#The Gladiatorial Arena

[brother-emperors]

It's a little terrifying that you seem to have willed Gladiator II's Geta and Caracalla into existence

wheezing I wish I had this kind of power so that I could will a Ridley Scott Caligula movie into existence

[takenoprizners]

Peds to pecs_2

[evilkitten3]

Quick question

"my problematic trait is that tbh i think you guys should all be killing each other for my amusement"

What was that abt ? Do u support israel or us that supposed to be a joke? It's realy uncomfortable

this is quite possibly the most unhinged ask i've ever gotten and i've been told to kill myself multiple times

[defira85]

Frantically googling "do drow understand the concept of goosebumps" "do drow have a word for goosebumps" "do drow know what geese are" because I bring only the FINEST QUALITY to my smut fics

[transingthoseformers]

Marvel G1 Shattered Glass: Perhaps Tarn's champion gladiator Megatron becomes Shockwave's bodyguard.

(Not sure if SG Megatron would become a gladiator, though in Marvel G1 it was ritualized combat and not a real fight. Also not sure why they'd take their best gladiator out of the arena)

Oooo? That would be fascinating, especially if you're going the ritualized combat route (have I thought about gladiator!SG Megatron before? Yes. But there's always a million and ten directions to go)

[zestinator5000]

Thinking about how Maxwell being able to very briefly summon his shadows while in the forge implies he actually did develop some magical abilities and isn’t fully reliant upon the codex for his shadows but definitely requires it if he wants more refined shadows

[chiropteracupola]

ANOTHER BIRD HAS ENTERED THE TERRITORY OF MY PERSONAL NEST! QUICK, WE MUST HAVE AN ACADEMIC DEBATE ON THE NATURE OF ART!

[radioactivepeasant]

Surprise: Free Day Thursday Part Three!

Part One, Part Two

Yes, it's all out of order. But honestly that's kind of by design. See, I've got this idea of the story opening with Samos delivering a prologue, as he usually does. It's very much a statement by an unreliable narrator. And then you'd see what was happening in Spargus and think "wait, this doesn't match up". And then it would go back and forth between game stuff and how Jak got to the Wasteland.

So first Samos would provide a recap of Jak II. Then he'd say something like,

"But, sensing the weakness of our defenses, a ruthless warlord appeared from the Wastes. The dreaded Dune-Wolf, as efficient as he is deadly. He made only one demand: "Give up the Dark Warrior, or we will tear your city apart, beginning with this man we caught scouting around our camp."

But the man was the leader of the city militia, the right hand man of the governor herself. What choice did that leave us? With an innocent man's life in the balance -- to say nothing of the city -- Jak had no alternative but to accept the Dune-Wolf's terms. On the day of the exchange, the governor slipped a dagger into Jak's boot, where the Wastelanders would not find it, so that at least he would not be helpless. It has been many months now since that fateful day, but I have faith that Jak will gather his strength and escape that barren desert, to return to us once more."

And then it would cut to Spargus:

Daxter clung to the exterior of the tower, finding handholds no human would ever have been capable of. Swiftly and quietly, he scaled the rain-slick wall to slide through a window too narrow for most. Once inside, he shook water from his fur and beckoned to the figure crouched by the wall.

"Coast is clear, Jak." Daxter gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "We'll have to climb down clockwise to avoid the guards, but then it's a straight shot to the elevator."

"Nice work." Jak held out a fist to bump against Daxter's.

He pulled his goggles down over his face and gripped the edges of the sill.

"This is it, Dax. We're getting out of here."

With a crackle, dark eco washed over his body, radiating from the lichtenberg patterns across his chest and arms. Jak's dark form didn't care about whether a space was "too small". He could fit anywhere as long as he could get his head through. With a scrape and a few very unsettling pops, he squeezed out of the window and dug his claws into the wall. Daxter slid out after him and dropped to his shoulder. Then the escape was underway.

Humans were not supposed to be able to cling to vertical surfaces like lizards. But then, Jak had never really been one for obeying conventional ideas of what humans were supposed to be able to do. He crept down the tower, following the clockwise path Daxter pointed out to him. After about two more levels, the walls would become sheer metal, and they would run out of handholds. They would have to switch to indoors then -- provided Jak's dark eco didn't run out and cause them to fall to their deaths.

The window in the pump room had been left open. This would have been suspiciously convenient in most cases, but the rain brought cooler air, and open windows were to be found all across the city to take advantage of it. Jak shimmied in through the foot-wide space and hopped lightly down over pipes and gears. They would have to be careful here: one wrong move could damage the water filtration system and cause problems for a lot of innocent people. Jak eased up beside the open doorway and craned his neck to check the hall.

Perfect.

Taking advantage of the pump room's noise to drown out his grunt of pain, Jak let the dark eco subside, drawing it back into his core.

"Alright Dax, which way?" he whispered.

"Left. Er, my left- not yours. Stick to the ceiling when we get to the hall with the monks. After that it's just two antechambers to the way out."

Moving from room to room in almost complete silence, they met no resistance. Of course, they'd long since learned to avoid the traps hidden under the engraved floor tiles, and Jak put the ease of their journey down to experience.

Daxter wasn't so sure. Something felt...off.

The elevator -- the only true exit from the fortified tower -- sat at the edge of a carefully maintained indoor oasis. It had the rare quality of being both beautiful and strangely threatening -- like Tess, Daxter sometimes joked. Much of this was due to the vast dais sitting opposite the lift. Two braziers fastened to rough stone pillars provided the only illumination that didn't come from the window behind the dais, and what natural light there was had to filter through dozens of small date palms. Between the trees and huge carving set behind the throne, there were far too many shadowy places for an enemy to hide.

Jak was going to take full advantage of that.

Hopping from rock to rock, he deftly avoided the streams to make it to the wooden frame of the simple moving platform. He would have to be quick: pulling back the lever to call the platform up was going to make a lot of noise. The second the bar around the lever locked into place with a loud clank, Jak grabbed Daxter and darted into the shadows between two palms to hide in case someone came to investigate.

He had scarcely turned around when he realized someone was already standing where he had just been. How had he missed them?!

Broad shoulders, heavy bracers, otherwise slight build. This wouldn't be an easy fight if it was who Jak suspected it was. But they were the last obstacle between Jak and freedom, and he'd come too far to back down now.

The person turned as Jak left the trees, and firelight caught on glimmering shards of Precursor metal, set into his skull.

Ah. Of course.

"Dune-Wolf," Jak greeted the warrior casually.

"Escapee," the Dune-Wolf returned.

"Can't keep me here forever, Dune-Wolf," Jak challenged, stepping in a careful circle around the man.

"It's the middle of the storm season, of course I can," the warlord scoffed.

Daxter shook out his arms and took a ready stance at Jak's side. "Better hope you locked the front gate, pal, because we're outta here!"

King Damas raised a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. "Are you now? I wouldn't be so sure of that."

He shifted one foot back, and raised his staff. "You will not set one foot past me."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jak retorted, and he charged.

The faint sting of old bruises reminded him to jump -- Damas liked sweeping his opponents' legs out from under them -- and he used his momentum to sail over the staff and land to the king's left. His feet had barely made contact with the floor before Damas’s own momentum caught up to him. Damas followed his swing through by pivoting and catching Jak across the midsection with the staff. Jak flew backwards into one of the streams with the wind knocked out of him.

Daxter ducked the staff with a screech and actually leaped up onto it. He clung for dear life while Damas paused in an attempt to shake him off before shrugging and picking him up by the scruff of the neck. Jak surged out of the water like a sea monster to grasp the staff and try to pull it from Damas’s hands. Forced to choose which opponent to focus on, Damas released Daxter just in time for Jak to finally wrest the staff from his fingers and toss it across the room.

"Nice try," Jak panted, and dug in his heels as the two matched grips.

For a moment, neither gave way, but ultimately, Damas had the advantage of size.

He shifted stance for one instant and swept Jak's feet out from under him. Jak landed hard, and before he could get his elbows under him, a hand came down on the back of his neck, anchoring him in place. Jak froze, well accustomed by now to the irritating consequences of failure. Damas crouched beside him, and when Jak strained his eyes to get a look at the king, he was smirking.

"Nice try," he echoed. He let go and stood back to let Jak sit up. "I told you, you can't get past me."

Jak bent slightly to catch his breath, begrudgingly admitting defeat. But then he grinned and pointed past Damas.

"Then who's in the elevator?"

Damas whirled to see Daxter, waving at him from inside. Going for the staff had been a ploy: Jak had never intended to win the fight.

"Got past you this time, Dune-Wolf. A deal's a deal," Daxter crowed.

Jak mirrored his cocky grin.

"We got past you, so you have to let me take my last Arena trial before winter."

Damas grumbled good-naturedly and shook his head. "Why did I ever let you talk me into that?"

He leaned down and pulled Jak to his feet in a single motion.

"I probably should have specified that you both had to get past me. That's on me."

"Buuut," Jak pointed out, "you didn't specify. C'mon, Dune-Wolf, pay up."

"Don't call me Dune-Wolf," Damas sighed -- for the umpteenth time -- "enemies call me Dune-Wolf. Soldiers call me Dune-Wolf. You don't."

Jak flashed a cheeky grin at him. "Sure, sure, Damas."

Daxter could have sworn the warlord's eye twitched just a little.

"Alright, now you're just being impudent." Damas tweaked Jak’s ear. "It's either father, or dad to you."

Jak batted his hand away and rolled his eyes. "Man, I haven't had a father in twelve years! I'm not used to being someone's kid!"

It was truly a mark of progress that Damas didn’t respond to statement with a dampening of his mood, or a wince. Instead, he wrestled Jak into a playful headlock and scrubbed his knuckles across the boy’s scalp.

"Yeah? Well you live here, so you better start getting used to it!"

Jak snorted and tried to break free, but admittedly he was at an awkward angle and Damas did still have a height advantage.

"Ack! Leggo!"

"What? Put you upside down, you said?" Damas teased.

It wasn't an idle threat, that was how the last spar had ended.

"Okay okay!" Jak laughed and smacked Damas’s arm. "I yield! Let up, Dad!"

Damas eased his grip immediately, slackening the hold into a loose arm around Jak’s shoulders. "You did good, cub," he said warmly, "You're ready for the last trial."

"Told you we were!" Daxter chirped. "C'mon Jak, the sooner you get your zoomies out on the Playground of Death, the sooner we get to vote!"

"Aht! Breakfast first!"

Damas shifted one heel, and the next thing Daxter knew a foot had come out of nowhere to scoop him out of the elevator and up into the air. Jak caught him with a truncated curse and fumbled to set him on his shoulders.

"But we already ate!" He protested.

"We ate six raisins and a roll," Daxter tattled, "Lead the way, Mr. The Dad."

[jestiamy]

trying to figure out my designs for different characters (like. three weeks ago. kind of late to the post here.) + some oc art under cut because having fandom ocs makes me feel embarrassed for some reason

design notes : they've got. scales on their arms (kind of hard to see) and also on their face sometimes but he mostly prefers to hide that. the horns actually are meant to look more like the head but I accidentally made them seemed forked (which, while cool, is not how their horns look 9/10 times.) and yeah I think that's it maybe

[bug-oc]

how many dead?

none i fucking hope

[oldfritz]

I want swifties to go to war with the beyhive. I do I really do. why? I love senseless, bloodless carnage

[sapphicauntie]

something something movie Knux in the Battle Nexus

[citrusreadstoa]

Reading The Dark Prophecy: Chapter 25 (SPOILERS)

"Big birds are evil / They charge me with razor legs" Are the ostriches back? :D?

"Frenzied young women threw their strophiae at me." Holy fuck, that's an ancient type of bra. This is still a kids' book?

"six combat ostriches" The big birds.

"The demigods of Commodus's Imperial Household" They're like Meg, basically? I wonder if any effort will be made to free them or turn them to their side. "And, predictably, an entire section of the stands was filled with wild centaurs." Fifteen bucks they're not even working for or with the Triumvirate. They're just here for the show. Are they Party Ponies or just centaurs? "They blew their vuvuzelas" VUVUZELA (n.): a long horn blown by fans at soccer matches in South Africa Google also notes that the name is trademarked in the UK. I think they are Party Ponies due to the party supplies mentioned. Guess they're chaotic neutral. They'll go anywhere a bloodbath is promised, no matter if it's the good or bad side. I can get behind that lifestyle.

"glimpse of a golden-brown racing suit." Again, what kind of race is this going to be? I see no cars or chariots or horses. Best I can guess is they're going to race on the ostriches, but idk if they can handle the weight of a person and still run. Wasn't there a war fought against them once in Australia? No, that was emus. Are ostriches just as vicious?

"This was exactly the sort of welcome I'd been longing for." Yayyyyy. Clap clap clap. Meg. What have you led yourself and Apollo into? You did not need to check this out. You could've just left! Wait a minute, was the audience just sitting there hoping these two would show up? What was their plan B if they didn't? Nah, Commodus doesn't strike me as the type to have a plan B.

"I wondered if she might have betrayed me once again" Yeah, I thought that for a second too, but it would've been ridiculous to stage all those fights with Lit and the sea serpent just to get them here. She didn't do this on purpose.

"This is just the dress rehearsal" This is the dress rehearsal??? If this is the rehearsal, then the real event is going to be a waking nightmare! Does Commodus... does he have eyes? Can he SEE the monstrosity that is before him? I guess his advisors were too scared to tell him to tone it down a notch. Or maybe they did and they're six feet under now.

"You're next. But Meg couldn't have known about that... could she?" Yeah, no. That's a coincidence.

"My throat made the sound of a vuvuzela." Sorry, I couldn't keep a straight face at that. Anyway, I bet the Dark Oracle told him something vague and he immediately interpreted that as I should rename the city and set up the worlds biggest eyesore. "Not me personally." Whoever he sent definitely just told him what he wanted to hear 'cause if they said anything else, they'd be beheaded.

"revealing a one-piece racing suit of Nemean Lion hide" Hey, it respawned! "Indy-Colt-500-Double-A Gladiatorial Championship" Four words or less. Any respectable sporting event should be named with four words or less. The only comprehensible words in that title were "Gladiatorial Championship." Try "Commodianapolis Gladiatorial Championship" or "National Gladiatorial Championship" or even "Ultimate Gladiatorial Championship" instead. Literally anything else.

"Three Formula One race cars" Oh, this is a car race. Huh. I was kinda hoping for superstrength ostriches.

Exotic animals, gladiators, race cars, reverb country music, and monstrous audience members in a football stadium... This is the sporting event equivalent of a crackfic. Even the name of the event... Commodus, you've made a real-life crackfic. What do you have to say for yourself? No, I don't want to hear it.

"I raced after her, the Throne of Mnemosyne" NO, he still has the chair on his back! "a new death haiku" Ayo the title! "Basketballs ex machina." Literally.

"[Meg] grabbed one's neck and swung onto its back" Hey, so they can at least hold a small human. "her plan: kill Commodus." Can they still be killed? Idk how far along the Triumviratees have come with the god-emperor thing. I'd hate for them to get so close to taking down 1/3 only to find out they don't have the necessary whatever-it-is-you-need-to-kill-a-god-emperor.

"Southbound Pachyderm." PACHYDERM (n.): a very large mammal with thick skin, especially an elephant, rhinoceros, or hippopotamus

"I smashed him in the face with my combat ukulele." So that's what the combat part is. It doubles as a club. Nice.

"a late-night road trip in search of vindaloo" VINDALOO (n.): a highly spiced hot Indian curry You could probably find that at a restaurant, but I guess regular old mortal vindaloo isn't going to do it for you gods, huh? Istg Apollo goes on journeys in search of the most ridiculous things you could probably get to with a fifteen-minute car ride.

"Can you save him before he bursts into flames?" So we know it's not Leo.

"the karpos Peaches." NOOOO PEACHES IS GOING TO BURST INTO FLAMESSSSSSSS pls save him

[hakunonon]

it really cannot be overstated how ridiculous the arjuna alter boss fight is. it borders on hilarious, right up until you remember that this is going to be your problem to deal with.

like right from the moment you enter the mission your only support option is the npc karna.

“but that’s not so bad” you might think to yourself “he just got his big goku powerup moment, so he’s probably the best option i could hope for anyways, right?” and true he does have a whopping double damage bonus and an automatic guts charge, which is great! and then you look at arjuna’s laundry list of active effects and realise that with arjuna’s inherent 30% damage reduction karna will only be hitting for slightly more damage than usual - which doesn’t mean much in the face of arjuna’s million plus hit points spread across 3 break bars. no doubt you will also be further dismayed when arjuna proceeds to delete karna’s hp bar in one hit, popping the guts charge on turn 1, and reducing karna’s life expectancy to whenever arjuna so deigns to smack him again. then you’re left with just your own roster of the best servants and craft essences you could squeeze onto the team with the party deployment cost you were afforded. from there arjuna’s massive damage deletes most of your servants in one or two hits regardless of defence, with only invulns and evades to buy them an extra turn, foreigners’ class advantage lets them tank at most one extra hit, and the extra boss bullshit he gains with every bar you break only serves to expedite the already trivial process of puréeing your entire team faster than a jellyfish in a blender.

[fore-seer]

ive been skipping the cutscenes for this run so i can get those last supports as fast as possible but i will watch the chapter 6 ones. as a treat :)

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Local fanfic writer discovers that writing dialogue between two characters who are uncomfortable with each other is excruciating, because I feel like I need to go back a few lines and finesse what I've previously written to make it flow better - but the fact that it doesn't flow is the point, half of this fic is supposed to have the energy of pulling teeth to make small talk in a situation that you can't leave.