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  1. the moments where what i assume are the vocal track splits into chords are pretty strong but it's kinda forgettable otherwise 6/10 real video game soundtrack hours in the thread huh soundtrack really has a guy going popipopipopopipo in the background huh 7/10OP Suggestion: Had Jesus Christ Superstar on the brain again. 7.5/10
  2. Quarters! Vambrace flew parallel to the floor but not too far above it before lowering himself to the ground a good distance away from Aeon and pushing himself to his feet. The first thing he did was check his equipment. It wouldn’t be good if she broke it with just one punch, but she also stated her intentions of doing just that the second time it got in the way like that. Its thrusters had activated properly and the diagnostics he could run in what time he had were coming up green, but it was better safe than sorry. What did he know about Aeon? Only what he had heard, and the rumors were various. He’d had her wiki page once upon a time while waiting for a new update to compile, but hundreds of years of history would not fit in his brain no matter how much he read so he mostly skimmed it. Everything else he knew, he learned from Legion and his recounting of Aeon’s meeting with Caesar, which was not exactly helpful from a combat perspective. For fighting, he just had to go by instinct. "Punching’s going nowhere," he said to himself, which was a problem since punching with a tinker-tech gauntlet was his thing. "Just going to get grabbed and thrown or who knows what else. But she is still just a Brawler at the end of the day." He pumped his fists, boxing the air a little as he turned back towards Aeon, who was still standing there, patiently waiting with a goofy grin on her face for him to return to the fray. "Trust the plan," he told himself. "At least keep her busy." And he charged back in. Names, to Arcturus, really did matter. To have a cape name taken directly from the stars only meant one thing in Scarlet City: an affiliation with The Zodiac in general and Ophiuchus in specific. To keep it after defecting, as she had, was a massive insult, and a calculated one at that. Arcturus wanted that fucking snake to know exactly how much she despised him. It was smothering, working for the Zodiac. Everything had to be done just so, exactly the way Ophiuchus wanted, and if it wasn’t, then you might as well not exist to him. A small-time group might be assimilated all at once only for Ophiuchus to, despite the group's natural chemistry, tear the group apart because he "knew better." It was like buying a car, a perfectly good automobile, just to scrap it for parts. To continue the metaphor, she was like the catalytic converter. Maybe it was the pride talking, but Arcturus had been the most valuable member of her gang. Ophiuchus saw her as valuable by herself. A car can still run without its converter, of course, but not as well, and after everyone else went on a fatal mission she wasn’t there, well, it was a pretty heavy last straw. Caesar, though, let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. Some of that, she was pretty sure, was just so she could parade around wearing her newfound allegiance on her sleeve -- her name was as much Caesar’s insult as it was hers -- but also, as long as she did the occasional errand like this, she could fly up as high as she could and mourn absent friends in silence for all Caesar cared. Override’s threat was empty. He was clearly grasping at straws. It was almost a pity. She could have stood to play with him a little longer, but no, now was the time to go on the offensive. She sent her next ball of energy up to the ceiling. The ball’s shunt was targeting the rafters, breaking off one of the church’s many support beams, and, with accuracy only someone who had done this all her life could demonstrate, she sent it and some of the nearby ceiling crashing down on Override’s head. Hellhound and Censer found themselves in quite the predicament, or Hellhound did, and Censer wasn’t about to leave her teammate behind. “More smoke,” Censer said. “Better smoke. Uh.” She threw out some more, but it still didn’t have much effect on Sibyl’s shadowy appendages whipping around Hellhound’s dog/cat/thing. “Give me a second. Uh.” “You don’t really have a second, but I’ll do my best,” Hellhound said. They let out a little whistle, reverting their dog back to his normal, diminutive size, but at least without tentacled appendages interlocking and throwing everything into chaos, he and Sibyl were separated, and the dog was safe to recover for a moment at least. “Take cover behind the pews then, just buy whatever time you can!” Censer wasn’t exactly hiding as she let out the occasional “Uh,” or “No…” and shot up the occasional cloud of smoke behind one of the church’s many pews, but Hellhound did indeed do their best. It only took a second for their dog to leap out in a new form, full of confidence and without any of the damage Sibyl might have inflicted on him by swinging him around as she had. The dog still flickered in and out of reality, though; it appeared he had not entirely left the world of illusory tricks behind. “Nice place you got,” Lucky Cat said as Lailah picked herself back up from Arcturus’ shunting. “I was never really a church person, but I might change my mind if these are the sorts of hangout spots you got. You hiring?” She was still sitting back in one of the pews, legs propped up on the one in front of her, not making a move toward fighting at all, but it was still quite clear to both parties that the question was rhetorical at best. Still, Lailah responded as best she could. “It’s… I am sure we could find a congregation who would welcome you with open arms if you wanted,” she said. “It would be no trouble at all.” “Mm, I dunno.” Lucky Cat stood up and stretched, rubbing her shoulders and twisting around. “I’ve got a pretty sweet gig going on right now with the Gibbons, would hate to give that up. You know Caesar’s posts little bounties? Want to bet who’s gotten most of them?” Lailah didn’t respond. She was trying to access her power, but Lucky Cat’s aura was throwing a wrench in things. It wasn’t that it was completely disabled, no, the little balls of light were still there orbiting around her, she wasn’t cut off, but the mental effort required was more than she was used to. Every so often, an angel would flicker into view, but it was only for a moment, it was never long enough for it to actually do anything. Lucky Cat only laughed. Lailah switched tactics, giving up on her power and instead running in, but as soon as she took a few steps, her foot got caught on her dress and she fell back down to the ground. “Ooh, bad luck!” Lucky Cat said. “That seems to happen often to other people, but never to me. I guess a cat always lands on her feet, you know?” She made a little cat paw motion with her hands and walked forward towards Lailah. Despite her bravado, her steps were shaky too. “But this is fun! What do you think’s going to happen next?” OOC
  3. Quinn was confused by Belladonna’s insistence on staying. Not that there was anything wrong with cheering on a friend, of course, especially on a momentous occasion such as this, but there were so many extenuating circumstances that called them elsewhere. “Nathaniel has already given us his purse,” he said, naming one of them as they held up the Snorlax bag. “It would be rude not to at this point.” Quinn grabbed at Belladonna’s wrist and tried to guide the girl along, ignoring her flinch as their skin made contact. And yet, pulling still got them nowhere. Belladonna had proven herself to be not only sedentary but the stubborn sort of sedentary as well. A second tug on the wrist proved to be equally ineffective, as did a third. “Come, Belladonna,” Quinn said. “You will feel much better with some fresh linens on you. I know this from experience; it is the first thing my parents did when I was brought back down the mountain.” That finally did it. Belladonna’s shoulders drooped down to a surely-uncomfortable posture even by her standards. “Fine,” she said. “I do need new clothes.” As Quinn found out, this was easier said than done. New Point Landing was very much a tourist town, and most of the stores they could find were targeted towards that demographic, so while the Poké Balls, Potions, Antidotes, and, yes, even stamps (with a fancy stamp book provided for purchasing a set) were easy finds, clothes proved a bit more difficult. The bags full of stuff weighed on Quinn as it looked. She had had Cassiopeia wrap her tethers around her and Belladonna’s wrists to free up a hand for shopping bags, but eighty-some pounds of ethereal presence could only do so much. The Korova region, it turned out, or at least the New Point Landing part of it, only really had two shirt designs. They were plastered on all different kinds of shirts, sure, from sweatshirts to long-sleeves to tees and every other kind a merchant might think would sell but they were these: The first had a lavish design (even if it was still clearly printed on) of a lush and wild landscape capped off with a rainbow arching over it all. Within the rainbow were words, printed in nice big friendly letters: ~KOROVA THE RAINBOW~ and then below the design, in smaller yet no less friendly letters, just in case somebody didn’t get the joke (over the rainbow) The other shirt was much simpler. It was only text, so no big fancy image getting in the way of its message, and the letters were blocky and firm. i visited the korova region and all i got was this dumb t-shirt “Oh my,” Quinn said upon realizing just how limited things were. They held up the two options to Belladonna. “I might suggest alternating between the two? That way neither gets too dirty, and I am sure we will be able to find hostels that can provide the right amenities to clean them.”
  4. “Thanks,” Lana said. “Welcome,” Chris said. He was so drained, he couldn’t manage much else. Now that all the cultists were dead, leaving just that one bloodhulk still rampaging around, it was a lot easier to let that come back to the forefront. At the same time, he wasn’t in immediate danger, so he had some time to catch his breath. He did not want to fight this thing. He’d tried already and each sword stroke didn’t seem to affect it at all. Estellise had come the closest with her magic, but her best strike had still needed Ziun to distract it first, and there was no way the bard was going to be able to do that forever. He still felt like he had to fight, though, for that very reason. Maybe one more swing was all it took. Maybe they needed to aim somewhere specific. His sword still felt heavy in his hand, but he could heft it now. Before he charged in, though, he saw the open door at the other end of the dungeon out of the corner of his eye, and he remembered why he had directed everyone at the start of the fight the way he had. The door had always been open. And yeah, they’d been waylaid when the enemies in the room proved faster than, say, the mushroom people a few floors back, but that had always been the goal. With his current fatigue, the door seemed so far away, but they could make it. They had to. “Come on,” he said to himself. “Just one more burst.” Chris took a deep breath, gathered what little energy he had left, and called out to Estellise and Ziun. “Hey, the door’s open! You don’t need to kill it, just stun the thing and let’s get out of here!” Estellise’s bow immediately disappeared, replaced instead by the magical ball of light she’d used to distract the village full of goblins which she threw at the monster’s face. It didn’t actually manage to stun the thing, but as she got out of the way and headed towards the door, the magical enchantment encouraging her own movement working double-time now, the bloodhulk still charged towards where she had just been standing a moment ago. The thing was blinded, at least for a little bit. “Come on,” Chris said to Lana, “we need to get going before it figures itself out again.”
  5. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. -Deuteronomy 31:6 (NIV)Melissa bit her lip as Fen made her first turn. It wasn’t the play she would have made. She didn’t get a good look at Fen’s hand to see the rest of her options, though -- maybe it was the only play? The biggest worry in her eyes was the eight hundred attack, but then again, it was a card Fen probably wanted to get into the graveyard anyway, and if cards like those in her starter deck were common to all decks -- if this version of Duel Monsters was actually balanced around starting with four thousand life points -- Fen couldn’t even be punished all that hard for it. The Spike Brother wound up having to equip an otherwise normal monster just to crack through, confirming Melissa’s suspicions, so while Melissa did make a mental note to go through the differences between combat with Attack-position monsters and those safely in Defense-position, she didn’t want to keep her opponent waiting. He said he had a movie to catch, and there was a competition between the two brothers besides. The least she could do was be courteous and respect that. “You know, there were legends back home of people with multiple consciousnesses inside them, switching personalities the moment they started dueling,” she thought to the computers in her head. Would you like us to try this activity for you? It would require some reconfiguration on our part to avoid our manifestations, but it could be done if- “No, no,” Melissa thought. “I was just- I don’t know what I was doing. I should be fine.” It was all coming back to her. She liked to be like the Brothers, at least in the “wanting to finish duels quickly” way, anyway. In her case, it was so she could get it over with and move on before she could get trapped in a rematch. She’d end up a bit reckless and uncaring about the result. But she was still riding a familiarity high with the confidence to match. “Before we start, I worry I haven’t made something quite clear,” Melissa said as she drew her first few cards, cradling them in her left hand like she was used to back home. “I have played this game before. I don’t want to shark you into thinking our duel is going to be easy. I want to be upfront about that.” She surveyed her hand. “I, um, I suppose I will play this Spirit of the Fall Wind.” It was a different Fairy than the type she was used to, this one more pagan in its inspiration, but it was the face card of her deck, and with an apparently hefty eighteen hundred attack points, she was happy to have drawn it so soon. “It also has an effect that lets me add a monster with a FLIP effect to my hand,” Melissa said. Now she just had to remember what was all in there! As the Spirit waited patiently, Melissa tried to go through the list of cards on the back of the box in her head, making sure that she didn’t include any of the cards she had cut in the meantime when she was slimming the list down to forty. None of the cuts had been flips, right? One card stood out in her mind, and she settled on that out of want for anything else. “Magician of Faith, I suppose,” Melissa said. The card popped out of her deck and she shuffled it in with the rest of her hand. “Now, Battle Phase. I’ll have Spirit of the Fall Wind attack your face-down.” And just as she spoke it, it occurred. The Spirit took a deep breath and blew a gale out ahead of it. The wind picked up the Spike Brother’s monster and spun it around briefly before it finally shattered into pieces. “Okay, okay. Maybe your monsters are a little bigger than I expected,” Spike Brother Eight said, “but how about this!” He held the card up for just long enough for Melissa to vaguely recognize it before two more cards popped out of his deck and he slammed them into play. “I get two more of these D-boyz out onto the field! I guess I take damage or something, but prepare to be outnumbered!” Suddenly, Melissa wished Jun were here. There were obviously ways to deal with a D-Boyz, especially two that had been summoned in Attack position -- they only had one hundred Attack! -- but Melissa’s mind still drifted to the Masked Piper incident. “Civil servant and God’s little chosen,” she muttered under her breath. “The real deal, a darklord that ain’t posin’.” She was in a bit of trouble, though, from what being outnumbered represented elsewhere. Two monsters that she couldn’t attack and didn’t want to spend cards removing could be turned into one big monster, and if it was the right big monster… well, she supposed she’d have to get to that if it got to that. She had tricks still, and the D-boyz had dealt two thousand damage to the Spike Brother in the meantime, halving his life total. “I will, uh, set two cards and end my turn,” Melissa said, and the face-downs materialized behind her. “Ha! That’s all? Alright, draw!” Spike Brother Eight said. “Now, check this one out. I’ll sacrifice one of the Boyz to bring out this bad boy!” He did just that, and out came a hulking machine with flails instead of arms. It was a Spikebot, and Melissa noticed that it, like her Fairy, had eighteen hundred Attack. The Spike Brother had done all this with much more confidence than he should have, though at least he wasn’t finished. “I’ll equip it with this Big Bang Shot and attack your weak little spirit. Crush it, bro!” One of the flails on the Spikebot’s arm glowed with power. It was only four hundred Attack’s worth of power, though surely the additional piercing added some aesthetic when the only attack target wasn’t in Attack Position already. The Spikebot whirled its flail around and around, then above its head before crashing down on Melissa’s Fairy, who bravely tried to guard against it, but couldn’t stand up to the extra energy. “Losing four hundred life hurts, but I have a response to my creature getting destroyed,” Melissa said. “I’ll activate Setup- er, cut? Set uppercut?” She got it on the third try. “Setuppercut. Because a monster of mine was destroyed by battle, I can Special Summon a monster from my hand or deck in face-down Defense position. I’ll choose…” This one she remembered. There were only so many tribute monsters in the deck, and not all of them could even be grabbed by Setuppercut most of the time. “uh, Nobleman-eater Bug,” Melissa said. The card briefly flashed on the field before folding down in front to guard its controller. “Tch, fine, guess D-Boyz don’t get to attack. Guess I’m ending my turn, then.” One thing Melissa noticed was Spike Brother Eight actually pronounced the word “Tch,” he didn’t just tisk as some sort of interjectory sound. Another thing was that he didn’t switch his one hundred Attack D-Boyz monster to defense position when he had the chance, so maybe Fen really was okay even with her Interceptomato play. She’d have time to check in just a moment, the writing was on the wall over here. Melissa drew a card and said, “First thing: I would like to Flip Summon my Nobleman-Eater Bug. It destroys two monsters, so I’ll choose your two.” The description of a giant bug devouring a group of gangsters and their pet giant combat robot was too graphic to comprehend, much less put into words, but the end result came out as expected. “The other thing I would like to do is Summon another monster,” Melissa said. “This one’s just a Normal monster. It’s Shining Friendship.” It was another Fairy-type, this one even less like the ones Melissa was used to. Shining Friendship was more of an abstraction of what it even meant to be a Fairy-type monster. It was a small little blob with wings and a friendly smile plastered across its body. What mattered here, though, was that it had thirteen hundred Attack, and that combined with the Nobleman-Eater Bug’s… “I would like to go to my Battle Phase now,” Melissa said, “and I will have my monsters attack your Life Points directly.” If the Nobleman-Eater’s attack was indescribable, Shining Friendship’s was even worse. Spike Brother Eight reeled as the two attacks struck home and the holographic images of the cards fizzled and went out. “I can’t believe you. You got so freaking lucky!” he said. “What the freak are those crappy cards doing winning, huh?” “Um, good game,” Melissa said. “I hope you enjoy your movie.” She couldn’t stay to do much more than that, though. She had to go check on Fen.
  6. Belladonna was staring at her, so it was only natural for Quinn to stare back. Quinn had always been good at staring contests, even before their death, and he was pretty confident he could win this one too if push came to shove. That was to say, if it was a staring contest, anyway. It was also quite possible that zey just had something on their face. Quinn wiped her mouth with her arm but maintained eye contact all the while. Even as Belladonna took a few careful steps, Quinn kept at it just to make sure. Cassiopeia was staring too. She was mostly hiding behind Quinn just peeking out over the ghost’s shoulder but Quinn could feel her stare all the same. Really, Quinn was not sure what to make of Belladonna. Even besides the times Belladonna pretended to be dead, which was always confusing -- who could pretend something so terrible? -- what struck Quinn the most about the girl was how she seemed entirely unprepared for any of this. Did Belladonna not know what she was signing up for when she came aboard the SS Rising Sun? Was she cognizant of what awaited her in the future? She was quite inscrutable, or perhaps that was just her ragged, seasickness-stained attire. Still, she was nice to be around, if only because she seemed more accepting than most about Quinn’s… condition. Nathaniel was too. Most people would have at least asked to hear an explanation a second or third time, but these two just went along with everything Quinn said without even a single question. “I need to buy stamps,” Quinn said, repeating himself a little bit as they finally broke eye contact to give Belladonna a once-over, “and you need to buy new clothes.” Quinn’s first sign that there was one more person on the docks was feeling Cassiopeia jerk suddenly, alerting her companion to the young girl with shorts and the attitude to match. The youngster was actually much more polite than Quinn had been expecting of rival trainers. The way her parents had put it, it was frequently a dichotomous choice between two different types of violence, the Pokémon kind or the physical -- a physical kind that, to their parents’ insistence, could even affect ghosts. It was nice to see that the first encounter was with someone who was a bit overly excited at most. Fae was ready to accept, but Nathaniel got the jump on them. “If it’s a battle you want, I’ll take you on,” he said, but then he seemed to hesitate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to just claim dibs on the first battle.” “No, it is alright,” Quinn said. “Just because this is your first battle does not mean you are superseding my own. I can have my first some other time. Here, I will pre-emptively call ‘dibs’ on the next battle, and Belladonna and I can go prepare for the odyssey ahead while you two scrap. You said Poké balls, antidotes, potions, and what else?” That plus clothes, plus the other miscellanea, they would likely go clean through the small stipend Quinn had received as part of winning that art contest, but they could pool their resources, could they not?
  7. gonna be in a car for like six of the next nine hours for a concert ama
  8. Dearest Mother and Father, By the time you read this, the SS Rising Sun will have arrived at New Point Landing of the Korova region, and my grand excursion will have properly begun. I do have to thank you again for your care package. I have already made great use of the stain remover, and the contents of the little pill bottle have proven very helpful in adapting my corporeal form to the ocean waves. Cassiopeia enjoyed the candy you packed for her as well. I worry you spoil her even more than I do! I tried to find you in my dreams last night, were you looking for me? I could not find you, and you have my apologies for that. I could not help but return to the more abstract and dreadful regions of the astral plane. I have described to you before, I am sure, the various dangers I have encountered, but what struck me this time was the utter lack of sound. It was a deafening silence, the kind that can strip away the ego and leave nothing behind but an empty shell. When I returned to the material world, I had to spend several minutes lying motionless just listening to the water crash against the boat before my wits returned to me. I do not mean to make you worry, though. I am handling it well. You will be pleased to learn that I have already made new friends who are also undertaking adventures of their own. I met each of them individually, and it turned out by fortuitous happenstance that they had already acquainted themselves with each other! My encounter with Nathaniel was so marvelous the margins of this letter are too narrow to contain it, but I will describe my meeting with Belladonna as you may find it entertaining. Cassiopeia and I were wandering one of the decks of the ship. It was midday, but the clouds had just parted after a particularly violent storm, so there was hardly anyone else around. The crew had only just put the chairs back out. We were looking out at the horizon and experiencing the sublime vastness of the ocean beneath our feet when we noticed the body of a woman lying in one of those chairs. I thought she was dead! I thought the storm had proven so exhausting for her that she had either left for new worlds or joined me in the interstice between them. I poked her. I had to. My curiosity would not allow me otherwise. My cheeks flush just recalling the moment, because, of course, she was not, even if she said she wished she was in that moment. Thankfully, we are already past the point of grudges and on to what I suspect will be gentle ribbings where appropriate. I am sure someday I will have similar gaffs to make about their behavior too. The horn has just sounded announcing our arrival at the docks, and Cassiopeia is looking at me with an antsy expression on her face. I will have more for you soon, but I must be going now, first to find my companions, then to a mailbox, and then, adventure! Sending love, even in death, QuinnQuinn looked over their letter with quite a sense of satisfaction over how it had all turned out. The way he saw it, people either had very good handwriting or very poor, with no in-between, and Quinn was proud to be of the former category. “See? All done,” she said, showing the letter to Cassiopeia. Either the Drifloon could read or she made a very strong impression of doing so, and gave off a happy sort of hum when she had finished regardless of which it was. “I knew you would approve,” Quinn said. “Come now, we really must be going. All right, then. Now, just to double-check…” They made one final loop around their cabin, making sure they had everything a good ghost needed to go on a Pokémon adventure (or at least everything that they had packed to take along with them. All the clothes had been cleaned, toiletries were all put away, ze had either stowed or put on any personal effects… it all seemed just so. Once hir pens had been put away, the only things left loose in the cabin were the letter and Cassiopeia herself. “Would you like to be in your ball?” Quinn asked, “Or would you- Oh!” Cassiopeia had refused, instead nuzzling right up to Quinn and looping her strings around its wrist. “I was only asking in case it was windy, you silly balloon. We do not want a repeat of two days ago.” Again, Cassiopeia made a noise and rubbed her face on Quinn’s. “Alright, you win,” Quinn said. “But we really must be going.” Their cabin was pretty far away from the gangplank, which made Quinn worry that they might be keeping the rest of the group waiting, though that turned out not to be the case. Quinn and Cassie stood just off to the side, scanning everyone else coming off, looking for the two familiar people on the whole ship, listening to the dockmaster give a welcome to each and every passenger with the same laugh every time. Fortunately, it was not windy, even if that meant Cassiopeia got to float around all vindicated and full of herself. It was quite a while before Belladonna and Nathaniel stumbled off the ship, and Quinn rushed over to meet them as soon as she spotted them. “My friends!” she said. “Hello! I just have to purchase some stamps and a few other supplies and then-” For the second time that day, though, they were interrupted, as Belle broke from Nathaniel’s shoulder and collapsed onto the dock. She had seen this before, of course. In fact, Quinn remembered doing similar things when they were alive. Sometimes, when you did not want to do something, the only recourse was to not do anything. But that would not do for Quinn. They did not just go through the effort of making new friends and explaining their condition to them enough times until they accepted it, just to abandon them as soon as they were off the boat. Quinn could not help himself. While Nathaniel desperately tried to tempt Belladonna with lemonade, Quinn kneeled down next to her and, for the second time this trip, gave her a good poke in the arm.
  9. Did it hit different, to be called pathetic and insufferable in real life as opposed to in a direct message from some nobody author who was upset Z. had revealed their fanfic -- about how, say, some nameless character from panel number seven of strip four hundred and twenty-three of some mid-tier fantasy webcomic was the true daughter of the empress and heir to the throne, for example -- was maybe, just maybe, a bit too niche to work as a joke and too much of a joke to work as anything else? Yeah, it did. Obviously, it did. Z. was still too mad to be actually hurt by it, though, and was about to fire back when Jirachi said something about not being able to take back anything, and as loathe as Z. was to take advice from random strangers, being quiet for that extra amount of time it took for the mythical pokémon to speak was enough to at least reconsider their approach. “Sure,” Z. said. “Yeah, Let’s not going to say anything you’re going to regret. I won’t say anything, even, just for you.” That was that matter settled -- to Z., at least -- which got Z. to calm down a little bit more, down to just their usual level of ornery, just in time for people to start asking some real stupid questions. Hector, for example, well, first it took him a moment to even piece the voice thing together, even after Z. had called Jirachi “star command” like a minute ago, and now he was insistently crawling towards some point in his ill-remembered life, something Z. was very sure was never mentioned on the forum, so why would he even try to claim it now? And Chester was trying to sus out their location, which was almost smart for a moderator, even if something more past-tense like “Where were we? Where is that mystery dungeon in relation to us?” would have been more to Z.’s taste, more helpful in getting a mental lay of the land than just a solitary point. Ears and that Clobbopus were still fucking off somewhere. Z. almost wanted to go join them instead of all this nonsense, but they did have an actual question for Jirachi that would be useful instead of all this noise. “Yeah, okay, sure, get called to another world to save it,” they said. “Hey, out of curiosity, when I go to talk shit about you later, what pronouns should I use? How should I refer to you? I know you said we could call you Jiji but no, that’s not going to happen.”
  10. “Double-teaming the ghost, huh?” Brian repeated Carmen’s words back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Maybe you really are a pervert. Alright, well, that’s fine with me. Men’s restroom it is.” They marched back into the school- well, Brian marched anyway. He didn’t look behind to see how Carmen followed. The bathroom was back to how one might expect it to be. Brian wasn’t sure what Carmen assumed a men’s bathroom would look like, actually. “Hope it’s to your liking,” he said. “Dunno what you expected, really. Anyway, the haunted one is over there.” He stuck a thumb towards the corner. Now that he was here, though, he wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Like, did they just rush the toilet again to draw the ghost out? Just because the ghost had only demonstrated a trick or two so far and a(n admittedly unnerving) face didn’t mean that it didn’t have more tricks and was just going with what worked in the meantime. He rubbed the bottom of his shoe for a rock that had gotten stuck in there and tossed it the toilet’s way once he retrieved it. The way it bounced and clacked felt wrong, but that was more a him problem than it was a ghost problem. Brian gripped the flashlight and handed it over to Carmen along with another handful of seals. “I already know what you’re gonna say,” he said. “But it’s either you keep a light on the toilet and run in with the seals after I draw the ghost out, or you do the ghost wrestling. Though you might have to stick some on the ghost too, I dunno.” He clicked the flashlight on and off a few times, partially out of nervousness and partially to reiterate who was taking what. He also looked at the toilet, looked back at Carmen, and sighed. Even if he were having second thoughts, he’d already brought her in here. He’d already foisted the “pervert” label on her. She’d talked about not leaving behind a body and here he was getting real close to letting himself end up just like that. These thoughts cumulated into a simple set of five or six words. “God, what a job, huh?” Brian said. “Ready?”
  11. All This I Do For Glory “It’s alright,” the Archangel Lailah said. “These things can always be rebuilt. There are crews, artisans who can restore everything to its original state if you pay them well enough, and I am sure that the Church could find the necessary funds if asked politely. I hear there is even a woman who can reshape whole buildings to her liking now, though I believe she is currently a Gibbon if I remember correctly.” “I wouldn’t go speaking even more ill of Babs,” Lucky Cat, the woman who had burst in behind everybody, said. “She’s already panicked hearing about that shitty mural last week… feeling threatened… nearly inconsolable. If she starts to worry more, won’t be able to be held responsible for our actions.” Lucky Cat had taken a spot in one of the nearby pews and had propped up her feet, clearly not taking any of this all that seriously, though a closer inspection revealed that she was generating a dreadful sort of aura, expanding outwards from her and increasing at a noticeable pace. “Alright,” Lailah said. “Well, I am sure it doesn't mean anything, but you have my apologies. For both this and what happens after.” She raised her voice and mirrored what Thessa had just proclaimed. “Carol, my friend, perhaps it would be best to get the Union on the line? And stay right there, it may get a little hectic.” Not that Sibyl probably needed to see it, but The Fates had sent her a slew of messages as well. sup gamerrrr hey just to let you know got an all hands on deck thing going on at goodale so you know bring all four hands or as many hands as you cna manage these days lol see you soon bestie *can It may have been for the best if she didn’t see it, since Hellhound and Censer were already charging in. Censer threw down another layer of smoke and Hellhound and she burst through it once again. The two were almost upon the group, now. Hellhound’s little dog was running alongside them, though “little” was becoming less and less of an accurate descriptor. The beast that used to just be carried around in a satchel of sorts was now waist-height, and had grown a few extra appendages out of its back that had what looked like feelers at the end of them. The dog was starting to look more like a cat, too, and it was still changing, growing bigger still. The biggest worry for the four in the middle, though, was Arcturus. She had risen back up into the air, hands in front of her stomach, between which she had developed a little ball of wind, a little gust of energy, and, when she was satisfied, she sent it into the middle of the group. It was not aimed at anybody in particular -- that wasn’t the point of it. The point was to separate them all, a force- a shunting that drove the four capes apart, one in each direction. Victor to the east -- her way -- the Archangel northward towards Lucky Cat, Sibyl down towards Censer and Hellhound, and Thessa westward away from her towards Vambrace who was charging up the machines on his wrist and ready to strike. OOC
  12. It hurt to breathe, but in a different way from, say, a broken rib or some other physical ailment that Chris had experienced before. It hurt to breathe because it took energy to breathe, and he had lost a lot of it just then. Thankfully, there weren’t many things left out to kill them, even if one of those things had proven to be the hardest thing to kill thus far. Chris wondered how good Estellise was good at healing magical damage. He hoped it was easier, like, good magic just cancelled out the negative stuff. That made sense to him, at least. The thing that he had to deal with in the meantime was the spectral hand floating toward him. He stabbed it with his sword. The sword passed right through the hand, though, crawling up through the blade like it wasn’t even there. Chris almost let out an annoyed chuckle at that, but managed to contain it before it turned into a coughing fit. He stepped back and tried a few more times, just in case it was just a one-time deal or something, but no such luck. The hand wasn’t about to be stopped by anything Chris had up his sleeve. He looked to one side, and there was a cultist stabbing Lana in the arm, but it was casting magic still so maybe- wait, no, that first thing was more important. Lana had just taken a dagger to the arm, and was in severe danger of taking another. Even in the state that he was in, he had to try. It felt like he was running in slow motion, and he had to get around the hand still locked onto his position, but he wasn’t that far gone. He had his sword arm outstretched, even if he couldn’t manage an actual thrust, at least he could let his momentum carry once he started going.
  13. with each passing year sr-71's song 1985 gets sadder and sadder

    1. LordCowCow

      LordCowCow

      So does Bowling For Soup's

    2. Hina's Simp

      Hina's Simp

      Mooboy,

       

      their the same song in case you didn't know.

       

    3. Mr Spaz

      Mr Spaz

      Bowling For Soup's cover came out 19 years ago. It also came out 19 years after 1985.

  14. Z. stared at Hector like the Falinks had grown a third eye, or a thirteenth eye, as the case may be. It wasn’t that they were unused to receiving compliments or thanks (even if the whole “Pokémon” thing meant they couldn’t remember times they had), but Z. hadn’t woken up the Jirachi for anyone else but themselves. They certainly weren’t doing it to save a washed-up ex-mod who had run into them and pressed them against a wall only a few hours earlier. Being right about everything had put them in a good mood, though, so they didn’t do more than that. “Yeah,” they said. Hearing the Jirachi’s voice was where things started to sour. It was a sing-song sort of voice and it talked in a way that implied it wasn’t about to take responsibility for any trouble it caused -- past, present, or future. It was also the sort of thing Z. just knew would be transcribed with a little tilde at the end, just to make sure everyone knew exactly how to read it as if actual god-given adjectives and learning how to write a proper patter weren’t enough tools already. For one particular sporking, Z. wrote, “The author has placed a marker in the dialog letting you know that this character is practically singing their lines. Unfortunately, like the character, the song only has one note.” Healing everyone was a first step toward getting over some of that, but Z. was pretty sure they could do that too now if they tried, so they just found the associated spectacle unnecessary. And things just kept going wrong. Z. had still been ruminating on Jirachi’s non-forgiveness, responding to a potential apology from Z. that would never come when Es decided to continue the introductions -- when Es decided to reveal to the world that she didn’t actually know Z.’s name. “My pal Zed,” Es said. “Zeddy here.” Okay. So. It was probably unhealthy, or at least said something about Z. that they saw so much red now instead of during one of their several fights, both as a Pokémon and as a human, but see red they did. Old forum drama came to mind. Four months after coming out as nonbinary, Z. had announced their name change, which reignited the drama that had flared up when they’d actually come out. It didn’t need to be relitigated here. They didn’t need to think about it again, but they’d had to fight for their name. They didn’t remember doing it in their human life, but they could feel it in their bones. It translated into a different sort of Z. than they had been the past few hours. They were quieter and more deliberate as they spoke. “Cute trick,” they said, looking straight ahead -- not at Es or Jirachi or anyone else, “pre-empting me, saying I give out insults as a sort of compliment, daring me to respond with something else. I do threaten and insult a lot. Maybe they lose their effectiveness with each new jab. Sure. Alright. I’ll work with that.” They turned to Es and looked the Rotom square in the eye, catching her at the end of one of her zips. “Starting now, I will mean what I say. I will be exact, so you know if I say I’m going to hurt you, I am going to hurt you. My name is Z. It’s spelled with a z and then a period after that. If I ever hear you say otherwise again, I will seize upon you, find your asshole, and demonstrate why most things with a head like yours need a flared base. If you don’t have an asshole on account of being a ghost or whatever, I will give you one with my own claws.”
  15. “Bestie?” Z. repeated the word once for every time someone said it to them. “Bestie?” Where was this coming from? They and Es had hung out, like, twice, maybe three times maximum, and one of those times was still tainted by Es not getting Z.’s sick reference. Even if Z. was charitable, that wasn’t really “bestie” material. The only other way it would work in Z.’s mind was if they’d had some sort of banter going on the forums since that was the only other point of memory, but Z. was pretty active and they were sure that, whoever Es was, she really hadn’t been. So they weren’t besties and they hadn’t been besties. Those two matters were settled, then. The only other thing Z. could think of, aside from a jest (and Es didn't seem like the type to jest about this, it was either earnestness or a mistake) was that it was a claim about the future. They and Es were going to be besties. While Z. liked that sort of confidence and had seen how Es was receptive to some of Z.’s advice, Z. still felt like they needed a bit more before they could say the same, and floundering against a sleeping Pokémon wasn’t going to cut it. It felt like a meme. “The fuck are they doing over there?” Aside from the bestie drama, Hector had been reduced to just an H, and Chester, the actual mod of the group, alternated between hitting Jirachi and arguing with Marv. Every fight they got into seemed to devolve into a mess, really, like, Z. didn’t know what was going on when they were asleep, but they figured if the fight had gone well in their absence, they probably would have woken up in the dungeon and kept going through that instead of waking up in some abandoned arboreal paradise. And when they put it like that, well, that just meant they’d have to whip everyone into shape later, but it also gave them a reason to respond to Es’ call for help without reinforcing narratives that were a bit more aspirational than others. They left the Clobbopus with a “Seriously, go jump in a lake, and not, like, ‘go jump in a lake’ like ‘you’re pissing me off,’ go jump in a lake like ‘immerse yourself in water like the octopus you are until every last dirt molecule has been excised from your body.’ Scrub if you have to. I guess I’ve gotta go deal with this.” With that, they wheeled around and made their way past Marv and Chester, to a spot close to Es and especially close to the Jirachi. “How do you not know how to wake someone up?” Z. said. “Don’t get the wrong idea, your way was just the closest.” They channeled all their effort into replicating the burst of energy -- and burst of noise -- that Es had produced, and leaped up. When they were right next to the Jirachi’s ear, Z. screamed, “Hey, you little off-brand funko pop! You had a movie suck twenty years ago and decided to take it out on the only Pokémon who might know about that shit, huh?! If you’re going to pull a star command joke and then be asleep at the wheel the moment we pop out, why don’t you make like your shapesake and go burn up in the mesosphere?! At least then you’d cause a little bit of joy before you go!” That did it. Whether because of the action or the actual words being spoken, the Jirachi stirred and actually blinked a few times. Even if it wanted to go back to sleep, it had already let the light of a tropical midday into its eyes. Z. landed back on the ground with a healthy amount of satisfaction; they couldn’t help but grin at their success. “That’s how it’s done,” they said.
  16. I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you. -Psalm 32:8 (NIV)Thankfully, the starter decks came with a little rulebook explaining the rules, so Melissa wasn’t left completely helpless in the teaching process. Also helpful was discovering a little app on their watches that could replicate any sort of dueling field they wanted, whether that was just a playmat with all the little zones labeled (though without any pendulum zones or extra monster zones, Melissa noticed) or replicating an actual duel disk. had little AR elements that made the monsters pop out of the cards, which was flashy, but Melissa worried they were distracting when actually going through a teach. Problems arose, though, when the Duel Monsters in Melissa’s head contradicted what was actually in front of her. There were a bunch of little inconsistencies that Melissa was sure wouldn’t have flown in her world, little bits of card text that were just a little off. Sure, she wasn’t the most skilled player on Ambrosia -- she wasn’t even the best player in Blue Yonder, not by a long shot -- but even she could tell. The four thousand life points instead of eight was one thing, but the first player getting a draw step? That one really threw her for a loop. Melissa wasn’t a game designer. She had no desire to ever be a game designer. But it still felt like a violation of some principle. People wanted to go first even without the extra card, why add that in? And speaking of extra cards, the starter deck she had bought came with forty-five in the main deck so she had to take a little extra time finding which of the dozen or so normal monsters were actually worth keeping to slim it down to a proper forty. The rest of the deck seemed interesting with some cute synergies already provided, but she didn’t really have the time to learn them at the moment. In any case, the aids made teaching Fen go faster than it could have, and even then, well… “Normal Summoning is just playing the monster. You put it into play or Set it, though if it’s a higher level it takes one or two tributes to do so. You get one of those per turn,” Melissa said. She wasn’t frustrated, but there was still a hint in her tone that she had explained this before. “Cards will tell you how to Special Summon something, and most of the time that will be face up and oriented how you like, but some cards will say otherwise. And Ritual Summoning is a type of Special Summoning and is how you summon these blue cards here --” she pointed at Hungry Burger again “-- and cards like this with the little campfire symbol will tell you how to do those. Depending on the card, you can cheat that a bit, but the game wants you to do it like that. Otherwise, things get even more complicated.” “Oh, hm. I see.” Fen nodded her head, trying to take in the information. Thinking on it for a moment, she looked at her cards saying, “You know, there are a uh, lot more ways to Special Summon than Normal Summon, right? Doesn't that make the Normal Summon feel more Special?” “I like to think of it like this:” Melissa said, “Any monster- uh, almost any monster can be Normal Summoned. It takes a special effect to make a Special Summon.” Fen looked at the two ritual cards laid out in front of her. “Hm, I guess it does take more effort to bring them,” she said. She smiled. “Thanks, Melissa. I think I'm starting to get the hang of these terms.” Melissa smiled back. “You’re very welcome. I’m sure you’ll have more questions, but that should just about cover things. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”They did have to go somewhere eventually, though. Melissa and Fen made sure Bradley wasn’t lurking around anywhere before leaving the card store, and, after making sure they didn’t have anything else that needed doing in the megamall, they went over to the park with the fountain. Melissa still remembered crossing that threshold the first time and having the park literally disappear behind her back. The fact that it was an ordinary park when not welcoming people stolen from other worlds was surprising to her, though perhaps not as surprising as finding it clearly used but abandoned. Everywhere Melissa looked, there were signs of people, and yet there were no Pranans (Pranese? Pranians?) to be found. She was about to ask if there was a bingo event or something they were missing when the Spike Brothers appeared. “Oh no,” Melissa whimpered. She had just gotten used to being “known,” but there were still people she didn’t want to “know” about her, and that list included the gang that had harassed her on her first day. She almost let Sandalphon out to scare them off once again, but a few things stopped her. The first reason was that these Spike Brothers didn’t actually recognize her, they just seemed to recognize the idea of her. “Fresh fish without a clue in the world,” one had said, missing any of the “freak” rhetoric that she still remembered so vividly. So her immediate fear was assuaged. The second reason was, well, with those fears gone, she was left with a confused sort of curiosity. How did the Spike Brothers get her number? How did they get Fen’s when they definitely hadn’t met her? She wasn’t sure the Spike Brothers were the sort of people who would answer questions like that, but it was still a thread she was willing to pull. Lastly, well, this was what she was taught back on Ambrosia. The reason she learned how to duel in the first place was because dueling was so ingrained as a replacement for physical violence. It was better for everyone to settle things with a card game like this. Even with all these new and terrifying things, this was the one thing familiar to her now. She’d been challenged to a duel, and the consequences for declining a challenge were worse than just going along. Melissa looked at Fen with a sheepish, calming sort of smile. “This is a bit more live fire than I was hoping,” she said. “But, um, it’s a good thing we downloaded that watch app, I guess? Here, let me-” She helped Fen make sure her duel disk app was set up right and reminded her how it all worked. “The monsters will be bigger than the ones in the store, but they’ll still be fake,” she said. “Probably. Um. At the very least, it shouldn’t be worse than anything we’ve seen already. Remember, I’ll be right next to you, too, if you run into any other questions, okay?”
  17. first ten seconds 7/10 rest of the song also 7/10 it turns outOP Suggestion: once again king gizzard and the lizard wizard are putting out a new album gila gila gila gila gila gila gila monster 7.5/10
  18. God, he needed to smoke. Or he needed to munch on some sunflower seeds or… Fuck, he needed something! Brian kept his hands balled in his pockets as he paced around outside. It beat checking the contents of the van for the twentieth time. Yes, there was more stuff in it that could potentially be useful when facing off all manner of ghosts, but Brian couldn’t actually think of anything worth using and Carmen had largely been unhelpful, preferring to stay silent and watch as he fumbled around. He wondered what Ms. White was thinking, too, if she could even manage to look up from her rosary or whatever she was doing locked in the office like that. When Carmen asked her question, Brian’s immediate reaction was, “Holy shit, you’re talking,” but it was a good enough question to get him to actually answer instead of just brushing it off there. “I guess there are a lot of reasons for a ghost to be in a school restroom, though I’ve never been a ghost so I can’t give any one answer from experience,” he said. “Could be she particularly hated school, could be school was the only place she felt comfortable and she fled here even in death and just needs to take a fucking ghost chill pill. Maybe the reason she’s in both bathrooms is a gender thing, though I definitely don’t have any experience with that. You want to ask her?” He stuck a thumb back towards the van. “There’s probably a ouija board in there if we look again and if there isn’t we can jerry-rig one up. Wouldn’t be too hard. Maybe a spirit box too if we should be so lucky.” He wasn’t pacing anymore, at least. Now he was stretching, locking one elbow in another and twisting his body around. It was kind of better. “The other option would be to, like, I dunno, the ghost looks like a normal person except no face where the face should be, so that’s only two arms to grab you with. One person could keep her busy while the other one seals her up, I guess. It does mean one of us is going to have to be a pervert, though. Just this once.” Another, stupider thought came to mind, and he laughed in spite of himself. “Or we could just bonk her. She felt real enough in there, maybe it just takes a good flashlight shot to the head.”
  19. seems like a fun song to play in front of a crowd and some of the guitar really tickled my "that's a good sound" nerve 7/10 8/10 yeah squarepusher's pretty coolfucked up has been teaming up with the halluci nation (formerly a tribe called red) which to me is like combining chocolate and peanut butter 8.5/10
  20. “You know, I just fought guys like you the other day,” Chris said. His encounter with the Kalo family goons had been what, yesterday? Two days ago? It was hard to keep track of when the dungeon magically reset the day when they left it. “Back then, it was three of them at once, and now here, I just have to focus on the one.” At least this cultist knew how to shut up. That was appreciated. Like, even if it was waving a dagger around and gesturing wildly in a way that suggested magic, at least it wasn’t telling him to know his place or anything like that. They were almost on equal ground. When they fired off their beam, Chris dropped to the ground, and as the magic sailed over his head, he kicked the cultist’s legs out from under them, so they really were on equal ground then. Chris recovered first by virtue of expecting it, and scrambled to his feet only to fall on the cultist again, driving his sword into their chest. There was a problem, though. Technically, there were two problems, but both of them stemmed from the fact that the cultist wasn’t quite dead yet and someone looming over you was a hell of a target. Dodging the wild dagger stabs was easy enough, but he was so focused on that he didn’t notice the approaching, more ethereal hand until it was too late and had already grabbed him. Chris wanted to strike back, but he suddenly didn’t have the energy to do so. More magic, just without the rays. “Cheap trick,” Chris mumbled. Still, if he was going to fall over, at least he could try to fall over in a way where he could pin the cultist’s dagger-arm to the ground and let his own sword fall in for another stab.
  21. Z. regarded the stream in a sort of mock disbelief. “Everywhere we go, more water, huh?” they said. “There’s always something in the way.” They didn’t try swimming in it; the current looked a bit too fast and the consequences of getting swept out to sea were a bit too dangerous for a Zorua still getting used to their body, but they did go up and stick their paw in it just to test it all the same. It was cold, but it was a different sort of cold than the stream they had swum through in the dungeon. It wasn’t uncomfortable, either, probably because it was so fucking hot! Who knew that being covered toe-to-tip in fox fur was a real damper on a body that was supposed to self-regulate its temperature? Still, the existence of one wet paw with a dry rest of the body also wasn’t ideal, and Z. dried it again, alternating between shaking it wildly and rubbing it in the streamside grass before returning to the water and pondering it some more. The whole experience reminded them of another moment early in the cave, after drying off, yes, but how they recalled the appearance of a wet Zorua while arguing with the Clobbopus. Yes, they’d also failed at imitating said Clobbopus right after, but the only point of dwelling on that memory was cringing on it later after they’d figured this shit out. They still had to focus on what worked. They stared down at their reflection and tried to pull that memory out again, of actually swimming, of water still hanging onto their fur as they pulled themselves out on the other side. It was hard to tell if it worked by sight alone -- The stream didn’t provide the best reflective surface, what with all the rushing water in the way -- but that feeling returned, and now that they were by themselves, they could actually analyze what that feeling meant. It was a weird one, to be sure. Z. simultaneously felt soaked and not-soaked at the same time, or maybe it was just that they felt the water but knew it was fake. Little globules of water fell off their fur and disappeared in the grass. It also didn’t require as much mental upkeep as they expected, like, there was the initial effort, yeah, and there was still some maintenance, but if someone asked them to rub their stomach and pat their head at the same time, they could probably manage. Still, being able to be “a wetter version of themself” wasn’t wholly useful at the moment, so Z. switched to trying to remember an actual Pokémon. Of the Pokémon they had encountered thus far, they settled on Treeko, and closed their eyes. Even before they opened them, they knew something was wrong, and opening them again just confirmed it. “That looks more like a Froakie,” they said. Even in their ever-morphing reflection the water provided, they could tell that much at least. “And a really shitty one at that.” But it was still progress -- Z. felt good about that. They’d have to take a better look at things to see what they could pull from now. Speaking of paying more attention, Z. was just able to hear all the clamor over by the Jirachi, including at least two attacks and they rolled their eyes. “I know beating things unconscious is how Pokémon are supposed to interact with the world,” Z. said, “but how are you planning to do that to a Pokémon that’s already unconscious?” No, they wouldn’t be participating in that little scuffle. At the same time, there wasn’t really any more to glean just hanging out by the water, so they made their way back over to the Noibat. Clobbopus was also there, an impressive decision by him given how much of a fool he’d made of himself a few floors down. That said, he was talking about Jirachi being legendary, which gave Z.’s pedantry a free opening. “Isn’t Jirachi a mythical Pokémon, not a legendary one?” Z. said. “Totally different thing, right? There’s more water that way, if you’re curious. Freshwater, I mean. Maybe you could use it to clean yourself off or something. Jeeezus, you’re dirty.” They looked up at the Noibat too. “Hey, Ears, how’s the weather? Get a load of all this.”
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