#zero/volt

[jadeazora]

A teaser featuring the starter Pokemon has been shown for the Indigo Disk.

Today's TCG art drop is Grusha and Glaceon!

Some promo shots for Friday's episode of Horizons! Amethio vs. Rayquaza is about to be a disaster (for him.)

New update and app icon for Cafe Remix! (I spy a new costume for Spheal.) New main orders are added, and a new event style, Outdoor Tea Party is coming soon. The Rowlet Outbreak event has begun, with a higher chance of encountering shiny Rowlet, and the Calyrex slow-cooking event is coming Dec15.

[rosehearts-forest]

So *hair twirl* there’s this show for kids.

It’s called Miniforce and I loved when I was younger and now that Netflix is going to get rid of it I’m rewatching it for old times sake.

[shadowcat222]

Also oh yeah V- Equinox embraces the Decepticon cause instead of continuing his fight even through the most hopeless period was a concept I suppose

[ipierrealism]

Ogni volta che su qualche social leggo "unpopular opinion: videogiochi >>> sesso" la sola cosa che mi chiedo è: ma da quando sarebbe unpopular?

[f4tnana]

te ajudando a se acostumar com o nf prolongado🦋💕

1- adaptação 💕

na minha opinião, nf prolongado é aquele com mais de 20h ent se vc nunca conseguiu chegar nem nisso, não faça. a chance de vc ter uma compulsão dps é enorme, ent vai aumentando as horas de nf aos poucos!

vc tem q começar o dia já sabendo q amanhã vai fazer nf pq as refeições do dia anterior contribuem mto! no dia da adaptação, vc vai comer umas 300-600 kcal porém, vai ser muitas refeições (n pode pular nenhuma).

uma coisa q eu gosto mto de fazer no dia antes do dia da adaptação é olhar minha geladeira e já escolher todas as minhas refeições. assim eu já conto as calorias de todas elas e as chances de sair da dieta ficam menores.

quase todas as suas refeições precisam ser proteínas pq é oq dá mais saciedade. (a base é praticamente 70% proteínas, 15% carboidratos e 15% salada)

OBS: a sua última refeição vai depender do horário q vc quer q o nf acabe, normalmente eu tenho episódios compulsivos a noite então gosto de terminar meu nf logo pela manhã pra começar o dia normalmente.

2- durante o nf🦋

durante meus nf’s prolongados eu sinto a necessidade de mastigar (oq é diferente da fome!) então eu faço um café/chá, pego um algodão, mergulho ele no café/chá e mastigo.

é totalmente comum vc sentir fome no nf ent coisas desse tipo ajudam bastante… vc pode fazer essa técnica do algodão, pode tomar cafés, chás e até uma limonada (desde q seja com adoçante zero), e a nossa queridinha, a coca zero.

tente se distrair ao máximo! eu adoro filmes mais praticamente todos os meus favoritos (infelizmente) são relacionados ao t.a ent eu gosto de desenhar! isso me distrai bastante e faz eu parar de pensar em comida..

e pfv, não façam exercícios durante o nf! isso obviamente vai acelerar a queima de gordura mais vai te deixar totalmente sem energia e as chances de vc ter uma compulsão dps ficam ainda maiores.

3- fase pós nf 💕

quando seu nf acabar, eu recomendo comer uma fruta ou fazer uma refeição completa como um prato com salada, carne, ovo, arroz e feijão.

o melhor horário pra quebrar o nf é o horário de almoço, assim n tem chances de vc ter uma compulsão com besteiras ou algo assim.

se vc tem episódios compulsivos, eu não recomendo comer frutas docinhas pra quebrar o nf pq isso pode fazer vc querer mais doces e aí já viu. a melhor opção seria um almoço bem completo msm.

não recomendo vc comer tantaaa coisa pq seu corpo basicamente se desacostumou com a comida ent se vc comer mto seu nf n vai ter valido nada. comece comendo pouquinho e dps volte normalmente

4- dicas extras🦋

- eu gosto de ver as thinspo daqui do tumblr msm, isso me ajuda bastante.

- fique o mais longe possível da comida!

- faça nf com alguma amiga ou convide uma ana aq do tumblr msm! vc n está sozinha :)

- se já tiverem falado mal do seu corpo alguma vez, lembre de tudo oq falaram e pense: “eu vou mesmo deixar eles terem razão!?” ajuda em um nível absurdo

- quando vc estiver pensando em quebrar o nf antes de dar o tempo q vc escolheu, repita essas frases:

“eu odeio comer”

“a comida é nojenta, ela é minha maior inimiga”

“eu fico enjoada só de ver comida”

repita quantas vezes for necessário. quem controla seu cérebro é vc! repita isso até ele acreditar.

foi isso amigas! espero ter ajudado vcs!🦋💕

[eternosognatore]

"Preferisco salvare la nostra relazione tutte le volte che è necessario, piuttosto che ripartire da zero con qualcuno che non amerò mai quanto te"

[raccontidialiantis]

Il giorno dell’Angelo

Dunque, vediamo un po’ a che punto siamo con te. Sono decenni che ti seguo e ti guido paziente. Ti ho avuto in affidamento una trentina d’anni fa, secondo la vostra concezione limitata del tempo. Mi sei stato passato da un caro collega quando lui è stato premiato e promosso ad altro incarico di superiore responsabilità. Io ero e resto ancora solo un angelo alle prime armi. E con te ho di fatto imparato il mestiere: neppure noi “nasciamo imparati”, come dite voi, sai?

Forse è anche per questo mio goffo apprendistato sul campo, che te ne sono capitate parecchie. Ma in fondo te la sei cavata bene. Pochi punti sulla pelle. Tanti nell’anima. No, non ringraziarmi ancora, ché non è finita: vedrai che roba! Hai capito in qualche modo che ci sono, che cerco di tenerti a freno quando ti arrabbi. E di confortarti quando hai gli inevitabili momenti di scoraggiamento. Però sei testardo; hai quasi portato a compimento il tuo percorso.

Certo: nessuno sa qual è il chilometraggio che gli è stato assegnato, né quale sia la sua missione sulla Terra, il suo scopo primario nell’esistenza presente che gli è toccata. Hai capito sbattendo la testa più volte che c’è solo da usare il benedetto “libero arbitrio”, che altro non è se non scegliere la via più difficile e impegnativa. Sempre. Che poi è anche quella che ti farà tagliare le curve per accorciare il cammino dell’elevazione della tua anima - il tuo vero “io” - verso i piani superiori della scala evolutiva spirituale.

Certo: noi custodi vi guardiamo, da lassù e sorridiamo. O magari ci dispiacciamo degli sforzi che fate, delle lacrime di rabbia e delle fatiche fatte per conquistare traguardi in fondo futili, tutte cose caduche, che alla luce del tempo che passa valgono poco più di zero. Poi vi tradite, vi ingannate, vi odiate. Ma più spesso per fortuna ci stupite e ci commuovete con atti d’amore puro e disinteressato, con dolcezze inaspettate e infinite. Che spesso sono il frutto di scelte anche molto difficili, per voi. Vi ammiriamo, per queste cose.

Libero arbitrio. Un po’ vi invidiamo, perché a noi, senza un corpo che soffre, fragile, preda di influenze e bisognoso di continue cure, non è di conseguenza concesso provare emozioni forti, essere schiavi delle grandissime passioni che sono vostra croce e vostro privilegio. Per noi è tutto molto più diluito. Soffuso in una luce bianca benefica e morbida. Una sala d’attesa perenne, in pratica. Che poi il nostro grande desiderio di salire di grado è ciò che ci spinge infine a scendere sulla Terra, a incarnarci indossando a nostra volta dei corpi.

Opportuni mezzi per misurarci con cose vere e difficili, come la gestione dei rapporti tra esseri umani. Sappiamo bene che vivere è difficile. Per tutti. No, fidati: ognuno porta la croce che gli spetta, a seconda della propria posizione nel piano evolutivo concordato lassù prima di scendere. E per ciascuno c’è una fila di esistenze: lunga o breve. Alcune saranno necessariamente molto impegnative, altre cosiddette “di riposo” e altre ancora magari di utilità per altri esseri umani.

Perché soprattutto aiutare gli altri è ciò che fa bene all’anima. No, le esistenze terrene non avvengono in ordine “cronologico” come potreste immaginare: il tempo non si dispiega “in sequenza” come ve lo immaginate. Ma lasciamo perdere questo argomento, perché il tempo è impossibile da comprendere, per la natura umana. Oggi è per tutti un giorno uguale a ieri e sarà uguale anche domani. C’è molta sofferenza comune, in questo periodo sul pianeta blu.

Ciascuno rielabori intimamente e senza pregiudizi il messaggio portato dalle malatie e dalle soffrenze fisiche. Risulta evidente che qualcuno vi sta avvertendo: a livello individuale non è più possibile per nessuno pensare di essere “migliore” del suo vicino. Che si possa avere diritto a dei privilegi rispetto a un qualsiasi altro essere umano. O addirittura che l'uomo abbia su questo pianeta più diritti di esistenza di altre specie, che si possano sfruttare le risorse in modo scellerato, come avete fatto negli ultimi sessanta o settanta anni.

Nessun’anima è migliore o più degna di quella di un altro: ci sono solo miliardi di anime in marcia parallela verso la Luce. Ognuna soffre e fa esperienza secondo il proprio livello di spiritualità, evoluzione e comprensione delle leggi cosmiche. E le religioni dovrebbero servire poi a farvi amare, rispettare, aiutare; non a essere pretesto per le guerre e per l’accumulo di beni, alla fine tutti deperibili e totalmente inutili. “Le guerre non nascono perché la gente è religiosa, ma perché non lo è abbastanza.” (Enzo Biagi)

Comunque, tu: niente paura. Sono qui, ti sorveglio e ti sarò vicino. Sino al momento della tua prossima transizione. Perché, grazie a Dio, almeno tu sai con fiducia che non sei la carne che pure curi, bensì lo spirito che la abita. E poi continuerai il tuo viaggio in altra maniera. Avrò cura di te, perché dopotutto anche a me servono i… “contributi” per salire di grado! E tra l’altro anche se al momento indosso le ali, non mi è dato sapere se ho finito il mio ciclo di studi, di reincarnazioni sulla Terra. Per un po’ ancora, probabilmente anche per me quassù vale il “carpe diem”.

Sei tu il mio lavoro di oggi. Ma in passato, sai, ho avuto di peggio: cose che non posso dirti, per la legge sulla Privacy Eterna. Oggi che col freddo invernale non si può andare a fare un picnic o una gita al mare, guarda i link qui sotto e rifletti. Roba vecchia? Ti ricordo che il tempo non esiste, che il male è connaturato alla natura umana. E che tutti noi svolgiamo un’enorme, lunga e molto complessa recita. Senza il male, non riconoscereste quanto può essere importante una carezza o un segno d’approvazione, un aiuto. O un bacio appassionato. Buona riflessione.

RDA

[pleistocene-pride]

Torpedo torpedo, better known as the common torpedo, common torpedo ray, ocellate torpedo, or eyed electric ray, is a species of electric ray in the family Torpedinidae which is endemic to the eastern Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea. These rays typically dwell in coastal and nearshore waters but can occasionally be at depths up to 1,300ft (400m), however they tend to prefer warm sandy flats and sea grass beds. Torpedo rays are generally solitary and nocturnal ambush predators which feed on a variety of fish, crustaceans, and worms. They are themselves preyed upon by seals, sharks, and large boney fish. As with other members of its family, the common torpedo can subdue both prey and predator with strong electric shocks of up to 200 volts which are generated from a pair of large kidney-shaped electric organs which are visible beneath the skin on either side of the head. The electrogenic properties of this species led it to be used in medicine for the treatment of pain and diseases such as gout by various cultures in antiquity such as the Greeks, Egyptians, and Carthaginians. The Romans in particular used the common torpedo to treat headaches. Reaching around 12 to 24 inches (30 to 61cms) in length and 7 to 16inches (18 to 41cms) in width, with females being slightly larger than males, the common torpedo has a nearly circular pectoral fin disc and a short, thick tail with two dorsal fins of nearly equal size and a large caudal fin. The eyes are small and followed by spiracles of comparable size. The dorsal coloration of the common torpedo is rusty orange to reddish brown which is adorned with prominent blue spots on its back, which usually number five but may vary from zero to nine. The underside is cream-colored, with dark disc margins. Breeding typically occurs from December to February. Common torpedos are aplacental viviparous, with the developing embryos nourished by yolk and histotroph ("uterine milk") produced by the mother. Females produce litters of up to 28 after a gestation period of 4–8 months depending on the geographical region. Common torpedo reach sexual maturity at around 10in ( 25cms) in length and may live upwards of 10 years.

[moonverc3x]

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!

Another art trade event, another commemorative artwork!! Wishing you all a belated Merry Christmas and an early Happy New Year!

Character tags are under the cut, and listed in order from left to right!

Imp @paintedplum7 starstruck Dee @starflungwaddledee Starry Dee @staring-at-a-blank-pagee Volt @hyperz0ne Kurokage @isaackkkbunn King Empatal @justalilstar Rose Dee @dreamingzinnia Vernix @sirdarkmatter Robert @clairetimes Velocity @kittenvirus Necomine @mementomarx Dazor @a-stardusted-sky Ranger @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me Selene @moonsharkss Neko Knight @electric-s0da Vixie @raggedmasquerade Sonya @zombiecicada Loga @goldendragonleaf Lunch @autumnleafdraws Aphelion @hadopelagicpsi Rimuri @zeros-witness Peony @giantchasm Starlbo @ibatomik Journalist Dee @shibuyatoastedcursor

[aroaceleovaldez]

i know everybody makes fun of Thalia and Jason for being underpowered compared to the rest of the Big 3 kids, I have done so on multiple occasions myself, BUT. Okay.

I do think the Grace siblings aren't so much underscaled to the others, but instead their powers just aren't nearly as precise. Like, Nico and Hazel can control literally any stone/earthenware/metal material and summon reinforcements and a whole bunch of other little things, Percy can control all water just in general, etc etc. Jason and Thalia? Jason can control all air, which is OP as fuck when you think about it. He flies through controlling the air to lift him. Which means he can lift/carry/etc anything by just controlling air the right way. Like, people talk about Percy being OP as fuck with the water thing but Jason's on pretty equal ground with "can control all air/wind."

And then the lightning/thunder. I know everybody likes to go "oh well what if they could control nerves and electrical impulses!" you are thinking too specific/minute. We don't need to go that far. The Grace siblings can cast a concentrated fucking explosion whenever they want and it will not harm them at all AND it has area of effect damage and potential residual effects. Armor does not do shit against a literal three MILLION volts. And lightning is BIG. Like okay yeah sure not great for small combat or close-range with allies but put either of them against an army? Bye bye. Does not stand a CHANCE. And we've already established in The Lost Hero that if you put Jason in a room full of conductive metal and his allies are not at risk? You are a GONER. Zero questions! You can fight skeletons and rocks and maybe water. You cannot fight three million volts straight to the face. The Grace siblings do not need bells and whistles they have Cast Beam Attack and there is nothing you can do about it. And this does not even touch upon how fucking loud thunder is.

[homregeszet]

Római folyóügyek

Van egy érdekes összevetés Európa ókori és középkori higiéniai viszonyairól, miszerint a római vívmányokat, mint a közfürdők és a nyilvános wc-k használatát elfelejtik a későbbi időkben. Természetesen ez ebben a formában nem igaz. A közfürdők nagyobb városokban tovább üzemeltek, csak a nemek köz��s fürdését tiltották benne, valamint a nők számára a meztelenséget. Az pedig, hogy több járványt ismerünk a középkorból azt elsősorban az írott forrásoknak köszönhetjük. Na de akkor miben volt másabb a római higiénia és wc használat? A római fürdőkben nem csak a tisztálkodáson volt a hangsúly: üzleti, politikai találkozókat tartottak itt. Alapvetően három főhelyisége volt a fürdőépületeknek: tepidarium, caldarium és frigidarium. Az első a meleg vizes fürdő, a második egyfajta gőzszoba volt, a harmadik pedig a hideg vizes medence, ez utóbbi volt mind közül a legnagyobb és ebben a sorrendben kellett végighaladni rajtuk. Nagyobb fürdőkomplexumok egyfajta wellness szolgáltatásokat is kínáltak olajos testápolás révén. (1. kép)

1.kép: római fürdő

A fürdők a rómaiság jelképei lettek, távol Itáliától is megjelentek, amint megtelepedtek a külső tartományokban. A katonai táborok közelében minden esetben működtek fürdők, gazdag villa épületeknél is előfordul fürdőépület. Ezekhez a környező vízfolyásokat, forrásokat használták fel, szállításra komoly vízvezeték rendszert építettek ki. Talán mindenki számára ismerős a aquaeductus, a nagy kőből épített pilléres vízszállító építmény, de ezeken kívül is használtak kisebb vezetékeket, csatornákat kőből, terrakottából és ólomból. Utóbbi egészségügyi kockázatoktól nem mentes, bár a folyó víz miatt kevesebb méreganyag volt a vízben, mint amennyit egyesek gondolnak. Szóval nem az ólommérgezés miatt omlott össze a Római Birodalom. Ezt a fajta "szerelvényt" egyébként is csak a leggazdagabb réteg engedhette meg magának. Nem régiben találtak egy igen jó állapotú ólom víztartályt és vezetékrendszert a Pompeii melletti Stabieból. Idősebb Plinius szerint a vízelvezetés volt a rómaiak egyik legnagyobb vívmánya. (2. kép)

2.kép

De miért beszéltem ennyit a fürdőkről mikor a wc a téma? Mert a nyilvános wc-k többségének a víz öblítését vagy a végtermék elszállítását a fürdőkből kifolyó vízzel oldották meg. A latrines, ahogy a rómaiak hívták, szintén koedukált volt, férfi és nő egymás mellett végezhette a dolgát vagy ingyenesen vagy pedig némi használati díj ellenében. A dolog után pedig körbe járt egy ecetes vödörben ázó botra erősített tengeri szivacs, ez volt a "budipapír". Ehhez kapcsolódóan ismert egy ostiai grafiti: verbose tibi nemo dicit dum Priscianus utaris xylosphongio - senki sem fog veled sokat beszélni Priscianus, amíg nem használod a szivacsot a bot végén. Kevésbé felkapott helyeken, vagy ahol hiány volt a tengerből, lecsiszolt kerámiatöredékekkel kapargatták le a betyárkörtéket. Nem minden településen volt meg a pottyantás is ilyen úri helyisége, csak a nagyobb városokban. (3-4. kép)

3-4.kép

Írott források alapján tudjuk, hogy előszeretettel vonultak el a rómaiak a városon kívüli temetők sírkövei közé. Erről beszámol Petronius Satyriconja is a farkasember történetében, valamint Salonából is ismert egy sírkő, amely próbálja eltántorítani az embereket az ilyen cselekedetektől: Quiqu in eo vico stercus non posserit aut non cacaverit aut non miaverit is habeat illas propitias si neglexerit viderit - Aki ezen a helyen nem üritkezik vagy nem vizel, bizonyos jótéteményekben részesül. Ha ezt semmibe veszi majd meglátja! (5. kép)

5.kép

Keretes szöveg: Az én emberem kezdte lecsinálni a síremlékeket, én pedig fütyörészve leültem, és a sírköveket számlálgattam. Egyszer csak látom ám, hogy a kísérőm vetkőzni kezd, és minden öltözékét lerakja az út mentén. Nekem még a lélegzetem is elakadt, úgy álltam ott, mint egy holttetem. Az pedig körülvizelte a ruháit, és pillanatok alatt farkassá változott. (Satyricon LXII 80. ford.: Horváth István Károly)

Egyfajta "zero waste" felfogásként is értelmezhető az ürülék és vizelet hasznosítás. Előbbit trágyázáskor használták, ami nem a legideálisabb dolog volt. Utóbbihoz egy híres anekdota kapcsolódik: sokan hallották talán a pénznek nincs szaga kifejezést, ez Vespasianus császártól származik. Az egyik verzió szerint a nyilvános wc-k megadóztatása miatt, egy másik változat azonban a tóga fehérítőkhöz kapcsolja. A tógának, a római arisztokrácia tipikus öltözékének, egyik ismérve, hogy hófehér, ezt a fehérítést általában a teve vizelet által érték el. Azonban teve nem mindenhol volt akkor sem, így másik nyersanyaghoz fordultak, ami általában az emberi volt. Szóval valamelyik szolgáltatás megadóztatása miatt vonta kérdőre a Későbbi Titus császár atyját, aki válaszul elé tartott néhány érmét és mondta el a híres mondatot: Pecunia non olet.

Az eddigiek alapján lehetne gondolni, hogy a római társadalom illatos, tiszta és egészségesebb volt, mint a későbbi korok emberei, azonban új kutatások árnyalják ezt. Fürdőkből és latrinákból vett minták alapján több parazita és féreg maradványát is kimutatták. Magyarázata ennek, hogy a fürdővizeket nem cserélték olyan gyakran, mint kellett volna és a takarítást, tisztítást sem vették olyan komolyan. Galenus a Kr. u. 2. században élt orvos szerint az élősködő férgek és kórokozók a test belső harmóniájának megbomlása miatt jönnek létre, az fel sem merült, hogy esetleg kívülről hatoltak volna be. Habár valóban hatalmas technikai mutatvány volt a római tisztálkodási kultúra ilyen megvalósítása, az egészségügyi hiányosságok miatt ezeket nem lehetett kellőképpen kihasználni.

Végezetül álljon itt néhány mondás, amelyeket egy ostiai latrina falára írtak fel és az ókori hét bölcshöz kapcsolták őket. (A fordítások az ELTE BDPK honlapja alapján)

6.kép

Durum cacantes monuit ut nitant Thales. - Thalész arra ösztönözte a keményet (vagy nehezen) szarókat, hogy feszítsék meg magukat.

Ut bene cacaret, ventrem palpavit Solon. - Hogy jól szarjon, Szolón a hasát simogatta.

Vissire tacite Chilon docuit subdolus. - A ravasz Khilón tanította, hogy kell némán fingani. (6.kép)

Németh Attila

[cosmozoa-sys]

⋯ science themed id pack !!

names ⁘

matter ◎ element ◎ plasma ◎ acid ◎ atom ◎ ion ◎ spectra ◎ alkali ◎ catalyst ◎ chrome ◎ kelvin ◎ electra ◎ ether ◎ halogen ◎ osmos ◎ quark ◎ sagan ◎ valence ◎ archaea ◎ evo ◎ volt ◎ spore ◎ doppler ◎ entropy ◎ tesla

sagan: from Carl Sagan

pronouns ⁘

Fe/iron (or any element) ◎ chem/chemistry ◎ volt/volts ◎ bio/biology ◎ atom/atoms ◎ photon/photons ◎ nu/nuclear ◎ evo/evolve ◎ cell/cells ◎ ribo/ribosome ◎ RNA/DNA ◎ ion/ions ◎ grav/gravity ◎ wave/waves ◎ mi/microbe

titles ⁘

The Modern-Day Alchemist ◎ The Collapse ◎ The Architect of Life ◎ (prn) With Entropy in (prns) Hands ◎ The Nucleus ◎ Absolute Zero

system names ⁘

the biosphere ◎ the chemical orchestra ◎ the fungal spores ◎ the periodic table ◎ the solar system

This was more chemistry and biology themed, but I'll happily do your specific field if you'd like to request that! -Iris (she/her)

credits: 1 - 2

[freakartack]

If my memory serves me correct, you've shown us your take on Mona's parents and 5-Volt's hubby. Have you devised anything about the other parents? Like Kat and Ana's or 18-Volt's? I know we heard only snippets about those and 13-Amp's in canon...kinda. It's interesting how many gaps imagination could fill in when it comes to WarioWare.

Sure have! Ashley's, too. And Wario's mom. And Spitz's dad, although I never actually showed my design of him because it's kind of underwhelming. I also have Dribble's extended family rattling around in my head too (similarly underwhelming because it's just a bunch of dogs). Really I just find it fun to take cartoon characters whose family has been vaguely alluded to at best and fill in the blanks to explain why they're like that. It's like a coloring book. I haven't drawn Kat+Ana's or 18-volt's though...my take on Kat and Ana's parents needs more time in the oven, because 1) i feel like i need to get my finger more on the pulse of campy ninja movies before I can successfully pastiche them, and 2) I don't think I can top this bit from jan Misali's esteemed novella Wario Faces Consequences For His Actions:

I haven't drawn 18-volt's mom before, although I'd probably end up drawing her sooner than the twins only because I have a better handle on her situation. According to 18-volt's stage in Gay Man Wario, his mom is a lot less smothering than 5-volt and is instead rarely around, letting 18-volt play video games whenever he wants. He's clearly a latchkey kid with a single mom who works long hours to support them both, which is both sad and also on par with the rest of the lonely children of WarioWare. 18-volt has been sidelined for so long, but given the crazy deep cuts that Warioware throws out sometimes (e.g. cicada, the music box from WL3, the fact that 5-volt herself was hinted at all the way back in mega microgames), there is a non-zero chance, however slim, that we may one day see her for real. She deserves to have fun too!!

[cherryblogss]

Bom, galera venho dar uma notícia meio chatinha. Infelizmente, decidi dar uma pausa por tempo indeterminado em escrever/tumblr devido a vários fatores que vão desde bloqueios criativos até minha própria saúde mental. Sei que "prometi" o kinktober, mas não tá saindo nada e o que eu tenho de rascunho não me satisfaz. Fiquei muito decepcionada comigo, porque não consegui cumpri nenhuma meta que estipulei e acho que isso me afetou um pouco no geral, além de não ser totalmente culpa minha, já que quando anunciei não estava tão sobrecarregada☠️

Ultimamente não tenho me sentido feliz com a minha escrita e sei que isso é resultado de um cansaço extremo e pressão que tenho em ser melhor, mesmo que escrever nunca tenha sido meu forte. Também fico meio mal por não atender aos pedidos e não tenho me sentido motivada a escrever. E eu sei que a maioria aqui não quer ficar me vendo responder ask sobre coisas aleatórias e falar como quero mamar o pipe dez vezes por dia enquanto "ignoro" os pedidos de escrita.

Esse anúncio de pausa é algo que eu tenho adiado há muito tempo e faço agora porque realmente me sinto perdida, não está fazendo tanto sentido tentar por horas escrever e ficar distraída adiando coisas da minha carreira. De certa maneira, me sinto saciada pelo que já entreguei, querendo ou não tem muito conteúdo e quando vou escrever parece que tô repetindo a mesma coisa.

Agradeço muito a todxs que tornaram esses meses da minha vida melhor, me senti menos sozinha e pertencente a algo pela primeira vez na vida, mas é necessário tirar esse tempo pra me cuidar. Eu fiquei muito ocupada com uns projetos da minha vida profissional e quando eu chego em casa não quero ficar olhando para uma tela, eu já trabalho com isso o dia inteiro e tô sentindo o prejuízo de me forçar a interagir ao ponto que fico com a cabeça latejando até dormindo. Talvez eu volte daqui a uma semana quando eu ficar mais "aliviada" da minha carga de trabalhos ou quando me sentir melhor, mas por agora tô com zero ânimo😔

Peço desculpas pelas asks que não respondi ainda, mas quando eu "voltar" vou tentar organizar tudo com calma💜Fico muito feliz que "criei" esse espaço que surtamos e conversamos sobre qualquer coisa e sinto muito por me distanciar. Não se preocupem que não é um adeus definitivo🫶🏻

beijão, cherry

eu👇🏻

[mangotangerine]

concept: canonverse, vox fucks up somebody with some sort of organic spores, which then explode and get into his electronics, and start fucking him up and corrupting him. cue alastor finding him in a trash can and trying to figure out the mystery. it ends up becoming some sci-fi thing where vox is stuck in a post-apocalyptic projection in his "mind" where he hallucinates a relationship with alastor and then he wakes up and finds out none of it is real.

ANYWAY

this is the start. who knows if i will ever finish this.

below the cut!

vox gets stuck in a sci-fi projection & has to escape a post-apocalyptic world (prologue)

“Do androids dream of electric sheep?”

The first time he’d been asked, he had engaged the sinner in conversation—honestly, it was a fascinating question. The expression on the sinner’s face, though, as Vox answered, tripped from amicable joking into mocking amusement, and Vox does not like being mocked.

A few thousand volts into the newly-minted sinner’s demon body had taken care of that problem, the garbled shriek of, “It’s a fucking book!” an announcement to all nearby that Vox didn’t get the reference.

“Really?” Alastor had asked, disdain coloring his voice, because of course he’d been passing by—he’s always there at the most inopportune times. The world’s most obnoxious stalker. “I know you’re incapable of reading, but taking out the frustration of your illiteracy on innocent new denizens of Pentagram City won’t net you the positive reputation you’re trying to garner.”

“Get fucked,” Vox had spit. Alastor reacted the way he always did, a theatrical look around the public and a gesture toward Vox, as if to say, ‘can you believe how much of a loser this circus clown is?’ Vox wanted to say something else, snap back something smart and humiliating for the asshole, but Alastor had just shrugged and stepped over the smoldering double-dead body and carried on his merry way before Vox could find the words.

×

The second, third, fourth, and so on, times that he’d been asked the same question, he’d just responded with an eyeroll and a dismissive scoff. He’d read the book, eventually—he could read, after all—and had been disappointed to find out the book was just some boring sci-fi novel that had been adapted into an even more boring movie. Who gives a shit about sci-fi when he’s literally sci-non-fi?

×

The five-hundred-and-thirty-second time he’d been asked is the reason he’s in the fucking predicament he is right now. He’d barely glanced at the obnoxious motherfucker who’d asked, but the sinner’s tone was so self-satisfied it had offended Vox. He didn’t even need to look at the creature to send the electricity running through his body.

It had been a mistake. If he had looked over, he might’ve seen the odd little floating spores that surrounded him. Not that he’d have known what they were—but at least he might’ve been intrigued enough not to ignite whatever the fuck that radioactive-looking dust mote type shit was.

The hiss-buzz-snap of electricity arcing through the air was quickly followed by a strange pop-pop-pop, like muffled drumbeats, and then the air itself caught fire. He remembers thinking, fuck, the reboot’s going to be a bitch, before whatever it was hit him full-on—he was ground zero in the fucking blast zone, after all—and then there was nothing.

Something must have really fucked up the hard drive, because normally when his body suffers injuries, his electronic brain still works. Yeah, he’d be disembodied, isolated from himself while his physical form knit itself back together, but he was still there.

This time, though, he wakes up. “How long was I out?” is the first question he asks, because he never wakes up. Waking up isn’t a thing that happens to him. The only other times he’s woken up have been 1) when he first arrived in this shithole, and 2) the few times Alastor had put him back together again, early on, back when they had been friends and before Vox had created this new body.

The only person nearby is his assistant, which is annoying. He’d thought Valentino would care just a little, but he’s probably distracted by that fucking whore spider.

“Um—um, a… a few weeks, sir,” his assistant says hesitantly.

Vox sits up and the instant vertigo makes him feel like he’s going to vomit. The feeling is just as bizarre as being told he’d woken up after multiple weeks. He doesn’t vomit—he’s not even sure he can—and he’s never been dizzy before, not since he landed down here. It’s unnerving.

“What do you mean a few weeks?” Vox snaps, pressing a hand to the side of his head.

His assistant cringes, holding up the tablet he always carries with him as some sort of shield. When it becomes clear Vox isn’t going to murder him—if he had wanted to, the fucking VoxTek tablet wasn’t going to stop him—his assistant lowers the tablet. “It’s been, uh, seventeen days,” he says, voice timid.

Seventeen days. “What?” he asks. He’s too stunned to be mad about it. That has to be wrong. His lack of anger seems to scare his assistant even more and he scoots back a few feet in the rolling chair. Rolling chair? Vox looks around; he doesn’t recognize where he is. “Where the fuck am I?”

It’s like some creepy, decrepit office, complete with a threadbare, moth-eaten rug over scraped-up linoleum, the wood-paneled walls warped and stained with water damage. He glances down to see what he’s sitting on and wonders why there’s a fucking gurney in here, something like from one of those looney bins he’d sent his mother to up-top. His assistant isn’t answering him, just stares at him with wide eyes a few feet away.

“Where the fuck am I?” Vox repeats. He goes to stand, to swing his legs down off the gurney, but his body buzzes with something that smells an awful lot like lightning and his screen glitches, static skittering down the side of his body. “What the fuck?!” The door opens—he hadn’t noticed a door, had there been a door? There must have been—and in steps the last fucking person he ever wants to see. “You let this anachronistic radio freak kidnap me?” he asks his assistant. He feels betrayed, almost.

His assistant cringes, and Alastor sighs. “What was he going to do?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “Fight me? Me, the Radio Demon?”

“He could’ve gotten Valentino! Valentino could’ve fucking helped, or even fucking Velvette, you know, somebody who isn’t going to fuck me over the second I’m out of commission?”

Alastor gives him a curious look from where he stands in the doorway. “Interesting,” he says, then steps inside, “that you’d think they wouldn’t ‘fuck you over.’”

“I bet they’re looking for me right now. They’re going to kick your stupid furry ass the second they find out you’re hiding me away in this creepy fucking… dungeon. Place. Where am I?”

“The hotel!” Alastor says, sounding more cheerful than Vox thinks is appropriate. “One of the horror-themed rooms. Charlie’s so boring sometimes, you know? Wanted to make everything modern and updated. Themed hotels are fun! Everyone loves themed entertainment. She gave me a floor, at least, to do with what I wished.”

“This isn’t fun, this is horrific,” Vox argues.

“Exactly! Regardless—you’ve been tossed away. Thrown out like the garbage you are,” Alastor says cheerily. He shoves Vox’s assistant off the chair he’d been occupying and sits down in it himself, crossing his legs and leaning back to eye Vox.

“I don’t believe you,” Vox says.

Alastor shrugs. “Fine. Go out and see,” he says, as if he isn’t fully aware Vox’s body isn’t working properly right now. He waits for Vox’s resigned scoff to continue. “I found you in the dumpster,” he explains. “At first, I thought, what a great new home! Very fitting. Then I poked around a bit and figured out you’re still using some of the original technology I bequeathed to you, and I got a bit upset. You’re a work of art, Vox—at least, the parts of you that are still original—and though most of your façade is now disgusting, shiny, and new, and does belong in the trash… well. I got a bit irritated. So I rescued you!”

“You rescued me,” Vox says, voice flat. “And are now holding me hostage, and what did you do to me? I can’t—nothing fucking works right.”

“Ah, yes, there is that,” Alastor says, cocking his head as his eyes rove down Vox’s body. “That particular mystery, I am still trying to figure out. Your loyal assistant was unfortunately unable to tell me what embarrassing thing you did to get yourself all discombobulated in the first place, so I’ve been doing some reconnaissance. Very fun, you know. It’s been a while since I’ve gone and played Sherlock.”

“You’re a shit Sherlock,” Vox spits. “Seventeen days and you haven’t figured it out?”

“I didn’t find you in the trash until five days ago,” Alastor says, smile twisting into something more darkly amused. “People had taken advantage, stolen some of your more obnoxious… elements. Like that hideous coat, and your stupid little hat.”

Vox’s hands fly to his head immediately and he swears. “My hat,” he wails. “That had—that had my antennas!”

“Old models, very disappointing,” Alastor says with a sigh. “I did some renovations. Improved upon the original design. Cracked your ugly plastic head open to install internal antennas, and found some very interesting things. I haven’t solved the mystery at hand, yet, but I have a feeling the plants growing inside your casing have something to do with it!”

“The—what? I don’t have fucking plants inside my head!”

Alastor tuts, shaking his head. “See, I didn’t see them at first either, because they’re fascinatingly good at blending in with your other wiring. If I wasn’t so well-acquainted with that part of you, I might’ve been fooled. Look, I took pictures!”

He pulls from his pocket a handful of Polaroid photos and displays them for Vox. Most of them are blurry and comically over-or-under-exposed, though there are a couple that are miraculously not completely useless. Vox picks one up, grimacing at the fact he’s willingly interacting with analog technology.

Vox squints at the photo, tilting it this way and that before he remembers he can just fucking scan it and enhance it that way. Except for he can’t, and when he tries, something shorts out and he loses vision in his left eye—which means the left half of his screen has also gone dark.

“Oh!” Alastor says, sounding delighted. “How unusual. On one half, your screen displays your grumpy little face, and on the other, those lovely color bars. A much-needed improvement, if I say so myself.”

“Fuck,” Vox hisses. “Your stupid fucking photography skills are atrocious, and I can’t even scan and enhance the goddamn photos—a basic task—without my screen shorting out?”

“I, um—I took some photos as well,” Vox’s assistant says, holding up the tablet. “Digital… digital ones.”

“Thank fucking god,” Vox groans, holding out a hand for the tablet. His assistant passes it over, photos pulled up, and Vox stares at it. It’s jarring enough to see his head cracked open, back panel removed—and fuck Alastor for still knowing how to do that—but the sleek, dark green tendrils snaking their way through the mechanics in back are obvious as anything to Vox. He swipes through photos, stops at something up close and squints, zooming in. “There’s moss growing in my ports.”

“Yes,” Alastor says. “If we’re lucky, the plants will completely take over your plastic casing and rid us of you entirely sooner rather than later. The moss is very soft, by the way. I sprinkled some plant food in there, just in case it got hungry.”

Vox sets the tablet aside and stares down at his hands. He is an abomination of electronics and biological components fused together. If there are plants growing in his head, that means there are plants growing in other places, too. “What do I do?” he asks, sounding a little lost. He looks up at Alastor and scowls at the bewildered look he finds.

“What on Earth—excuse me, what in Hell—are you asking me for?” Alastor asks. “My answer is the same as it’s always been—do us all a favor and delete yourself from existence. You do nothing but make Pentagram City worse.”

“You’d miss me,” Vox mutters. Alastor very pointedly does not respond, just peers at his gloves with interest. “Well, I’ve got to… I’ve got to do something.”

“What, pray-tell, are you planning on?” Alastor asks. He gets bored of the chair, finding himself irritated at the fact Vox sits taller than him on the gurney, so he hops up on a desk he summons up underneath him. He kicks his feet absentmindedly, cocking his head to the side. “You can’t walk. You can’t do basic tasks. It took until I cleared those plants out of your head for you to wake up again, and they’re just going to grow back. And you don’t even know what you did, dear Vox.”

“What makes you think I did something?” Vox snaps, glaring.

Alastor sighs, leaning back on his hands. “Why else would anything be happening? I hardly believe somebody would go to the trouble of growing a terrarium inside your empty shell for fun. You have to have done something to warrant somebody going through any amount of effort to interact with you.”

Vox glares some more, crossing his arms in front of him like a petulant toddler. Alastor just raises an eyebrow, waiting. It doesn’t take long for Vox to cave. “The last thing I remember is murdering some plant-looking motherfucker who asked me that stupid book title question.”

“How disappointing,” Alastor drawls. “Eeliot, do you have any idea?”

“Who the fuck is Eeliot?” Vox asks, digital eyebrows furrowed, and Alastor gives him a pitying look.

“Your assistant,” Alastor says, distaste dripping from his words. “The lovely little lad who helped save you. God knows why, you treat him terribly. Maybe he has a crush on you! Oh, that would be fun, wouldn’t it. Do you have a crush on him, Eeliot?” Alastor asks. He knows the answer, it’s clear he does in his predatory grin. Eeliot shrinks in on himself, covering his blushing face with the tablet.

“Jesus Christ,” Vox groans.

“Sorry,” Eeliot mutters, and Alastor laughs.

“He’s only got eyes for one fellow, my dear sinner, and although the fellow he’s got eyes for is in this room, it is unfortunately not you. Trust me, I would rather it was,” Alastor says, turning his sharp gaze on Vox. “Isn’t that right, Vox? Still pathetically obsessed with me.”

“I got over you,” Vox snaps. He’d blush if it was anatomically possible, but it’s not. Alastor laughs in disbelief, something mocking and cruel, but Vox doesn’t engage further.

“Well,” Alastor says, hopping off the desk. “I’ll leave your Prince Charming here to play nursemaid a little longer. I’ve got a date with Rosie—”

“You’re just leaving me here?!” Vox asks, incredulous. Alastor twirls his microphone in his hand, watching Vox for a long moment.

“Would you like to come along?” Alastor asks. “I could summon you a wheelchair. Ooh, yes, that might be fun, actually. A showcase of how far one can fall, if they’re not careful.”

Vox scoffs, turning his head to look at the wall instead of Alastor.

“Hmm, fine,” Alastor says. “Your loss. Anyway, I’m going to ask Rosie a few things, maybe stop by Zestial’s and see if he has any idea. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but it irks me that I cannot figure out what’s wrong with you. Goodbye!”

Before Vox can respond, Alastor is gone. He doesn’t even use the door.

Vox’s assistant stares down at the tablet, refusing to make eye contact with his boss.

“Really?” Vox asks. “Me?” Eeliot shrugs, wordless, and Vox groans and flops back on his gurney. Nothing left to do but wait. He listens to his assistant breathe, the tapping of fingers on the tablet, and lulls himself into sleep mode. Odd, he thought he had disabled that feature.

[raccontidialiantis]

Il fondo, in fondo…

Si: te lo dicono tutti. Tutti quelli pieni di buonsenso. Ma intanto adesso senti un chiodo al costato. Però alla fine, quando pure questa sarà passata avrai avuto l'ennesima conferma che la vita non è altro che una serie lunghissima di dune: arrivato in cima alla prossima a costo di duri sacrifici, ti senti padrone del mondo. Quello è proprio il momento in cui tutto viene rimesso in discussione e inizi a precipitare. Nuovamente. A volte di colpo, altre lentamente. Sino a toccare il fondo.

E lì il luogo comune direbbe che c'è ancora dinamica per… scavare. Non è così: toccare il fondo è ciò che ti fa riscoprire quello che vale davvero. Ciò che ti mantiene umile e discrimina le persone e i valori davvero importanti per te. Toccare il fondo vuol dire fare un bagno nell’umiltà e piegare le gambe per darti una bella spinta, in modo da tornare a galla. Non esiste nessuno che veramente viva quella che comunemente si definisce una bella vita. Esistono solo prove differenti per ciascuna anima.

È un percorso di crescita diverso per ciascuno e tutti studiamo con impegno, all'Università della Terra. Non c'è una durata standard del piano di studi a cui fare riferimento, né una qualche garanzia di risultato. Non puoi comprarti un esame né scegliere l'appello. O le materie, i professori. Ti arriva la prossima prova davanti ai piedi come un pacco che devi scartare e ne sei sempre spiazzato.

Te lo fanno apposta: per vedere come reagisci. Se fossi preparato infatti, significherebbe che già ci sei passato, già coosci il risultato del test e quindi avrebbe valore zero, per il punteggio dell'anima. A volte ti fanno arrivare un regalo: che serve a non farti scoraggiare, a vederti sorridere. A rilassare il tuo percorso per un po'.

Ma non è così che cresci; non è così che provi sensazioni, emozioni. Odio, amore, paura, desiderio, passione, attrazione, disperazione, resurrezione. E poi lacrime, sorrisi, risate e grida di dolore soffocate o urlate: tutti veri e propri tesori, racchiusi nella dinamica e nei battiti del tuo cuore.

Perché forse l'hai scordato, o forse nessuno qui te l'ha ancora detto: tu sei una fonte di luce. Un diamante inscalfibile, un pezzetto di un'energia senza tempo né spazio. Un umile fante dell'esercito della luce che qui sulla Terra cerca gli elementi utili per tornare a casa, prima o poi.

L'avrai letto, da qualche parte: non sei un corpo che ha un'anima, ma un'anima a cui è dato un corpo per una breve gita su questo mondo. E poi ancora e ancora. Goditela. Sii presente a te stesso e compi le scelte che ti sembreranno più giuste, in buona fede. Nel bene e nel male. E soprattutto non dimenticarti dell'amore, che nei momenti bui ti salva.

Amore dichiarato, amore contrastato, amore impossibile, amore segreto, amore indecente, amore per i figli, amore per la vita che infine ti sfugge di mano: non esiste amore che non valga la pena vivere. E rispettare. Facci caso: anche dopo una storia finita male, non esiste nessuno che comunque non ringrazi Iddio. Tu non farai certo eccezione, col tuo bellissimo sorriso amaro di oggi. Me lo fai un sorriso, si?

RDA