#inspiration Illusions and other Inconveniences

[zeldaelmo]

Uh, last line tag... Thank you @mistresslrigtar!

Maybe he should give her a not so subtle reminder.

From Inspiration, Illusions, and other Inconveniences, coming to you in August!

I tag @louwhose @aegon-targaryen @jdetan @theangelicstoryteller @nocturnalfandomartist @deiliamedlini @kazraza @michpat6 @sparklyhyperbole @linktheacehero !

[illcamp]

@zeldaelmo commissioned me this piece for her amazing fic "Inspiration, Illusions, and other Inconveniences" I enjoyed depicting the scene as much as reading her fic, thank you! ❤️

[jymwahuwu]

@esthercore So inspired by your fic!! Moze would really break into our home, wouldn't he? Our underwear expenses have increased 😹😹😹

Your panties keep disappearing. This is not an illusion. 5, 4…7? You didn't care at first, assuming you had left them somewhere. But this happens all the time. Every once in a while a few pairs of your panties disappear. With no other choice, you took advantage of the sale and bought a few more pairs of comfortable underwear of different styles to take home.

Maybe someone is stealing your underwear? Just the thought of it makes your skin crawl.

Following the TV show's example, you set up a simple device to check if someone has opened the cabinet, and double-checked that the doors and windows were locked.

You climbed into bed, clutching the quilt and sleeping, curled up.

Moze slipped into your room without a sound of footsteps. He glanced at you sleeping peacefully, then opened your cabinet as usual, spent half a minute picking out the cutest pair of underwear, and stuffed it into his pocket.

You moaned softly in your sleep, turning around to find a new sleeping position. He caressed your forehead and planted a kiss. Sometimes he wants to be honest with you, but he doesn't know how. He's used to living in dark places, fighting, and finding meaning in his life. He has not learned to be romantic and pursue someone who lives in the light like you.

You (get up in the morning and find that the alarm device has not been moved but one of the underwear has disappeared, and you are frightened into a cold sweat): ????? There is a ghost????????

You post on cosmic social media and quickly get hundreds of likes and comments from people telling you to be careful, doubting the veracity of things, and sharing their own stories. You sent this post to Moze.

You: :;(∩´﹏`∩);: Moze… There is a ghost in my house… What should I do?

Moze: ……

Moze: Maybe I could go to your house and protect you.

You: Really??? You are so nice. But won't it be inconvenient? You still have to work for General Feixiao

Moze: It's okay. I can take care of work. Let me stay at your house this month.

You: Thank you, you are a good person and I will award you the Xianzhou Top Ten Good Person Award˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Moze: ……

[jellys-compendium]

Plant Heat Headcanons

Millions Knives Edition

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Knives x F!Reader Cw: smut, heat cycles/plant heat, overstimulation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, breeding, orgasm control/denial, possessive and obsessive behaviour, dominance & submission, degradation, grinding, some religious symbolism (in Trimax Knives' portion). Word Count: ~3K A/n: A lovely person inquired about some Plant Heat Headcanons for Knives on my AO3 account. I was inspired, so here they are! Hope you enjoy them! 💜

Prefer to read on AO3?

Tristamp Knives

He is very aware of his heat and knows precisely what to expect and how to counteract it. Despite the physical symptoms that he suffers, Tristamp Knives only views this biological cycle of his as a minor inconvenience. He had always been prepared for it, overcoming the intense urges of his body with sheer willpower alone. Willpower alone had always been enough…until you came along.

Similar to Tristamp Vash’s heat, Tristamp Knives’ heat is also quite physically intense. His body aches and heats up to the point of fever. His razor sharp mind becomes slow and sluggish—obsessed and plagued with impulsive thoughts of grabbing you, ripping your clothes off, and pounding into your sweet cunt until you cry. He doesn’t quite care if he ends up doing it in front of an audience either.

Tristamp Knives’ plant markings glow exponentially brighter during this time, his fangs elongating to sharp points as his senses heighten. You become like a beacon of desire to him in this state. Tristamp Knives can sense your every breath, hear each beat of your heart, and smell the arousal that drips between your legs even across a distance. It’s infuriating for the prideful plant. It’s as if your lewd and tantalizing body were calling out to him—mocking him for his foolish attempts to control himself.

Eventually, Tristamp Knives does give in to his urges, but he holds fast and so desperately to that illusion of self-control. He dominates you physically and mentally, lording his strength, power, and superiority over you even if he’s the one moaning as he sinks his cock inside your tight walls.

Tristamp Knives’ stamina is unmatched. He can bring you to the brink of orgasm, only to then deny you and repeat the process. Tristamp Knives will do this over and over again until he has you sobbing and pathetically begging for release. He is in control. Not you, and not his heat. You will be the one praying to him, not the other way around.

I should also mention that Tristamp Knives’ cum and saliva acts like an aphrodisiac. This helps his partner keep up with him, but Tristamp Knives also uses this property of his fluids to torture, tease and taunt you. “Coming from just a little kiss? What a depraved little slut you are.”

Tristamp Knives’ iron will to stay in control is formidable, but it is not absolute. You can break him—forcing him to submit to his feral urges if you play your cards right. Put on a little show for him. Tease him by lewdly touching yourself, salaciously cry out your pleasure with rapture, fuck yourself shamelessly on his throbbing dick while chanting your devotion to him. If you can manage to rile up this control freak of a plant well enough, you’ll find yourself pinned to the nearest hard surface before you can blink. At that point all you’ll hear is Tristamp Knives’ feral growls in your ear before he starts to fuck you so hard you nearly pass out.

It’s a dangerous game that you’ve decided to play, but you’ll be damned if you’ll allow Knives to have free reign over every little part of you for a moment longer.

Yes, he is stronger, smarter, faster and infinitely more powerful than you--but at this very moment, as Knives denies you your orgasm for the third time in a row, you decide that those facts don’t matter. You have a hold over him too. A power so profound that he desperately tries to deny and curtail it, forcing you to submit and take what he gives you in an effort to hide his secret vulnerability.

No more. You’ll expose that nerve and grind it to dust.

Knives chuckles darkly as he removes his glistening fingers from your twitching cunt, plant markings pulsing an angelic blue as he pops his fingers into his mouth and savors your taste. 

“Couldn’t come in time, pet?” Knives taunts, those white fangs of his glistening as he elegently licks his fingers clean. 

“Pathetic.”

Your body is covered in sweat—exhausted and aching—but somehow you manage to muster your strength and reach forward to claw at Knives hips. The plant’s eyes widen with surprise, his breath leaving him in a choked gasp as you bury your fingernails into his flesh and swiftly pull his hips to yours. Knives moans, his hands slamming against the mattress on either side of your head, steadying himself while you bury his cock to the hilt in your eager pussy.

The ecstasy that flows through your body is unparalleled, and you mewl with abandon, arching against Knives’ burning skin as you come around his cock—hips grinding obscenely against his hardened flesh as your cunt milks him hungrily.

“Want you.” You gasp, breathless and delirious. Your gaze captures his own as your body rides out your orgasm sensually beneath him. Beckoning him. Breaking him.

“Please,” You whimper, body arching so that your lips brush sweetly against his perfect, pink mouth. 

“I want you, Nai.” You breathe against his lips. “I want you more than anyone else. I’m at the end of my rope, I’m aching for you. Please, fuck me. Please, please, please!!”

Knives is motionless above you, his eyes and body bathing your own in that ethereal blue glow. A moment of silence passes between the two of you, gazes locked in silent battle as your panting breaths fill the air.

Then a devious grin spreads across Knives’ face. The sight sends intoxicating shivers of anticipation down your spine. Like a predator, Knives leans down and whispers a dark and sensual promise in your ear.

“You want me, pet? Fine. Then I’ll give you everything you asked for.”

98 Knives

This stubborn plant tries to ignore his heat. 98 Knives is in complete denial and is the biggest brat about this biological cycle. He’s flushed? You’re seeing things. Had he been staring at you for too long? Only because he can't believe how ugly you are! Is he hard? Why the hell are you looking at his junk in the first place, pervert!?

Completely opposite to 98 Vash, 98 Knives tries his damndest to avoid you during his heat. On the surface, he wants nothing to do with you during this time and will actively leave the room whenever you enter. If you manage to touch him unguarded however, you swear you can hear him purr sensually under his breath.

Compared to his other counterparts, 98 Knives doesn’t go through the same physical changes during his heats. No fangs or distorted wings or glowing marks. However, 98 Knives is just as affected in terms of his sexual drive and he is in a constant state of horniness. He’s also super pissed about it.

98 Knives angrily jacks off every moment alone he can spare. It never fully relieves him though, and for the most part it only riles him up even more. 98 Knives’ head is always swimming with thoughts of you—both unbelievably aroused and severely irritated. How dare you cloud his mind like this? How dare you make his cock so hard? How dare you make him want you?

When he does finally submit to his heat, 98 Knives becomes the bossiest and brattiest little pillow princesses. This whining plant makes you do all the work while also growling his demands of what he wants from you through clenched teeth.

But rest assured, when you manage to edge 98 Knives just right—hitting that sweet spot of his with perfect precision—oh can you make that plant sing.

Knives groans, gritting his teeth as he arches beneath your hips. Those beautiful blue eyes of his squeeze tightly shut as he curses you under his breath. 

Ignoring his insult, your eyes linger on the straining muscles of Knives’ neck as he pathetically thrusts his cock against you. His leaking and throbbing glands just barely manages to breach the tight entrance of your pussy despite his best efforts.

“E-enough.” Knives rasps, fingernails scratching at the meat of your thighs—childish and demanding. Those wild eyes of his open again, pegging you with a petulant glare.

“Hurry up and sit on my cock, you idiot!”

Ah. He’s near his breaking point.

“Hmm, and what if I don’t? What if I leave you here aching and unsatisfied? It would be exactly what a brat like you deserves.”

The rage that flashes in Knives’ eyes lasts only a second. Quick as a flash you raise your hips, letting Knives’ cock slip from the warmth of your cunt. He growls, utterly livid as his dick lands pathetically on his navel with a wet slap. 

But before the tantruming plant can retaliate, you sit on his cock, harshly grinding your slick folds up and down his entire length. The breath explodes out of Knives’ lunges, as you grind your pussy along his length and his next words leave him with a pathetic whine.

“Th-that's not what I meant you disgusting, brutish—aaaahhhhh!”

You press your weight against his frenulum, grinding your clit mercilessly against that most sensitive spot of his—breaking him down piece by piece and smiling with satisfaction as Knives melts in your hands like butter.

He's such a whiny little thing.

The plant’s hips start to piston, his whimpering mewls now uncontrollable as he starts to grind against your sex. Knives' blue eyes glass over with lust as he stares at you with a mixture of hatred and need. Right now, you are at the epicenter of his world, and he hates that.

“Beg me,” You whisper teasingly with a smile. “Beg me to fuck you. Do it nicely and I’ll give you what you want.”

Knives’ teeth clench, his expression a conflicted storm. But in the end, the plant's lustful need supersedes his pride. Releasing a huff of air, Millions Knives swallows and then whispers oh so sweetly.

“Fuck me, pet. Please.”

Trimax Knives

Trimax Knives regards the period of his heat with virulent disdain. To him it is a primitive mechanism of survival derived from the disgusting remnants of the human DNA that poisons his every cell. Among many things, Trimax Knives detests his heat.

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) for you however, your touch he does not detest.

Similar to his brother, Trimax Knives also goes through a lot of physical changes and a significant amount of pain during his heat. At the peak of his heat, razor sharp, almost crystalline wings involuntarily tear outwards from beneath his skin. His eyes glass over to a milky bluish white, and his fangs practically double in size. Each fang is razor sharp, easily capable of tearing anyone limb from limb. Trimax Knives is exceptionally beautiful in this form, but he is also dangerously aggressive.

Trimax Knives is possessive, and obsessive on a good day. In the midst of his heat however? Those tendencies of his magnify tenfold. Once his heat hits, the vastness of Knives’ mind becomes singularly fixated on you. Your scent, your soft skin, the sound of your voice, the beating of your heart. Every aspect of you is impossible for Knives to ignore. He wants to claim you, mark you, and fuck you until you are begging for mercy.

The compulsive and feverish thoughts of breeding you—of mating with you so thoroughly and completely that he gets you pregnant—nearly drives Trimax Knives to the brink of insanity. It’s not necessarily because he wants offspring (honestly even if you’re incapable of such a thing he couldn’t care less), it’s more so because Trimax Knives is so madly possessive of you that he wants no doubt in anyone’s mind exactly who you belong to.

Woe is any idiot who decides to breathe the same air as you (let alone touch you) while Knives is in the throes of his heat. People have been maimed, and several of the Gung-Ho Guns have the scars and the psychological damage to prove it.

Also similar to Trimax Vash, Trimax Knives’ heat is slow to build but quick to peak. You will see the warning signs before the full force of his heat hits, and when it does, it’s like a storm of biblical proportions.

When mating with you, Trimax Knives comes quickly and abundantly. His refractory period is short though, and this man will have you coming on his cock over and over and over again, pumping you full of load after load with each round. Trimax Knives takes what he wants, having little regard for your tearful cries for mercy from being sore and overstimulated. He knows your breaking point, and despite the feral state he is in, he will never cross that line. Instead, Trimax Knives balances you perfectly on that edge, watching you come undone beneath him time and time again with blissful satisfaction.

The urge to nest is intense for Trimax Knives during his heat, although he’s not exactly one to build a comfy place for you. Trimax Knives is more interested in finding a safe place over which he has full control. An isolated space where no one either than himself has access to you. This is where you will experience the full force of his heat.

Trimax Knives will also very strangely take good care of you during the entire period of his heat. In spite of the physical exhaustion you will endure, you will be fed, given water, and held tenderly. It’s in Knives’ silent actions where you can truly see how much he cares for you.

You awaken from your deep slumber. Eyes bleary and clouded as they open. Your vision finds the faintest of light above you, and you focus on it until your senses sharpen. 

Once your vision returns you look around. A thick layer of crystallized, shimmering glass is spread beneath your aching body. It looks cold to the touch but it is strangely…warm. As if it were a living, breathing thing cradling you, comforting you, and protecting you.

You shift and in that moment you realize that you’re still connected to something. Heated skin shifts with you and a soft groan sounds in your ear. Turning your head, you look over your shoulder. Memories of the last few days slowly snap into place like puzzle pieces. Knives lays behind you, his alien and unreadable stare fixated on you.

A burning throb commands your attention. You look down, and it’s at this point you realize that Knives’ cock is still buried deep inside you—the evidence of his dizzying girth a demanding pressure between your hips.

“Don’t move,” Knives commands. 

He twitches again inside you and the pressure increases. You mewl at the pleasurable ache. He's still coming.

“Knives…” 

The raspy tone of your voice does not escape the plant’s notice. He tsks, attention turning to something just beyond your reach. His powerful arm snakes past your line of vision, and then returns with a flask of water clutched in his hand. You watch, parched and mesmerized as Knives brings the flask to his perfect, pink lips and pours.

His Adam's apple bobs deliciously as he takes the water into his mouth. After two gulps Knives places down the flask and reaches for you, his fingers grasping your chin. Your mouth opens instinctively, like a baby bird desperate for nourishment, as he leans down and seals his lips with yours.

You whimper, lapping up every precious drop that you can from Knives’ mouth while his tongue glides sensually along your own. The kiss is cut short however, leaving you licking at the little remnants of water left behind. Knives smirks, then from his hand he produces a slice of apple.

“Eat.” He commands.

So you do. Obediently, you take the apple slice from his fingers, wet tongue kittenishly and shyly touching the tips of his fingers as you receive your blessing. Knives hums his approval, his gaze possessive and intense as his thumb gently glides over your bottom lip as you chew. 

The exchange is powerful. Primal. Like a god of creation, Knives institutes himself as the source of life. Of your life. From his lips you drink, from his hand you eat, and from his cock you are filled with euphoric purpose.

“Are you satisfied?” Knives’ purring rumble echoes like an ancient melody upon the crystal glass.

You nod, and no sooner do you show your satisfaction does Knives turn the both of you. His body remains flush against yours as you are maneuvered from your side and onto your hands and knees like an animal. Your face and breasts press firmly against the makeshift glass bed below as Knives lifts your hips into the air—keeping them connected with his own. 

A pathetic moan escapes your lungs as Knives resumes his rut, his cock plunging as deep as your pussy would allow. His burning glands kisses your cervix with each surge forward as his balls slap deliciously against your clit. You arch and sob. You’re so swollen and sore, but Knives feels too fucking good.

“Who do you belong to?”

Of course. This ritual would be incomplete without your pledge of devotion to him.

“Y-you, Knives.”

The powerful being bears down on you, his sharp teeth on the shell of your ear.

“Who do you worship?”

“You.” 

“Who do you love above all else?”

You tremble, the confession vibrating like an explosion in the air as it spills from your lips. 

“You. O-only you Knives. I love you.”

And with a hot groan, Knives comes inside you, his fingers bruising your hips as he grinds his cock against your puffy walls, filling you up with yet another load of his hot cum. When he’s done, his hands come to gently rest on your swollen tummy and you are rewarded with a tender kiss.

“Mine.”

Interested in some Vash plant heat headcanons?

divider source

[cyphyree]

Revolutionary Girl Utena spoilers.

I think what guts me the most is how Utena tries to rise above the mistakes of others, tries to do good, tries to be kind in the name of becoming like the prince she was inspired by...... only to fall short just like everyone else.

She's hypocritical, willfully ignorant, insufferable, malicious even.

When confronted by others who reflect her worst qualities, she tries to defeat them, tries to tell herself that she's not like them at all, when in fact she is all of them to some degree.

The fact that she's "trying to do good" doesn't even make her special or morally better. Lots of well-intentioned characters try to do good in the show, and try to break the rose-tinted windows of their cages. They still end up hurting others, willfully or not. So does Utena.

Utena also tries to drive change, but so does everyone else. All everyone manages to do is reinforce the status quo.

Is Utena a bad person? No.

Is Utena a good person? She's trying, but again that doesn't make her any less malicious than anyone else.

I think what ultimately sets Utena apart is her pursuit for honesty.

Honesty isn't something that's talked about in the show in the most explicit way, and why would anyone talk about it? To be honest is to make yourself vulnerable and open to abuse. To seek honesty is to shatter the lies that offer comfort and confidence, and expose the ugly, dirty little truths underneath. It's to break the rose-tinted windows of their cage: it's painful and sharp and cold and the cuts will be deep and will they even heal?

Utena is honest to a fault, making her susceptible to manipulation and mind games. She's also DIShonest to a fault, therefore perpetuating the illusion that continues to harm Anthy (but it's hard, isn't it, when that illusion is the reason you're still alive?). Utena being naive also has trouble perceiving truths that others more experienced can see.

However--while everyone else resorts to deflecting blame, mind games, or neglecting the inconvenient truth--in the end, Utena continues to pursue truth and be truthful. Not out of naivety like in the beginning, but knowing full well that it's a hell-ridden road worth walking.

She doesn't want illusions and deceit to lull her into false grandeur anymore. She doesn't want to see herself or anyone else through rose-tinted lenses, because to live a pretty lie is to die without being born. She eventually becomes honest with herself, sees the ugly truth of her flaws, and confronts them. She refuses the final illusion Akio offers her because it's dishonest to who she is and what's really important to her. She becomes honest with Anthy, and when Anthy is finally honest with her, Utena receives it in full however much it hurt.

In the end, she didn't save Anthy, because the truth is that Anthy was never hers to save. But by shattering the lies between them, and baring her truth, Utena became the vehicle for Anthy to save herself.

And that is revolutionary.

[knomeofzurich]

I’ve really been enjoying @zeldaelmo ‘s fic “Inspiration, Illusions, and Other Inconveniences” . It’s so sweet and then it hits you real hard with some smut. A delightful end of summer treat.

Here’s my sort of rom-com poster for it!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Wait im sorry if like youve talked about this before but what is everyones roles in the fantasy au 👁️👁️ or jobs?

i've just Thought Aloud in bits and pieces but hey. i feel like talking today so i'll put it all in one place with Updated Thinkings

(i like to imagine that they all kinda Quit their initial jobs/lives to go adventuring with each other, either by choice or... not. except Howdy, who's a multitasking king). the Neighborhood party earns their wages by completing jobs/quests, though some of them have minor supplemental ways of adding to the coin collection

Wally, of course, didn't really have much of a Before. he didn't intend on becoming a warlock/wizard - that choice was kinda made for him by the circumstances of his existence. but Wally had to pretend to be a wizard for his own safety, and wizards have a sort of societal expectation to be Helpful and Magical and Wise and Existing For Public Service. so while Wally would have rather just been a painter, he's obligated to be a wizard - that's technically his role/job. within the Neighborhood party, he's a bit of a distance fighter/support! he doesn't really do the whole up-close / physical aspect of battle, though he technically knows how. He casts spells from afar, which tend to be widely benign. artsy little cantrips and inconveniences to make it harder for the enemy to fight. he's also a bit of a bloodhound - illusions don't trick him, he can "see" most magic, and he's really good at getting around unnoticed. if they're stuck somewhere, Wally can probably get them out

Barnaby's "job" before going adventuring with Wally - it started out as just the two of them! - was just working on the farm with Ms. Beagle, where he had been his entire life. Sure he'd sometimes do public performances/acts in town, which would earn him extra coin, but that was more of a paying hobby than anything (a paying hobby he will Continue) in the Neighborhood, he's... uh. their cheerleader? that's not entirely inaccurate! he's not big on combat or effort i'd reckon, so he prefers to just keep morale high. offer background music, funny commentary, jokes to lighten the mood, mediate tensions, etc. if necessary, he makes good backup - he has his illusions of course, and he Does pack a mighty punch if need be! he's also very helpful when retreating - he can grab the smaller party members and run

Wormie is the group mascot <3

Sally was a bit lost before joining the party - i like to think that she was constantly on the move as part of a traveling theater troupe, but she wasn't the star or director. she was just part of the group, uninspired and with a full well of untapped potential. one day she up and left (dramatically) to find her own inspiration/muse & path to stardom, which ended up being several years of wandering until she happened across the budding Neighborhood and went "this! this will be the source of my stories!" as for her role, she's a bit of an everyman. front lines fighter, entertainer, mediator, etc. she views herself as the party "leader", or rather, their Manager. she keeps the party entertained with stories, and bolsters their reputation in the same manner. in a battle she's a bit of a powerhouse - her light magic is useful both in combat and entertainment! she keeps a "book" of the Neighborhood's exploits (she swears it will be edited/published someday) holy shit she's moominpappa, and in their Extended downtime she writes and throws plays inspired by their adventures at their home base (town).

Eddie was still, originally, a mailman. or i suppose in a fantasy setting - a courier! until one day he saw a group of people being attacked by some bandits, managed to fight them off, and immediately got roped into helping rescue the folks' entire town from the bigger group of bandits. then they told others about Eddie's help, they wanted his help too, one thing after another and now he's got a full set of armor, a sword, a shield, and his whole thing is saving people. huh? how did that happen? he was delivering letters a month ago! if i had to give him a title... i'd say he's a Protector! he seems like the type! he always has his fellow adventurer's backs - i bet he has his hands full trying to cover everyone at once. outside of combat, he's still very helpful and does whatever is asked of him / needed. collecting firewood! pitching tents! stirring soup! getting Frank to remove a centipede from camp! in downtime he probably takes small bodyguarding gigs. he also is a minor healer - he took some sorta oath for some sorta god (or virtue) that he can't remember, but he has minor healing/cleansing powers. he's also good at sniffing out evil & dark magic! some would joke that he's the party's guard dog

Frank was raised in a monastery that believes in "using your body to fight for the greater good". this was not his job when they became old enough to actually Act on his training! nah they ran away in his mid teens because they wanted to fight things on his own terms. also they want to study bugs more than anything, which he does! for a long time! then they meet a certain princess, befriends her, and helps her run away. he only joins the Neighborhood because Julie wants to, and it's a good way to travel - read: study more arthropods - and earn coin. fighting is a bonus aspect Frank's role is... front line fighter, bookkeeper, and the Guy Who Knows Things! what monster are they dealing with? what are its strengths/weaknesses? Frank probably knows! can they afford a room or two at an Inn? Frank knows (no, they cannot)! who's throwing themself into direct mortal danger with gusto? it's Frank! no but really, Frank is like their resident nerd who can beat pretty much all of them in hand-to-hand. in downtime he probably has a garden purposefully full of plants that can be left alone for long periods of time... maybe they sell half the things grown for extra coin!

Julie, of course, was a princess! that was her whole job! it was incredibly boring and restricting, so she ran away with the help of a funny nerd. after that her whole life was just "avoid getting recognized while figuring out how to live in a world without the comforts/ease of castle life". i'd think she much prefers her new one! as a role, Julie joins Barn and Sally in the "entertainment category". while they entertain with humor/stories respectively, Julie goes straight for games and activities to fill the lull between action. keep the blood pumping, spirits high, and bonds Solid! camp games, road games, locked-in-a-dungeon games! in combat, she's on the front lines with her oversized sword. i think another fitting role would be "navigator" - she can ask plants for directions! technically Julie is a secret powerhouse. her flora magic is insanely powerful, though she prefers not to use it for several reasons

Poppy, i like to think, did indeed have a bakery. it was well-loved in her community, her staff were wonderful people, and it all burned down in a night due to raiders. luckily for Poppy and her town, Eddie was nearby and got on the case to get rid of their problem - maybe Poppy felt obligated to help in some shape or form, and Eddie wound up inspiring her to learn healing magic. She moved into the town that would become the not-yet-existing Neighborhood's HQ to try and restart her business, but it just wasn't the same, and she had gotten a taste of what it would be like to directly save/heal people Poppy is the party's cook, healer, and ultimate voice of caution! the most she'll do in battle is sprint into danger to drag an injured person to safety for healing - she doesn't have a combative bone in her body i'd guess! does she enjoy being in the Neighborhood? eh... it's stressful and terrifying, but she couldn't live with herself if she let them all brave the wild without an adequate healer OR an adequate cook. i like to think that she saw the state they were traveling in and went "oh no"

Howdy, of course, has his tavern! it's a popular hub for travelers, townsfolk, pretty much anyone and everyone. of course it helps that it's the only tavern in town! the only reason Barnaby managed to convince Howdy to join the Neighborhood on one of their jobs is because Howdy realized that he can widen his net & sell to new people On The Go. finally, a use for that magic backpack collecting dust in his room! Howdy got a taste for adventuring and joins the Neighborhood every once in a while, usually only for shorter jobs - he doesn't want to be away from his tavern for too long his roles are support, professional haggler, sarcastic commentary. he doesn't have a crumb of magic in him, but he's clever! he's learned how to make his own support items - including his fancy revolvers with magical crayonsbullets. Howdy rarely fights, choosing to watch over his pack, dole out items when needed, and listen to Barnaby's running commentary. when it is necessary that he join in on combat, he can usually clear the playing field in a matter of moments. he's skilled with both the revolvers and using his own items - he's a one man four armed army!

Home's job is "keep Wally upright and powered". they prefer to be an observer in all situations, even after their existence becomes common knowledge to the Neighborhood. the most Home will do is nudge Wally in the right direction or alert him to something important. Home's literally just hanging out behind Wally's eyes w/ a bucket of popcorn. unless something happens to his beloved little puppet, in which case Home becomes the biggest baddest bitch around and sends everyone else to the bench

tl;dr: Wally: support fighter, magic geiger counter, escape artist Barnaby: entertainer, backup Wormie: mascot Sally: storyteller, fighter, Manager Eddie: protector, minor healer, "paladin" Frank: bookkeeper, fighter, scholar Julie: activities director, navigator, fighter Poppy: cook, healer, overthinker Howdy: tavernkeeper, inventor, support Home: just keeping an eye out

[wipbigbang]

Round 2 Of Artists Claims For The Regular WIPBB Are Open! Round 2 lasts until July 31st! You may claim 3 fics this round!

This is one of the fics open for claiming...

The Legend of Zelda #134 Title: Inspiration, Illusions, and other Inconveniences Pairing/Characters: Link/Zelda Rating: Explicit | E Warnings/Tags: No Warnings apply Summary: Bodyguard by day, artist by night—apart from Link's manageable crush on Hyrule's Princess, his life is pretty boring. That is, until one of his artworks attracts the attention of a blogger who anonymously publishes erotica about the Heroes and Princesses of old. Before he knows it, he's in the midst of flirty online friendship with "Tetra" who happens to know a little too much about castle life.

The list of remaining fics and the link to sign up are below!

[nocturnaldice]

German Folklore inspired D&D (5E) Monsters

Frau Holle;

Frau Holle is a legendary figure from German folklore, often depicted as a powerful and enigmatic woman who dwells in the realm between the living and the dead. She is known for her dual nature, embodying both kindness and severity. In some tales, Frau Holle is a nurturing, motherly figure who rewards hard work and diligence, showering the virtuous with blessings. In others, she is a fearsome, supernatural being who punishes the lazy and wicked, often with harsh and mysterious consequences.

Frau Holle is typically associated with winter, snow, and the household, especially spinning and weaving. When she shakes her feather bed, it is said to cause snow to fall in the mortal world. She is often depicted as an elderly woman with a commanding presence, wearing traditional, old-fashioned garb, and carrying a spindle or broom.

In her more malevolent aspect, Frau Holle may appear as a monstrous figure with control over spirits and dark magic, capable of summoning blizzards and curses upon those who incur her wrath. Her realm is said to be accessible through wells or bodies of water, where she judges the souls of the dead and metes out rewards or punishments based on their deeds in life.

The Erlking;

The Erlking, also known as the "Alder King," is a fearsome and malevolent figure from German folklore. Often portrayed as a spectral, ghostly king of the fey or a dark, ominous spirit, the Erlking lures unsuspecting travelers, especially children, into the depths of his enchanted forest, never to be seen again. His presence is marked by an aura of dread and an eerie, unearthly charm.

The Erlking is typically depicted as a tall, imposing figure with an ethereal, almost translucent appearance, often wearing a crown of twisted branches and leaves. His eyes are said to gleam with a cold, hypnotic light, and his voice is a haunting melody that can entrance and bewitch those who hear it. He rides through the forest on a magnificent steed, accompanied by ghostly minions and fey creatures that do his bidding.

In tales, the Erlking's domain is a shadowy, mist-laden forest where time and space seem to warp and twist. He is a master of illusion and enchantment, able to manipulate the environment to confuse and ensnare his victims. Those who fall under his spell are drawn deeper into his realm, where they are lost forever or meet a grim fate.

The Erlking embodies the darker aspects of nature and the supernatural, representing the dangers and mysteries of the wild. He is a powerful and cunning adversary, capable of wielding potent magic and commanding the loyalty of lesser fey and dark spirits. Confronting the Erlking requires not only physical prowess but also wisdom and resilience to resist his beguiling charms and overcome his otherworldly powers.

Elwetritsch;

The Elwetritsch is a whimsical and elusive creature from German folklore, particularly associated with the Palatinate region. Described as a fantastical hybrid, the Elwetritsch typically combines features of birds and small mammals. It often appears as a small, bird-like creature with rabbit-like ears, feathered wings, and sometimes even antlers or a tail resembling that of a squirrel.

In folklore, the Elwetritsch is known for its shy and reclusive nature. It inhabits dense forests, marshes, and secluded glades, where it skillfully camouflages itself to avoid detection. The creature is rarely seen by humans, contributing to its mythical status and the various fanciful descriptions attributed to it.

The Elwetritsch is often associated with playful and harmless mischief. It is said to enjoy leading travelers astray, creating false trails, and causing minor inconveniences. Despite its trickster tendencies, it is generally not considered malevolent. Instead, it embodies the enchanting and unpredictable qualities of the natural world.

In stories and local traditions, the Elwetritsch is sometimes the subject of light-hearted hunting expeditions, where participants (often aware of the creature's mythical nature) embark on humorous and often fruitless quests to capture it. These hunts are more about social bonding and entertainment than any serious attempt to find the elusive creature.

The Elwetritsch adds a touch of magic and whimsy to the folklore of the regions it inhabits, symbolizing the mysterious and delightful aspects of nature. Its presence in a campaign can provide opportunities for playful encounters, light-hearted adventures, and the exploration of enchanted forests filled with wonder and surprise.

Beerwolf;

The Beerwolf, also known as "Bierwolf," is a fearsome creature from German folklore, particularly associated with tales from the rural regions of Germany. Unlike the more commonly known werewolf, the Beerwolf is not a shapeshifter but a monstrous wolf with a penchant for causing havoc in and around taverns and villages, especially during beer festivals and gatherings.

The Beerwolf is typically depicted as a large, imposing wolf with a thick, shaggy coat and glowing, feral eyes that shine with an unnatural light. Its fangs are long and razor-sharp, capable of tearing through flesh and bone with ease. The creature's howl is said to be a bone-chilling sound that instills fear in all who hear it, often signaling its approach.

In folklore, the Beerwolf is often seen as a manifestation of the dangers associated with excessive drinking and debauchery. It is said to lurk around beer halls and taverns, preying on those who have had too much to drink, leading them away into the night where they disappear without a trace. Some stories suggest that the Beerwolf is drawn to the scent of beer and can be found prowling near breweries and cellars.

Wolpertinger;

The Wolpertinger is a fantastical creature from Bavarian folklore, known for its bizarre and whimsical appearance. It is often described as a hybrid creature, combining features of various animals such as rabbits, birds, deer, and rodents. The Wolpertinger is typically depicted as a small, furry creature with the antlers of a deer, the wings of a bird, and the body of a rabbit or rodent, often with additional features like duck bills or squirrel tails.

The Wolpertinger's appearance varies widely depending on the storyteller, with each iteration more fantastical than the last. Despite its unusual appearance, the Wolpertinger is often portrayed as harmless and even endearing, more likely to cause amusement than fear.

In folklore, the Wolpertinger is said to inhabit the dense forests and mountainous regions of Bavaria, where it eludes capture with its agility and cleverness. It is often associated with beer halls and taverns, where it is said to enjoy stealing sips of beer and causing mischief among patrons. Legends of the Wolpertinger have been passed down through generations, with many hunters claiming to have caught glimpses of the elusive creature during their expeditions.

Petermännchen;

Petermännchen are mischievous and benevolent spirits from German folklore, particularly prevalent in the northern regions of Germany, including Pomerania and Mecklenburg. This small, gnome-like creature is known for its playful nature and its habit of assisting or pranking humans, depending on their treatment of it and others.

Petermännchen are typically depicted as a small humanoid creature, standing about two to three feet tall. It has a rotund figure, with a long beard and pointed ears. Its eyes are often described as twinkling with mischief, and it is usually depicted wearing traditional clothing, such as a pointed hat and simple, rustic attire.

According to folklore, Petermännchen are most active at night, where they roam the countryside, forests, and villages, interacting with humans in various ways. They are said to be particularly fond of children and animals, often playing games with them or leaving small gifts in exchange for treats or acts of kindness.

While Petermännchen are generally friendly and helpful, they can also be mischievous, especially towards those who mistreat them or others. They may play harmless pranks on those they deem deserving or teach valuable lessons through their actions.

Irrwurz;

The Irrwurz is a mysterious and malevolent plant creature from German folklore, said to inhabit dark and secluded places in the forest, marshes, or other remote areas. It is often depicted as a twisted and grotesque plant with thorny vines, glowing eyes, and a hunger for the unwary.

The Irrwurz appears as a gnarled and twisted plant with thick, thorny vines and dark, glossy leaves. Its roots burrow deep into the earth, anchoring it to its chosen habitat. Glowing eyes peering out from amidst the foliage give it an eerie and menacing appearance, and its scent is said to be foul and nauseating.

Legends of the Irrwurz warn travelers to avoid venturing into areas where it is said to dwell, for those who do risk becoming lost forever in its tangled embrace. The Irrwurz is said to ensnare its victims with its thorny vines, dragging them down into the earth to be consumed and absorbed into its roots, never to be seen again.

[astriskssketchbook]

I've been working on a set of actual dark fantasy style characters. They're based on historical warriors and entities now trapping in a fantasy world. Filled with creatures, incredible dangers and a kingdom tyrannically run by 20 strange kings.

The story is that there is only a small set of people who mysteriously enter into this magical land as these figures. However there is one caveat, for it is not a blessing to be reincarnated in this world, but a rather inconvenient curse, these people can never take off their helmets to show the real faces. Only upon death will the armored helm release its magic grip. But for now, if ever revealed, a strange and anomalous thing will occur if their faces were to be revealed, not of their own, but a representation.

The story revolves around a small band of four individuals. All who have taken up names not even of their own. Strangely enough as they go along on their adventure to seek a way back home, they meet others just like them with very different goals. This band of misfits must survive what they have dubbed "Utherland".

"Richard Harold of Windsor"

Much like the rest of his party, he has no memory of his life prior to entering the Utherland, all except his name, Richard Harold. He's a rather serious lad who just wants to leave the others back home. Taking on the shape of a medieval knight, is valor encourages reflected by his newly gained skills with the sword and shield, juxtaposed to his anxiety and fear of failing as a leader. Unbeknownst to him, he was a lot less chivalrous. Born in Windsor, England, Richard wasn't what one would consider a normal child. Growing up poor, failing at school, joining again in order to get up in life. He worked as a petrol station clerk, secretly funneling money to his gang as a means to fund their own endeavors. One day, arrival gang had appeared at the station with the plans of robbing him. Already have done it first, Richard had decided to stand his ground and attempt to at least protect the cigarettes and booze from the gas station, unfortunately.... Meeting what can be considered his end.

"Astriclsk"

Unfortunately, for Asterisk she does not remember anything from her past. With no name attached to the sporadic memories she has, she had adopted the name 'Asterisk' from the strange etchings behind the trim of her helmet. What she had not noticed, the moment she took off her helmet, a fiery silver blaze with a set of blue mati as our own eyes was all that is left of her identity. Her talents do not lie within combat, but with her incredible skills of survival. Due to her friendly nature, it is easy for her to come across strange creatures and survive their encounters relatively unharmed. From the small fae-like creatures, to Giants nearly incomprehensible, her talents line within the ability to create allies.

"Bunji"

Bunji, a fun loving and mischievous young man, surprisingly has many memories from his past, all with the exception of his real name. Only his knowledge of his extensive familiar history is what helped him discern his name in this world. Priding himself as a shaman and a "cleverman", he is akin to a healer and a druid for his group. Much like Asterisk, he too conveys with the natural world of "Utherland". However, his magical prowess has gained him the infamy of being a trickster to his enemies, capable of shapeshifting, manipulating the environment, and creating fabulous illusions, Bunji's mystical abilities give the gifted edge that many in Utherland are not as privileged to have. His backstory was that he was the son of a local farmer whose land was constantly a threat of greedy realistators, attempting to purchase the land illegally for their own game and purposes. How he met his end is not even known to him, or those memories seem to be gone.

"Montague the Entertainer"

Like Asterisk, Montague's name isn't his own, but had appeared in his mind like inspiration. A free spirited man, towering over even Richard in hight, he is the party's whimsical yet rational grifter. What he steals is for the party's own good. His swift yet artistic nature lends him a helping and hurting hand once and a while. Contrasting with such a roughish facade, he wasn't allowed to express himself in his adopted home of Venice, Italy. At least now how one would expect a language and science student would. A refugee from Ethiopia, he had been sent to Italy to live with his grandmother. Having proven to be an academic genius, he has earned national scholarships to one of Italy's finest universities. Sadly, what was supposed to be a lovely night out at the University's themed party of the year...May have brought Montego to Utherland against his will. With the luck of having his intellectual wit, he has become a jack of as many trades as he pleases. Now if ONLY he could remember his darn name.

[willowwind78]

Bard

So... you might notice this particular miniature isn't exactly like the other one's you see on Etsy, which is where I purchased this when it was unpainted. I dropped him. He broke. I can't find the missing piece that links the illusion to the ball and when I tried to glue his hand back on it didn't fit right. Hence: How Not to Paint Miniatures!

Tip of the day: Don't drop your miniatures on the floor.

Still, he's pretty awesome. I kind of feel like the base detracts from the mini a bit though. That stump is a lot. A bit of distraction. He could have just sat on a rock.

Then again, maybe the stump is where his magic is drawn from. That would be most inconvenient. I find it more likely that his magical power is drawn from the fungi growing on the stump. I wonder if he's thought of that or if he just hangs out on the stump because he thinks it's the only place he can cast spells.

willowwind78 on eBay

I don't mention this very often on here, but I feel the need today. If you like the absurdity and weirdness of my posts, you should check out my YouTube Channel. I currently have 5 subscribers!

Pastor Jen @pastorjen_hntpm

Yes, I am a Pastor. I play role-playing games. I paint miniatures. I play video games. I am goofy. This morning, I wrote a sermon comparing Jesus to the atom bomb because I was watching the movie Oppenheimer. I related the destructive capabilities of the atom bomb and its power to either create or destroy the world to the way so many terrible people use Jesus Christ and his teachings as a way to divide and destroy others.

I am currently having some struggles trying to get my churches videos edited to just my sermons and then uploaded to my YouTube channel so you don't have to watch the whole service from the QuietDellChurch channel just to hear my message. I'd print them but they don't read the same as I deliver them.

My view of Christianity is a bit different than you might think. My Jesus made water into wine, chatted openly and actively with prostitutes, interacted without fear with women who somehow had five husbands that no one questioned how they all died, and thinks everyone has a voice. You might hate me because despite that I follow the teachings of Jesus Christ I do not believe He is the ONLY way to salvation, happiness on earth or any other such thing. Check me out, you might find something that inspires you. God walks with me.

[zeldaelmo]

Fic schedule poll for my new long story!

Bodyguard by day, artist by night—apart from Link's manageable crush on Hyrule's Princess, his life is pretty boring. That is, until one of his artworks attracts the attention of a blogger who anonymously publishes erotica about the Heroes and Princesses of old. Before he knows it, he's in the midst of a flirty online friendship with "Tetra" who happens to know a little too much about castle life.

I'm tinkering with the idea of posting this story as a countdown fic for Echoes of Wisdom. I've never done that before, so I have no idea what schedule would make sense. The story will be around 20 chapters, all between 2k and 5k. I've seen people post daily for an occasion like this but maybe that's too often to keep up with?

So dear readers, click some buttons to help a writer out!

[marvelmaniac715]

This is part seven of my Chucky transferring his soul into a human at the end of Seed au! This part is a homage to how he first dies in the first Child’s Play movie, and I think it’s one of my favourite parts to write so far :). Like always, in this au, up until the age of fourteen Glen and Glenda go by he/him and she/her respectively.

————————————————————-

It was nearly 4 am. Chucky couldn’t sleep though, he had been struck by an idea for a new painting around midnight, and was currently taking a coffee break after a three hour painting session. Nobody else was up, or so he thought.

Because it was so quiet and peaceful, it was easy for Chucky to pick out the sound of two little pairs of feet scampering down the hallway, towards the kitchen. This was such an inconvenient time, but that was all part of the game. Oh well, he’d better stand up and find a nearby wall for later in the game. One time he’d chosen a wall that had a shelf on it and had suffered a minor concussion.

They were trying to be quiet, but they were whispering and giggling softly with excitement, before loudly shushing themselves. Every time they played this game, they forgot to be silent, but Chucky never told them. That would ruin things.

Sure enough, after about five minutes, Glen and Glenda jumped out from behind the doorway. Chucky faked surprise, then fear. He stuck his arms up in the air in a ‘don’t shoot!’ gesture and began to run around the kitchen, being sure not to knock into anything. Tiff would be pissed if he broke another plate whilst playing this game.

He managed to outrun the twins for a whole two minutes, then they shot him with their water pistols. That was a new record for them! He never held anything back, his children may only be seven but they should know how to gun down a man when he’s running at full speed. He was so proud at how fast they’d caught him this time.

But that pride had nearly made him forget the next part of the game. So he immediately let out a fake cry of pain, then stumbled into the wall he’d chosen earlier. He really hammed it up this time, letting out little groans as he clutched him middle and slowly slid to the floor into a sitting position.

“You killed me! You hear that? You killed me!”

He really drew inspiration from his final words to Mike Norris in that toy store all those years ago. But of course, he cleaned them up a bit, he didn’t want the twins going into school and repeating some of his more colourful phrasing. 

With a final gasp, he collapsed onto his back, closing his eyes for effect. He could hear nervous feet scuttling nearby. He’d been really convincing this time around, anyone would think that it was a real bullet that had hit him, not just water. The twins seemed genuinely nervous, and Chucky was tempted to break the illusion to reassure them that their Daddy was alright, but he didn’t want to ruin the game.

One of the twins came over and leaned their head against his chest. Their hair was long and curly, so it was probably Glenda. He was surprised at this, Glenda was usually more cautious about this sort of thing, it was usually Glen that did this part, but they must have agreed on who did what whilst they were filling their water pistols. 

He kept still and slowed his breathing. He did his best not to laugh or even twitch when Glenda shook him. His little girl was so feisty, a stark contrast to her more mild-mannered brother, who usually would just lightly poke him if he was the one on ‘check if he’s alive’ duty. He actually was rather proud of how well he did at not breaking character, not even for a second. It was moments like this when he genuinely believed that he’d missed his calling as an actor, but he preferred painting. 

Glen slowly walked over. He laid on Chucky’s other side, as if listening for a heartbeat. He must have seen that in a movie or something, it was really cute. Any second now he’d finish the game, but he never left it the same amount of time. He liked to build suspense, always leave them guessing. It would help them when they grew up. This wasn’t only a game, it was a lesson in survival. 

When they were older, he’d teach them how to properly fire and load guns, but at this age it was more about fun and not actual skill. But he did occasionally correct their form, because even on a toy, the ways they’d tried to fire those pistols at first didn’t produce any water.

He’d open his eyes in 3… 2… 1…

He opened his right eye half an inch. Everything was a blurry shade of grey, but he could still see the bright red hair of his children, lying on his chest. Now came the fun part.

With a playful roar, he leapt to his feet, picking up a twin with each arm, tossing the giggling seven year olds in the air and then catching them again. He staggered over to a nearby couch and threw himself down on it, keeping a firm grip on the twins so they didn’t fall on the ground.

They were all madly cackling at this point as Chucky peppered their faces with kisses. Then Glenda angrily poked him in the side with a stern glare (or, as stern as a seven year old could look).

“Not fair, Daddy! I really thought that they were fatal shots that time!”

The twins had shot him in the left arm. Even if they were bullets, they would only slow him down at most. But hey, this was a good lesson for them, not about where to shoot, because anatomy would come later and that would only upset them, but instead he could teach them about double-checking whether or not a victim is dead.

“We were only playing, baby. Besides, this is a good lesson, always double-check that the person you shoot is actually dead. If you grab the victim’s wrist and feel a beat, that’s their pulse, and it means that they’re still alive.”

He held his wrists out to Glen and Glenda, encouraging them both to check his pulse. Glenda simply stared in fascination, but Glen giggled.

“It feels kinda funny, Dad. It tickles!”

Chucky gently removed Glen’s tiny hand from around his wrist and reached down to ruffle his hair fondly.

“Yeah, it does feel kinda funny, doesn’t it buddy? But it’s a better way to check if someone’s alive than just lying on their chest, y’see?”

Glen smiled and nodded, showing that he understood. With this new discovery, Glen and Glenda settled down to cuddle into his sides, trying not to fall asleep.

“Your Mom would murder me if she saw you two up at this time, my little gremlins. I really should get you both to bed…”

Glen and Glenda gave each other a conspiratorial look and nodded. Then, at the same time, they turned to Chucky and gave him their best puppy-dog eyes and wide pleading grins. Chucky could never say no to one twin doing this, this was the first time that the two of them had done it together.

Sure enough, Chucky crumbled.

“Aw, hell. Screw your Mom, you can stay down here with me. I’m working on a new painting, wanna come into my studio and make some artwork? I’ll even let you use the really expensive pastels I spent a crap ton of money on.”

[tauforged]

kai mierha is honestly my favorite oc who isnt a fan character from pre-established setting or inspired directly by any other existing character.... hes my funny little guy. hes a loser. he does parkour and wants to be a magician. he has very strict morals about what is and isnt right, but nobody knows what exactly those morals entail aside from him. he had a heist outfit ready to go in case of emergencies, despite the circumstances implying NOTHING about potentially having to sneak into someone's apartment to snoop around. he's recently started growing horns made of ice and considers them a mild inconvenience. he got really excited when he found a deck of illusions in a chest once because he considers himself mildly proficient in card tricks and imagined himself looking sooooo badass utilizing them in combat. he trained for years to hone his senses to the point where he fights better blindfolded than with his eyes open, but he also uses his crazy good hearing to eavesdrop and be nosy. his dad is a retired caster and his mom used to be a wrestler. he's a changeling child accidentally tethered to the soul of a dead god. he dresses like he's on his way to a rave at all times. his name is a play on the word 'chimera'. he means so much to me fr

[back-and-totheleft]

Looking dapper in a blue blazer, Oliver Stone is chit-chatting with the press inside a glass box on the terrace of an antiquated hotel on the Venice Lido. He’s been posing for a few photos and doing rounds of interviews during this afternoon of rain that has somewhat dampened the festival glamor. Still, his presence has been felt on the terrace. He’s a stately figure. A big name is in town.

When the doors are closed to the glass box, no sound comes from the commotion outside on the terrace where Berlusconi babes and tired-looking journalists mill about. And vice versa, no sound gets out. But Stone’s message, with his latest documentary film, “Nuclear,” is something that the American director of titles like “Platoon” and “Natural Born Killers” wants the whole world to hear.

Oliver Stone’s response to the global hazard of climate change has been two years in the making and is playing in an out-of-competition slot at this year’s Venice International Film Festival. It’s a film he’s said in other interviews was his most challenging to make. The documentary was inspired by the book “A Bright Future” by Joshua Goldstein, who co-wrote the film and kept Stone on track. Its subject is what Stone calls the “greatest story of our time.”

How can we use nuclear energy to lift the world from poverty to prosperity while reducing global warming and reliance upon other, more damaging fuels? How can we use science to solve the problem? It’s a subject, he says, he didn’t know enough about until he read the book. He’s since done his homework to make the film, even showing up in Russia. He talks about Germany, France, Finland, and the EU – an institution he’s not yet convinced about.

When he speaks, Stone is practical and sometimes poetic. He’s well-behaved but slightly provocative, in a fun way, like poking at Jane Fonda when he gets a chance. “In the 1970s, you could say Jane Fonda, I love Jane Fonda, was right about the Vietnam War,” he says. “I agree with her. But Jane missed the boat on this one.”

He’s got a firm grip on the failings of politics, and the subsequent impact on the climate crisis, not to mention some of the confusion surrounding the term nuclear.

“The word ‘nuclear’ was deliberately used by me because I wanted to challenge this confusion, to say there is a difference between nuclear power and nuclear bombs,” he says. “That and radiation get confused all the time. Radiation is an enemy [of the people] because they have been told that it is, and those are the two biggest issues dividing people and keeping them from knowing the truth.”

Choice and beliefs around nuclear energy appear a few times in the conversation.

“There’s so much conventional illusion. It’s the nature of life,” he adds. “You have to accept it. Most people are deluded. Most people believe in Gods and all sorts of superstitious crap. Science is the best way to deal with life. Not to say it’s the only answer, but to me it’s the spiritual answer.”

This project began when Stone read Goldstein’s book based on a New York Times review.

“I read the review, and I bought the book,” he says. “This was after I had been made aware of how dangerous climate change is through the years from the Al Gore film [“An Inconvenient Truth”) in 2006, until now.”

Nuclear could have become a bad Alfred Hitchcock horror instead of a documentary.

Stone recalls: “Right away, I called him (Goldstein) up and said can I option the book? I asked him to write a dramatic film, but it was a mistake because it’s not possible to dramatize nuclear power. It’s not possible. He wrote a conventional Hitchcock, or bad Alfred Hitchcock thriller, where the female scientist is being chased by bad guys. They are trying to kill her. It didn’t work out. So he said let’s go to documentary. My first draft was pretty wild.”

He contemplates the nature of filmmaking and how it deals with big subjects.

“Every time you do those types of movies, you have to make it negative. In ‘Pandora,’ they made Fukushima look like Hiroshima. It worked. The Korean population closed down. What about ‘The China Syndrome’ in America? It was a disaster,” he says.

He adds: “I think the only way you can go about it directly is through facts.”

By contrast, he refers to some of the fear being stirred up around Ukraine’s captured nuclear facility, Zaporizhzhia, as “fake news.” “Now the whole world is talking about this Ukrainian reactor. They are ignoring all of the people dying there and being killed. It’s the war that’s important,” he says.

He also asks about the number of apocalyptic movies we’ve seen in the last 30 years. “So many. So much has gone wrong. They say everything is going wrong. The world is fucked. We are very pessimistic now. There’s no possibility to have hope in movies. It’s seen as corny. If Frank Capra came along and made movies with a happy ending. I love that. We love that, but it’s not possible anymore. It doesn’t seem possible. There’s a deliberate type of self-imprisonment. Movies have always been made for horror and fear. It makes money.”

Stone, of course, asks questions in the film. For example, where does the confusion surrounding nuclear bombs and nuclear power come from?

“There was the 1956 Rockefeller campaign, there was fake science saying any amount of radioactivity was dangerous to the body which started this fear of radiation,” he says. “Remember the horror movies of the 1950s with the radiated monsters in America? It worked. But think of the Hulk. It made him stronger. There’s a difference between nuclear power and war.”

-Liza Foreman, "Oliver Stone Talks ‘Nuclear’ And Hollywood’s Misguided Love Of Disaster Movies," ThePlaylist, Sept 11 2022 [x]

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Y'know, I could totally see Ingo and Akari just... accidentally forming a Team (somewhere in between Team Skull and Team Yell in terms of actual crimes). There would be some people who would absolutely assume the best of Ingo and Akari and just. Try to inconvenience the researchers as much as possible.

It starts off with a few Nimbasa natives who moved to Sinnoh, because that is their train man, and they will fight the world for him. Then, some Pearl Clan descendents who recognize Ingo's tunic and Sneasler join up. As Ingo and Akari help more people, some of the people they help join this new Team. Unova natives from outside Nimbasa start joining up once the Soxial Media War starts up. After Ingo and Akari's stint with Team Galactic, a few grunts switch teams because Ingo is the best dad/uncle ever and he actually listened to them and validated their feelings. In the brief period of time between the egg debacle and Ingo and Akari's names getting cleared, their ranks suddenly swell with a bunch of angry breeders.

Ingo and Akari are very confused and touched by all this when they find out.

Yes! I love this!! 🤩

The only thing I’d tweak is that their first members of their unofficial team would be the school children they first battled and were very kind to. The kids spread the word of mouth to other kids and suddenly Ingo and Akari are also being given extra random goodies along with their winning tips. There even one kid who gives them his mothers freshly baked pecha berry pie that he stole from the kitchen windowsill that morning.

And yes, Nimbasa/Unova transplants definitely try to help them out, weather it be actively getting in the way of or distracting those that are chasing them, or just tearing down the wanted posters they find taped up in the poke mart. They share every article and talking point Elesa’s PR put out. There are even those that have Zoroark who teach them Ingo’s appearance so to confuse the cops with their illusions.

The Pearl clan descendants are a bit spread out over Sinnoh now-a-days, but most still get together for festivals all over Sinnoh. The leaders of the clan are the ones who organize allot of the events and keep the traditions and the histories alive. So when they hear of this ‘Ingo’ who had made off with extinct pokemon including a ‘Tall Sneasel’, they all immediately know something is up. All the little old ladies all pull out their address books and start making calls across the region. The adult members either give their own trainer children extra money and supplies to give to Ingo and Akari when they inevitably try to battle them, or are out helping the Unovan team members as well.

The galactic grunts switch teams not only because of Ingo but also because of Akari. It one point she explains to them all exactly what Galaxy Team was, who founded it, what it did, and most importantly, what it meant to her. She tells the the history of their organization and the legacy that has been forgotten. It’s all so inspiring and eye opening as to what they could be, that those who leave start to call themselves members of the Galaxy Team! Which might be the team name that sticks to describe everyone who’s supporting them, much to the folks who don’t know the history annoyance.

And the breeders! Ho boy the breeders are a force of their own! They were already lokey supporting Ingo and Akari for a while cause in every screen shot/ video they’ve seen of the Pokémon and Sneaseler, they all look pretty well taken care of? Like no signs of obvious distress or aggression? Which is very surprising especially if the reports are true that Sneaseler’s is carrying eggs in her basket. Plus SHE’s the one carrying them! If these were wicked thieves like reports are trying to make them out to be, how are they fine with her having the eggs? She could just run off with them at any moment!

Then the Egg Incident happens and all the Pokémon Breeders are out for blood.