening as it freezes over sealing the pair of warriors in the smaller room. There’s not much room to manoeuvre, but that’s an advantage Wild is going to need. Her lipplates form into a twisted grin. “Let’s settle this.”

Refusing to give Executioner time to react, Wild charges at him, giving him a swift kick in between his legs before raking her heels down the back of one of his thick legs. Executioner falls to his knees with a pained snarl only for it to be silences as Wild uppercuts the mech straight in his bottom jaw.

Executioner snatches the small femme by the helm, fist squeezing her tight as he returns to standing. For a moment she flails about, using her legs to discern just where the large mech is before promptly booting him in his concealed face. The large mech tosses her away like she’s nothing and the small femme can do nothing but roll into her movement if she has an hope of recovering in time for his next move.

Just as Wild goes to stand Executioner charges at her. Upon impact Wild doesn’t recoil, she uses it to her Wild grabs a hold of Executioner and claws at him while he tries to throw her off, when he does Wild rolls into it and sweeps his legs from beneath him, giving her time to launch herself on top of him and wrap her thighs around his helm. Unable to see Executioner flails about, ramming into walls to try and throw Wild off, all the while the lock her thighs have on the mech gets tighter and tighter.

The femme lets out a growl, using all of her weight as she leans in the opposite way to which the mech is moving. She repeats this over and over, ignoring the throbbing pains filling her frame as he rams her into the wall repeatedly until she manages to topple the giant with an almighty crash.

Even then she refuses to let go, the lock her thighs have on his helm squeezing like an ever tightening vice. With a snarled shout Wild pulls herself away from Executioner, ripping wiring and fuel lines from their housing amongst the giants neck plating. Energon sprays upwards painting the outlier’s bottom half a bright, but even then Wild doesn’t stop not until Executioner’s helm is completely ripped from his body. Sparks continue to fire as wiring short circuits and for a while Wild simply just lies on the floor, helm still vice gripped between her legs.

For a moment she just contemplates what the frag just happened, but now she understands why this place has no guards. She can’t help but wonder what else Flatline has in store for her.

Finally releasing the helm from between her legs, Wild kicks Executioner’s dead weight off from on top of her. Wincing as she gets up the femme heads over to where her axes lie, retrieving them for what she expects will be another battle. She peers over at the decapitated body in the middle of the room and lets out a huff. “Executioner? More like executed.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to offline me Flatline!” She yells, melting the ice blocking her path. Wild takes it slow, heading back to the fork in the corridor. A beep followed by locks deactivating pulls her attention to one of the doors from earlier.

Guess we’re going this way. Axes in her servos, the femme heads to the door.“What’s behind this door then?” She asks herself.

Only one way to find out.

[queen-lich-dumb-bitch]

My love for Destiny 2 has been reinvigorated lately so I wanted to do a list of favored weapons to feed the hyperfixation demon as well as present some cool build ideas for people to try. So enjoy! :) (Note that I am an avid Warlock main, so all of these builds will be from a Warlock perspective.) [Also, all of these weapons require practice and time. The amount of success you have is proportional to how much effort you put into getting used to these and what you want to do with them.]

Top 15 Exotic Weapons I Use

Wish-Ender: My baby. My child. My love. I have over 100,000 kills with this weapon over the course of D2’s history. It’s the true all-purpose and it got me my Luna’s Howl, my Not Forgotten, and my Unbroken Title. I use it as a combo weapon to inform decisions and counter snipers and campers.

Ruinous Effigy: Truly a riot to use when you put in the time to make it work. Pairs really well with most void builds, but I find it really shines when paired with Astrocyte Verse.

Tommy’s Matchbook: This weapon is a true gift and I cannot stress enough my love for this weapon. Warlock Void runs wild with this thing as long as you stack into reload. I recommend Secant Filaments too for on-demand Devour.

Touch of Malice: One of my OG obsessions from D1. Same build as Tommy’s but built much more for lurking and long range engagements. You can surprise a lot of people with how good this thing is at outdueling people. Pairs well with an SMG.

Cryosthesia 77K: Still surprised people don’t use this as much as they should. I paid this with my main: Shadebinder. This and Osmiomancy Gloves go hard.

Outbreak Perfected: Another sleeper that really should get more use. Goes with really anything, but specing into spreading damage around and improving Outbreak’s already nasty stats are ideal here.

Symmetry: I’m not gonna say this is a top pick, but it can still two tap if you set it up, it’s a really good feeling weapon, and it can surprise people. Arc builds pair well and it’s good at shutting down snipers.

Trespasser: People sleep on sidearms and it really shows. Trespasser slays in close combat and is really good at chaining kills together. Strangely, Stasis is really good here.

Wicked Implement: I’m a Stasis main, so this scout really vibes with me. It activates Iceflare bolts if you freeze something, so getting anything going with this bad boy takes little to no effort.

Collective Obligation: I think people realize at this point that I like off meta choices and CO is no different. Warlock works well here because Warlock Void can get access to all three Void debuffs without much effort plus you can keep reprocing Devour with each kill which keeps refilling the mag.

Verglas Curve: This exotic really requires practice and forethought, but it can really put in work if you build into it. Verglas excels at giving you cover when you need it and synergizing with your Stasis abilities and subclass.

Conditional Finality: A Super killer. Pairs well with both Solar and Stasis, but this functions really well to help clear your plate and give you time to breathe as you’re chugging through combatants.

Duality: No real build ideas. Just a really functional weapon that people don’t use enough. A very strong shotgun that has great range and doesn’t give you free kills.

Final Warning: I was surprised by this weapon, but once you know how it functions, Strand builds really vibe with this thing. Plus it’s design is really cool.

Centrifuse: This auto really shines this season, but I can definitely see this thing still being good in the future. Getaway Artist really vibes hard with this gun and to be continually amplified makes this thing fairly consistent and allows you to be the zoomies guardian you’ve always wanted to be.

[elisaenglish]

The Erotics of Restraint

“I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.”

-Anaïs Nin, Under a Glass Bell-

Juxtaposition might suggest that ours is a love in contraflow to forevering, a stark inflection of the norm, expert in going nowhere. Suppressionist thinking holds a certain line, you could surmise. But conflating a life of stillness with a life of stasis doesn’t account for the vitality of motion inside.

Admittedly, it’s a quiet phenomenon. An ordinance of self-control, even. However, not a synonym for absence by any stretch. The dual narrative has an essential premise, after all; and to presuppose that externalisation is the only means by which we may do this dance is to overlook the standard by which the artist comes to art—or the cohesion found therein. Run-on sentences do possess a kind of charm. One to which I’m rather partial.

But what of him? Or you, I suppose, in apostrophised form?

There’s my name, for one. That “romance of stones” which dallies close to epiphanic truth. Revealed, I am but clothed in thoughts. No vampire’s call, though I am in the veins. And I don’t fear, don’t feel anything aghast—there’s no betrayal in the pulse. As Anaïs Nin asserts in Je suis le plus malade des Surrealistes:

“I feel a fatigue of the tongue seeking to utter impossible things until it twists itself into a knot and chokes me. I feel a fatigue at this mass of nerves seeking to uphold a world that is falling apart. I feel a fatigue at feeling, at the fervour of my dreams, the fever of my thought, the intensity of my hallucinations. A fatigue at the sufferings of others and my own. I feel my own blood thundering inside of me, I feel the horror of falling into abysms. But you and I would always fall together and I would not be afraid. We would fall into abysms, but you would carry your phosphorescences to the very bottom of the abysms. We could fall together and ascend together, far into space. I was always exhausted by my dreams, not because of the dreams, but because of the fear of not being able to return. I do not need to return. I will find you everywhere. You alone can go wherever I go, into the same mysterious regions. You too know the language of the nerves. You will always know what I am saying even if I do not.”

This is the wild ride of heart and intimation. This is the dark that exists, and knows. My mise-en-page. My prose passion stripped to its own syllabic thrust. It’s that beat again, recurring.

Haunted? Scarred? Done and done. Destruction? Death? You think I haven’t wrecked myself, corralled a resurrection? Or as Nin writes, “There are worlds deeper down, each time we sink and are destroyed, there are deeper worlds beneath which we only reach by dying.”

And by living, wanting. Simultaneity rolls on through. We’re somewhere between beautiful and damned. The eyes reach. Lips. Exemplified, I think, when Sierra DeMulder writes in her own poetic storm:

“When the apocalypse comes and all the windows are shattered and the car tyres have melted into the pavement, once all the schools and hospitals and skyscrapers have folded in on themselves and the last street lamp has wilted like a starving flower,

I will still want to fuck you.”

Still—and always. Psychological means spice up the how. Everything’s on fire—and no, I’m not afraid. Because I would, I’d care. See, italics spill a promise; ignite a million neurons while I’m intertext, composed. Conversely aching. All rebuilt. To pull you in. To simply say, “When the apocalypse does come, I will.”

[2dkapsddr]

March 8th, 2024 - Arcaea, vivid/stasis, PIU 2023 PHOENIX, StepManiaX, Music Diver

IT'S THE DAY!!! MASSIVE DAY IN RHYTHM GAMING!!! so much good stuff, so let's start with the first one chronologically: arcaea first thing in the morning!!! played all the free eternal charts (except sayonara hatsukoi and innocence, oops) and they're actually quite fun! not as gimmicky as beyonds, which is either a plus or minus depending on a song (for the songs it was chosen? a plus, i'd say)

this score barrage also includes a PM on Suomi (ETR-8+, MAX-12) as my very first new-Eternal-diff PM (ergo, ETR PM #1), a new FR on Clotho and the Stargazer [ETR-8+], and a 9 PM i've been chasing since forever ago... Anökumene (FTR-9, MAX-28) as FTR PM #20!!! just out here winning all aroundd

i also... *may* have went a little overboard with my spending as you'll see here. i saw a sale was on and i went for it completely, dropping some savings on memories and getting all the story packs i had missed so far (i got black fate and adverse prelude first for whatever reason, so i was completely locked out of the story until i bought the other three LMFAO). also, i got a TON of collab packs because GOD do these have bangers. so excited to play themmmmm

but wait! it gets better!!! cheryl was talking about how huge a day this was gonna be for rhythm games, and she was right as hell because it wasn't just arcaea's 7th anniversary! it was VIVID/STASIS 1ST (full release) ANNIVERSARY AND 3.0 UPDATE!!!!! NOW WITH SO MUCH AMAZING CONTENT!!!!! i didn't want to go too deep into it since i skipped through the last few episodes of chapter 2 for the tournament (needed the boss songs), but i played the free songs offered (spoiler free thankfully, maybe i'll wait until the spoiler period of a week is over until i can play the boss songs).

back on topic though, the first thing i saw in the update was Terabyte Connection ENCORE 15. "insane," i thought. i assumed i wouldn't get it. but then i got a 3 great FC, and then i thought "hoooly shit this might actually be doable." i grinded it for like 20-30 minutes, losing stamina by the minute, until...

it HAPPENED!!! my nerves and heart rate were at their peak, struggling to comprehend how i did that while also still trying to maintain composure for the ending. but as soon as those 4 holds hit... i knew i had it. TERABYTE CONNECTION ENCORE 15: ALLLLL CRITICALLL!!!!! MY FIRST 15 AC!!!!! (i dunno if that means anything since i've observed difficulty inflation to be a growing problem in v/s lately, but i'll take it!!)

also played a few other story songs after skipping through all the story episodes to catch up with them later! sightread AC on UTF and a 2nd attempt flag on Singularity...

and now that that's through, it's ARCADE DAY!!! was slightly delayed due to Kung Fu Panda 4, but it happened!! and i met up with a friend for it!!! sooo here's my barrage of SMX and PIU scores from the rest of the day!!!

took a break from dance gamin' to hang around the mall with said friend, where i played a bit more of my new Arcaea DLC with a sightread and goofy flop ending on INTERNET YAMERO!!!

we returned to the mall promptly and continued playing dance games, though we also stopped to play music diver versus (since i really wanted to play hito mania on it) and got Destroyed by the extreme chart (ouch)

back to dance games! nothing too notable except for an FC on Beautiful Man Wild 21 (not 5-star tho smh), a clear on ESM S20, and an SSS on Follow Me S17 i guess? (but i can still do better...)

[eosofspades]

okay. first half of lightfall complete!! done for the day because my brain is frying and its almost midnight but MAN I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. HELLO

spoilers below

GHOST IS BACK!!!!!! THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE ENTIRE GAME ALWAYS. GHOST I MISSED YOU SO MUCH

the intro cutscenes FUCK oh my god?? i was NOT expecting the traveler's attack / the slicening to be literally the FIRST CUTSCENE?? INCREDIBLE. couldnt play the first mission properly bc my hands were shaking i was so hyped up ghsjdnfv

WHY DOES THE WITNESS JUST TAKE THE BEAM FULL FORCE. WHAT THE FUCK MAN

the tormentors are FUCKING TERRIFYING. I WAS SO SCARED. LIKE THAT GROWLING NOISE RIGHT BEHIND YOU IS ACTUALLY SO FUCKING SCARY MY HEART WAS POUNDING FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES AFTER I KILLED THE THING

stay frosty

STRAND IS SO COOL. LIKE STRAND IS EXPONENTIALLY FASCINATING AND SO MUCH FUN

i will elaborate on this more in depth another time but i need to say strand feels like what they were going for with stasis except this time they did it RIGHT. in terms of consequences/risk we HEARD all about the dangers of stasis but there were literally no side effects. this on the other hand??? ITS DONE SO PERFECTLY I CANT GET OVER IT

and CONSEQUENCES!!! obviously i knew rohan was going to die like that was completely expectable but i would NOT have guessed the guardian's own shortcomings would have been the reason. god damn

everything about nimbus is so good. i love love love that they're not actually angry or blaming the guardian for rohan's death, just accepting and ready to get justice

THAT FUCKING SCENE. THE FUCKING WITNESS POSSESSING GHOST SCENE?? HELLO??? THAT WAS SO AGONIZING TO WATCH I WAS SO AFRAID

also i lost my shit ghost was literally getting possessed and in visible pain and the guardian just fucking stood there like a sim

ON THAT NOTE THOUGH. "WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER." AND HOLDING OUT THEIR HAND FOR HIM???? THAT IS SOME GOOD GUARDIAN AND GHOST CONTENT THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN BEGGING FOR FOR YEARSSS

all the witness scenes are so fucking cool btw that nightmare they sent to calus is WILD. i am OBSESSED with the witness' shattered glass thing but more importantly their ANGER. i didn't think CALUS is what they'd be angry about!! holy shit!!! emperor has the survival instincts of a fucking moth and if the winnower doesn't blow up the witness i want the witness to blow up calus

i NEED to know what the witness means by "we know pain." babe who hurt you

GHOST GOING "are you handling highly volatile materials?? AGAIN???" I LOVE GHOST SO MUCH IT'S UNREAL. I LITERALLY DIED AT THIS PART BC I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD. he sounded so exasperated and annoyed and affectionate i love ghost more than anything ever

^ PLUS. Rohan going "Again? How often does this happen?" and ghost yelling "TOO OFTEN" GHOST BABY IM SO SORRY AHAHAJSGVSV

THE STRIKE!! THE STRIIIKE. HELLO. i got my ass handed to me about sixteen times in a row and almost gave up for the night but holy shit was it worth it for the ending line. nezarec i KNEW you would come back to us!!! <333

side note im literally so pissed off about the reactor core mission bc the end when you're supposed to be using strand to swing out. i just fucking jumped i was so anxious and i couldn't find the strand thing and then everyone kept talking about how i used strand to get out and how amazing it was and ive just been sitting here like . guys please i know i missed out on all the fun you don't have to rub it in PLEASE

OSIRIS TRAINING THE GUARDIAN OSIRIS TRAINING THE GUARDIAN!!! MY OC HEADCANONS ARE BECOMING ACTUAL CANON. VINDICATION IS SO GOOD

when osiris yells "THAT WAS EXCELLENT" i got SO HAPPY. HE IS SO PROUD OF THEM!!!

now that said. i have NOT gotten past the strand training mission i'm about halfway through it. so i don't know if it comes up and it might not but i WOULD like to see osiris at least acknowledge that he was being too harsh before. like i know he's incredibly stressed and everything but my guy. the guardian was literally keeled over dying and osiris is like "we don't have time for this. why aren't you better at this by now"

on that note listen i love osiris so much he's my second favorite character but when he was scolding the guardian and ghost tries to come to your defense and says "we did our best" and osiris SHOUTS "we NEED to do BETTER" i got SO MAD. DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT MY GHOST

i cannot believe bungie canonically gave the guardian a cringefail compilation cutscene. power blowing up in their face. ghost and osiris shaking their heads at each other in disappointment and affection for the guardian. im losing my shit

THE FUCKING CUTSCENE WHERE OSIRIS HOLDS HIS HAND OUT AND TRIES TO TALK TO SAGIRA BEFORE HE REALIZES........ AGONIZED WAILING HEARD FROM MY HOME

this is... about as far as i have gotten. i know i'm forgetting some things but!! i am SO hyped up rn okay i am going to play the rest tomorrow

overall conclusion: GOOD SHIT. i love it here this game is the best thing that has ever happened to me

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Plus Ultra

It was hard to choose our favourite destination. In a universe full of wonders, we were pretty much spoiled for choice. We marvelled at the exotic flora of the Voynichese jungles; hiked the low-gravity mountains of Gontera; swam in the freshwater oceans of Lonhoea. Our hosts were as perfect as their homes, welcoming us with open spines and tentacles, excited to show off their landmarks to new tourists who had come so far to visit them.

But the wormhole was definitely our least favourite. It was the only way of travelling to such distant galaxies, but it came at a price. Not only the millennia of technological advancement that had bought us access to its mysterious pathways, but the nausea of hurtling through space at speeds our bodies weren't designed to bear, distances our minds weren't built to comprehend.

We travelled this way, that way, forward and backwards across countless galaxies, and completely lost track of time - or it lost track of us. It dilated with the gravity of passing stars, supernovae, supermassive black holes, faltering in the presence of gods. We travelled in stasis, not ageing through the light years and decades that rolled past, and expected to arrive back to a much older Earth, moved on since our departure all of those years ago.

Instead, we found the opposite. We were due to return to the base that had first launched our shuttle into the abyss, but we found it gone, its co-ordinates occupied by bobcats and panthers instead. At first, we assumed it had been lost to time, the island reclaimed by nature after humanity's collapse, but then we realised the reverse was true. This was a world before the Kennedy Space Centre. Before Kennedy. Before mankind had even looked to sail amongst the stars.

We crashed. There was no landing strip, but the ship's computers didn't know that, and dutifully returned us to the programmed destination, totalling itself in the process. We were fine, though. In fact, we slept through the whole thing: without the computer or mission control to revive us from stasis, we had no choice. We slept through the collision, and kept on dreaming as scavengers began dissembling the wreckage, and carried us out in our cryogenic pods.

It was another century before they could revive us. At least, that's what they told us, a century on. Their technology had not been advanced enough, when they first stumbled across our craft, and it must have seemed as foreign to them as the Gonteran kite-ships were to us. They were pre-industrial revolution, pre-space race, pre-AI. But that all quickly changed.

The arrival of our craft, as a cornucopia of technology, a mine of rare metals, and an endless supply of power from our onboard generators, had supercharged their development. Within a decade, they had mastered heavier than air flight. In just one more, they managed faster than light travel. Progress was easier, with the answers laid out in front of them. It may have taken us into the past, but our ship had carried them into the future.

It was towards the end of that curve that they worked out how to bring us back to life. I was dragged coughing and spluttering into the seventeenth century, my sarcophagus was whisked away for further study, and I was taken into meetings for the same. Our universal translators, well tested by alien tongues (or, in the case of the Voynichese, the vibrating of their hind limbs), made short work of the ancient Spanish, and even managed to spell out our concepts without direct equivalents in terms they understood.

Finally, my crewmates and I were left to get our own bearings on a world that was as unfamiliar as many we had come across. It was both new and old at the same time, and we only had each other to remember where we'd come from, not to mention where we'd been. We had shared our stories with the locals here, but it was nice to reflect on those memories with each other, trading pieces of the same mosaic to fill out the whole.

"This is wild, right?" I said. "Arriving at the dawn of American colonisation. I suppose we're not allowed to change the course of history?"

"I think we already have," one of the engineers pointed out. "The Spanish Empire were already dominant in this hemisphere, but think of the technological advantages we've given them. All of this knowledge, centuries ahead of schedule... that has to have drastically altered the world as we know it."

We walked through a newly constructed airstrip. Its bays hosted a dozen ships much like our own, but resplendent in royal red and golden weld, their hulls emblazoned with the Empire's motto: Plus Ultra. That retort had taken on new meaning now. Out in the wider universe, the Pillars of Hercules felt a distant memory.

The fledgling astronauts hurried between their craft, but we caught snippets of their own conversations, their translators now working just as well as ours. A discovery to surpass Columbus, one of them was saying; stumbling across a hundred New Worlds. To surpass Copernicus, his companion replied; for it will once again establish Earth as the centre of the universe.

"Not just our world," I realised. I thought about our peaceful, simple hosts, the Gonterans and Lonhoei and Voynichese, the way they'd welcomed us with open arms. The way our ship's guns could have easily dispatched them all, if we'd been that way inclined. The way we hadn't been. "We just gave intergalactic travel to the conquistadors... and, by extension, the known universe. An empire on which a dozen suns will never set."

[skyward-floored]

Oh, what about Legend Vs Wild with their full arsenal?

That would be really cool

Honestly if Legend ever gets out his full arsenal it must be a pretty dire situation. (If he ever does in lu then things must be going very badly)

Pretty sure Legend would beat Wild. (This one is pretty long, putting it under a cut)

So Wild is very aware of Legend’s vast arsenal, and I think he’d go into the fight knowing he’s going to have to be quick and decisive. He’d probably try to take Legend off-guard, go for one of his elemental weapons like a flame spear or ice sword, maybe a windcleaver, and try to overwhelm him by quickly switching tactics. But Legend would counter fairly easily.

Flames or ice? Well he’s got a mirror shield. Electricity? Cane of Somaria to block it, or not even bother because of the green holy ring. Wild falls back and goes for a higher position in order to shoot arrows at him? Well Legend either dodges with the Pegasus boots or seeds, or uses the cane again, maybe the cane of Byrna this time to deflect. Heck or he could just go invisible with the magic cape, the possibilities are nearly endless. Bomb arrows? Bombproof ring. Ancient arrows? (Not that he’d really use them) cane of Somaria again.

Even if Wild still had his champion abilities... Legend would still come out on top. Daruk’s protection? Well, Legend has titan mitts and several hammers, that thing is done for. Green holy ring again for Urbosa’s fury, and Revali’s gale would only really give Wild some extra height, and there’d be the same problem with arrows. Mipha’s grace heals, but that would really only buy him some extra time.

I think the only way Wild would have a chance against Legend’s items would be either to slow down time with a flurry rush or with stasis and hit him while he’s switching something out, or somehow separate him from his stuff. (rather unlikely, especially since he’d have to take off all his rings!)

It might take Legend a while to beat Wild (because the champion really is fast and good at dodging, plus all of his crazy outfits and the boosts that come with them would be difficult to overcome, even with stuff like Legend’s medallions) but I think his arsenal would wear Wild down in the end.

[league-of-thots]

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

         You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

         Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

         Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

         You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

         After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

         Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

         When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

         You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

         After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

         “Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

         “I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

         “Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

         You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

         Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

         The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

           You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

         So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

         You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

         While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

         It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

         You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

         “Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

         “I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

         “Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

         He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

         “I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

         “Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

         “Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

         “Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

         You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

         “Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

         “Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

         “You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

         “Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

         “You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

         “Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

           “Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

         “Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

         He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

         “So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

         “Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

         “Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

         “But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

         “Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

         “Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

         “I suppose. More cider?”

         “Sure.”

           You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

         Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

         You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

         Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

         He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

         The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

         “You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

         “Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

         After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

         You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

         “You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

         When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

         He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

         He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

         “Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

         “Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

         “You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

         “But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

         “Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

         Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

         You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

         “God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

         “Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

         “Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

         “Touch me…”

         “You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

         “My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

         It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

         He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

         He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

         He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

         You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

[ofna]

So I've been thinking about this for a while and finally decided to put down my thoughts. I make a lot of assumptions in this but since we only have the demo there has to be SOME assumptions made lol.

So the Birdtrayer isn't Simon(e). They have the vibe, but the logistics don't work out. The weird bird cult reaping system seems at least somewhat random, so I unless they were just "waiting for their moment" to get accepted into the cult club, they aren't the birdtrayer. Of course, there could be some convoluted way to cheat the pulling system, but, without any evidence, I'm just gonna assume it's random.

It's not Bea(u) for the same reason. They're more likely to be the Birdtrayer than Simon(e) because they have prior knowledge of the bird cult that Simon(e) doesn't have, but the logistical problem of random cult pulling again makes me suspect they're a no. Plus Bea(u) very much has the "false positive" vibe of being too highly suspect to be the birdtrayer LOL.

If we're going the "birdtrayer is being manipulated" route, it's Jeremy. 99.9%. I personally don't like that idea simply because I feel like it just absolves the RO of being the Birdtrayer which defeats the point of HAVING a Birdtrayer in my opinion, so I'm gonna make another wild guess and say it's not him. He still has a CHANCE to be Birdtrayer if it's not manipulation, but he's a little too soft. Again, the "softness" could be a trick but then we'd have the weird stasis of "the RO you picked is actually nothing like how you thought they were" so I still don't think it's him. (This is gonna bite me in the ass later if it's Jeremy lmao).

Finally, we have Natasha and Elliot. I am pretty much convinced it's either one or the other. Natasha doesn't like the bird cult system and has the practicality to pull off being the birdtrayer, and Elliot very much gives me vibes that he is the kind of person who will move themselves up in a fucked up system to protect themselves from its horrible laws/rules or to dismantle said system.

I feel like we tend to think the twins are less likely to be the birdtrayer because of the even worse betraying implications, but Natasha strikes me as someone who can heavily compartmentalize and justify things to herself. (Manipulated Jeremy would also likely fall under that sort of trap.)

Once we get more chapters, I feel like the birdtrayer will definitely become more obvious, but just from the first few chapters I can at least AGGRESSIVELY ANALYZE (and make wild accusations HAHA). I've spent way too much time mindlessly pondering this, and it's been consuming my life. (OFNA is amazing, thank you for this gem ❤️)

Some very interesting theories 👀

Whether or not your birdtrayer theory is correct, a lot of your thoughts about the characters are super accurate. Glad you’re enjoying the game <3

[a-tale-of-legends]

Idea! The twins get the idea to ask N for help with communicating Eternatus, with potential extra complication if Eternatus did temporarily possess Leon.

N would be very confused when he talks to Eternatus and can get the gist of feelings but no clear message. They are not from Earth, after all, and spent the last millenia asleep / in stasis. Not many chances to learn the local language of the Pokemon.

Alternatively, Eternatus can speak telepathically and sounds like they have a British / Galarian accent, plus some English slang. XD From the ride in Leon's head.

Ooooh interesting! I wouldn't be surprised if N has been to Galar at some point in his journey, so he would definitely know where to meet the twins. Him not being able to understand Eternatus clearly is a good concept! Kinda puts a limit of how much he can really use his abilities.

He does get some feelings, like you said, but without a clear message it's hard to translate. Sadness, anger and loneliness are the main one he feels/ can be a decent gist, and N's old frustration with humanity is brought up again. It's one thing to defeat a wild pokemon- wild pokemon fight each other, and from his understanding, the circumstances were that Galar would possibly be destroyed if they hadn't called the Wolves. That he can understand and accept. What he cannot and will not accept is the fact is that a fucking business man capture a defenseless creature into your custody and force said creature wishing stars in this master plan of ' saving Galar' or some bullshit. At the very least with Maxie and Archie, they were ultimately unaware of the harm that would happen onto Hoenn and the legendaries. Rise knew what he was doing and Eternatus' anger soon becomes N. Fortunately the twins and Leon are their to remind him of the good in humanity- Leon wanting to befriend Eternatus and wanting to work together to get a better sense of their powers, even after being possessed ( which btw!!! Is a formula N never even thought of!!!! So he's pretty excited!!!!). A and E in general and N trusting them so much more than he used to( and of course seeing the good of humanity with his own eyes). So yeah. N would translate the vague feelings he's getting from Eternatus.

Now I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I know British slang, but after possessing Leon, if Eternatus can speak telepathically, then that is a big yes. I like to imagine Eternatus, being so out of it, doesn't really have a filter, so they just go off most of the time. They are mindful of Leon's emotions, having literally know more than anyone else ( which is kinda a scary thought. A Pokemon that possessed you knows more about you than your friends and family. Quite possibly yourself), but also you can't tell me Eternatus wouldn't engage in some playful ribbing of the man. Both N and then would be having a field day with the sass and harmless gossip, much to the twins and Leon's dismay lol.

I hope these answers suffice! I'm not sure if I answered them well, haha.

[invisibleicewands]

His beard bloomed and his hair sprang forth, like a riot of corkscrews, during lockdown. Now Michael Sheen sweeps on to the National Theatre’s Olivier stage in the manner of an Old Testament prophet descending from Mount Snowdon – or must we call it Yr Wyddfa?

Sheen is best known as a great mimic who played Chris Tarrant in last year’s TV series about the Who Wants To Be A Millionaire coughing scandal, Quiz, and Tony Blair in the 2006 film The Queen opposite Helen Mirren – plus David Frost in Peter Morgan’s play and film Frost/Nixon and Brian Clough in the The Damned United movie.

Here though he takes on the role of the narrator in Lyndsey Turner’s bittersweet revival of Dylan Thomas’s verse drama written for radio in 1954 – re-imagined here in a care home. [...]

Looking pallid and paunchy in his creased shirt and saggy trousers, Sheen takes the role of the story’s narrator, made famous by Richard Burton. Only here, Sheen relates the tale not to the audience but to his father, whose memories have been robbed by Alzheimer’s.Inebriated by the whisky he keeps hidden in his jacket, Sheen stumbles eagerly through the verse as if making it up as he goes along – painting pictures of people (and their dreams) in the Carmarthenshire port that lies ‘fast, and slow, asleep’. [...] The care home setting does feel cheerless at first, but it’s a clever way of focusing the rambling yarn. And furniture on casters – including a shop counter, steaming stove and kitchen table, set with multiple cloths to denote different homes – add a sense of magic and playfulness.Nor could you wish for a more loquacious, richer narrator than hirsute, woody-voiced Sheen, who looks like he’s been training outside an off-licence. I just wish it had been bookended with silence rather than someone else’s words. DailyMail

[...] On the circular stage of the reconfigured, socially distanced Olivier auditorium, Brown’s character patiently sets about starting up the day’s routine with the residents drifting in to sit and talk and stare into space. But the temperature climbs with the unexpected arrival of Mr. Jenkins’ son Owain (Michael Sheen), whose short-fuse exasperation turns swiftly to anger when his father cannot or will not communicate with him. Calmed by the staff, he and his father begin looking at an old family photograph album and Thomas’s original text takes over, now presented as a portrait of the village of Mr. Jenkins’ not-quite-forgotten past. [...] Whenever it is staged — it was last seen at the National 25 years ago — the chief problem is the lack of momentum. Characters’ (in)actions lack consequences, which makes it hard to engage with them except on a momentary basis. Owen and Turner’s new frame seeks to address that directly by making Sheen’s character not an inert, impartial observer but a man desperate to tell the story to and with his father in order to connect, to awaken his father’s distracted mind. Previously neutral descriptions are thus charged up, which intermittently animates proceedings. [...] The ultimate moment of connection between father and son is affecting but the production’s dangerous proximity to unearned sentimentality is also visible. And in the foregoing hour and three-quarter running time (with no interval), the sustained inertia grows wearing. There’s welcome tenderness aplenty but, when it comes to storytelling, there’s too much telling and, alas, too little story. Variety

                                                                                                                             Michael Sheen is terrific in Dylan Thomas’s linguistic tour de force, which remains undimmed by the years [...] The whole home thing is a nice enough idea that ambles on agreeably… but it’s a thrill when the play proper starts: it feels like the air suddenly fizzes and crackles when Sheen’s narrator introduces us to Llareggub on one ‘starless and Bible-black’ night. Ultimately, the care home business feels minor and diversionary, a framework to (kind of) explain why the poem is being performed. But it doesn’t really have a payoff or purpose beyond the performance of the poem itself. I'm not sure anyone really needs my opinion on I ‘Under Milk Wood’ as Thomas wrote it. But for what it’s worth I think it’s brilliant – time hasn’t dimmed it, his language remains bracingly wild, elemental and weird. And this is a very good, detailed performance of it – Sheen is impassioned and urgent, like he’s electrified by the surging flanguage; the cast of mostly older actors tend to get more playful roles, and seem to be having terrific fun. [...] You bought your tickets to see Michael Sheen doing ‘Under Milk Wood’ and you’ve got Michael Sheen doing ‘Under Milk Wood’ – nobody’s going to feel disappointed. Time Out

[...] Sheen – shaggy, bearded and full of humanity – leads as the narrator but this is really an ensemble show, animated with amusing turns by Siân Phillips, Cleo Sylvestre and Ifan Huw Dafydd among others. It comes with an inventive framing device (additional material is written by Siân Owen) in which Sheen plays the son of Richard Jenkins (Karl Johnson), who is losing his bearings when he is visited by Jenkins Junior in his nursing home. [...] While this is a charming production that bewitches, it begs the question of why a drama that is so consciously retreating into the past is revived now, and how it speaks to our pandemic landscape. Thomas draws a picture of a place steeped in stasis and saturated in nostalgia. Time has stood still here, as Thomas makes clear in the symbolism of the village clock’s frozen hands, and it arguably represents his yearning for a bygone world after the second world war. This production seems entirely conscious of its retreat into the past and it resembles a lost world that is both comforting and jarring after the horrors of the pandemic. The Guardian

To hear Michael Sheen deliver Under Milk Wood feels akin to witnessing Gielgud's Hamlet or Rylance's Rooster Byron. It is nothing short of theatrically seminal.As hoped, the poetry is magnificent. He orchestrates Dylan Thomas's posthumously performed masterpiece as a maestro conductor, all waving hands and syncopated rhythm. There are times when his words seem to literally hang in the air, leaving the socially distanced Olivier audience hypnotised. I could listen to him say "Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea…" on loop forever. [...] The concept doesn't always feel completely cohesive - it seems strange that everyone so willingly joins the performance when Sheen's character is so cold and skittish with them initially - but Lyndsey Turner's beautifully choreographed in-the-round production is convincing enough to override such niggles.The metanarrative also has the noticeable effect of causing Sheen to speak as if he is conjuring Dylan's words on the spot. This lends both an immediacy to the language and also a purpose to its rich imagery - after all, here is a man desperately trying to paint pictures in his father's addled imagination. Under Milk Wood is in some sense a victim of its own familiarity, and Turner's staging lends a much-needed freshness over reverence. [...] Whatsonstage

A charismatic Michael Sheen is part showman, part shaman in this staging of Dylan Thomas’s 1954 radio play, conjuring a Welsh town into lyrical, beguiling life with mostly older actors on a bare stage. Lyndsey Turner’s production marks a triumphant reopening for the National’s Olivier Theatre, where the audience now sits on all sides, a configuration that lends itself to simple production values and a deeper communion between actors and onlookers.It begins oddly, though, in the middle-distant past with Sheen as an angry, wild-bearded writer visiting his demented father (Karl Johnson, heartbreaking) in a care home. Thomas’s poetry is the only way to reach the old man, and his fellow residents are duly summoned to incarnate the townsfolk of the author’s fictional Llareggub (“bugger all” backwards). It’s an awkward framing device with a serious point: to stress the importance of community and memory, and salute the talents and rich lives of elder generations. But what a lovely, bittersweet spell this show casts. Sheen, like Richard Burton and Anthony Hopkins, grew up in Port Talbot, an hour from Laugharne where Thomas lived and partially wrote the play. He has the contours of the language and the landscape in his head, and an orator’s relish for Thomas’s evocative phrasing. We first see Llareggub asleep, “starless and bible black” and meet its inhabitants in their dreams. [...] Eveningstandard