#when she’s fully human she’s like a hive mind but one body | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wazzappp · 1 month

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I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

#Ive been trying to write this out for 3 hours now. how do fic writers do this shit. HOW.#moose i thought i understood your 'brainworms of a different type'. i was w r o n g #my art #ghost rider re7 au #lisa (ghost rider)#robbie reyes #gabe reyes #sketch #RE!lisa

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notstarcey · 1 month

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She Magnus on my archives til I

I itch all the time. Deep beneath my skin, where the bone sits, enshrined in flesh, I feel it. Something, not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free. It itches, and I don’t think I want it. I don’t know what to do.

You can’t help me. I don’t think so, at least. But whatever it is that calls to me, that wants me for its own, it hates you. It hates what you are and what you do. And if it hates you, then maybe you can help me. If I wanted to be helped. I don’t know if I do. You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. It isn’t right and I need help. I need it to be seen. To be seen in the cold light of knowledge is anathema to the things that crawl and slither and swarm in the corners and the cracks. In the pitted holes of the hive.

You can’t see it, of course. It isn’t real. Not like you or I are real. It’s more of an everywhere. A feeling. Are you familiar with trypophobia? That disgusted fear at holes, irregular, honeycombed holes. Makes you feel that itch in the back of your mind, like the holes are there too, in your own brain, rotten and hollow and swarming. Is that real?

I’m sorry, I know I’m meant to be telling you what happened. What brought me to this place. This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding. I’m sorry. I should. I will.

I… I haven’t slept in some time. I can’t sleep. My dreams are crawling and many-legged. Not just slithering and burrowing,. though it is the burrowing that draws me. They always sing that song of flesh. I hope you will forgive me for such a rambling story. I hope you will forgive me for a great many things, as it may be I do worse. I have that feeling, that instinct that squirms through your belly. There will be great violence done here. And I bleed into that violence.

Do you know, I wonder? As I watch you sitting there through the glass. Eating a sandwich. Do you know where you are? You called me “dear”. “Have a seat, dear.” “You can write it down, dear.” “Take as much time as you need, dear.” Can you truly know the danger you are in?

There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. A fat, sprawling thing that crouches in the shadowed corner. It thrums with life and malice. I could sit there for hours, watching the swirls of pulp and paper on its surface. I have done. It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them. Sings that I am beautiful. Sings that I am a home. That I can be fully consumed by what loves me.

I don’t know how long the nest has been there. It’s not even my house, I just live there. Some sweaty old man thinks he owns it, taking money for my presence as though it will save him. I used to worry about it, you know. I remember, before the dreams, I would spend so long worrying about that money. About how I could afford to live there. Now I know that whatever the old man thinks, as he passes about the house with brow crinkled and mouth puckered in disapproval, it is not his. It has a thousand truer owners who shift and live and sing within the very walls of the building. He does not even know about the wasps’ nest. I wonder how long he has not known. How many years it has been there.

Have you ever heard of the filarial worm? Mosquitoes gift it with their kiss and it grows and grows. It stops water moving round the human body right, makes limbs and bellies swell and sag with fluid. Now, when I look at that fat, sweaty sack, I think about it, and the voice sings of showing him what a real parasite can do.

How many months has it been like this? Was there a time before? There must have been. I remember a life that was not itching, not fear, not nectar-sweet song. I had a job. I sold crystals. They were clean, and sharp and bright and they did not sing to me, though I sometimes said they did. We would sell the stones to smiling young couples with colour in their hair. I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear. It didn’t matter, because no-one in the shop wanted to hear about the ants below it. I tried to tell them, to explain, but they did not care. The pretty young things complained and I left.

That was when I still called myself a witch. Wicca and paganism, I would spend my weekends at rituals by the Thames. I wanted something beyond myself, but could not stomach the priest or the imam or pujari of the churches. I knew better. I knew that it was not so simple as to call out to well-trodden gods. I never felt from my rituals anything except exhaustion and pride. I thought that those were my spiritual raptures.

I wish, deep inside, below the itch, that they were still my raptures. I have touched something now, though, that all my talk of ley lines and mother goddesses could never have prepared me for. It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms.

When did I first hear it? It wasn’t the nest, I’m sure of that. I never went in the attic. It was locked and I didn’t have a key. I spent a day sawing through the padlock with an old hacksaw. My hands were blistered by the end. Why would I have done that if I didn’t know what I would find? The face of the one who sang to me dwelling within the hidden darkness above me. I had seen no wasps. I know I hadn’t. There are no wasps in the nest. So how else would I have known that I needed to be there, to be in the dark with it, if it had not already been singing to me?

No, that’s not right. The nest does not sing to me. It is simply the face. Not the whole face, for the whole of the hive is infinite. An unending plane of wriggling forms swarming in and out of the distended pores and honeycombed flesh. The nest is nothing but paper.

Was it the spiders? There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’ I wondered if it was the spiders that made the gentle buzzing song. It was not. Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.

I used to pick at my skin. It was a compulsion. I would spend hours in the bathroom, staring as close as I could get to my face to the mirrors, searching for darkened pores to squeeze and watch the congealed oil worm its way out of my skin. Often I would end with swollen red marks where it had become inflamed with irritation or infection. Did I hear the song then?

Was it when I was a child, such a clear memory of a classmate telling me a blackhead was a hole in my face, and if I didn’t keep it clean it would grow and rot. Did I hear it then, as that image lodged in my mind forever? Or was it last year, passing by a strip of green they call a park near my house, after the rain, and watching a hundred worms crawl and squirm to the surface.

Perhaps I’ve always heard it. Perhaps the itch has always been the real me, and it was the happy, smiling Jane who called herself a witch and drank wine in the park when it was sunny. Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

I need to think. To clear my head. To try and remember, but remember what? I was lonely before. I know that. I had friends, at least I used to, but I lost them. Or they lost me. Why was it? I remember shouting, recriminations, and I was abandoned. No idea why. The memories are a blur. I do remember that they called me “toxic”. I don’t think I really knew what that meant, except that it was the reason I was so very painfully lonely. Was that it? Was I swayed and drawn simply by the prospect of being genuinely loved? Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

You can’t help me. I’m sure of that now. I have tried to write it down, to put it into terms and words you could understand. And now I stare at it and not a word of it is even enough to fully describe the fact that I itch. Because ‘itch’ is not the right word. There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why the hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note it’s every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.

I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had. The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid. There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. Perhaps it can soothe my itching soul.

#the magnus archives #tma shitpost #i have too many statements saved onto my phone #magnus archives #help

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unholyplumpprincess · 2 years

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Welcome Home

For @jack-o-cel !! Thank you so much for helping out my boy in his time of need.

If you’d like your own custom drabble/fic, I have a limited time event going to help out my partner bc bills are a bitch! Check it out: HERE

Reblogs > Likes. If you like this, reblog it to support future content like this + support your local writer and make her happy :D

Summary: You're a scientist who has a team that bonds with the xenomorphs in order to study them. You get more than you bargained for when one of the Knights courts you successfully. But, you have to go on a trip, riiiiight before his rut hits. So when you come home to the hive? Make sure you're ready.Or! In which you're a scientist banging an alien and go on a week trip and come back to the dick down of a life time.

Fandom: Aliens / Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Reader x Xenomorph

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, Breeding kink but with no pregnancy or actual breeding, Obviously you fuck an alien so if that ain’t your jam scoot on by, Inhuman dicks/Knotting

Words: 2.3k

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Xenomorphs. A curiosity of scientists and biologists everywhere. Curious hive-minded beings that seemed to adapt to any planet, any oxygen levels, any gravitational levels. Just seeming to adapt, adjust, and learn to survive just as quickly. Evolution at its finest.

For centuries, these things were regarded as creatures. Things that couldn’t feel nor understand like a human could- or the hunters that hunted them, the Yautja. The Yautja clearly had the same complexities that humans did, but as prior scientists watched Xenomorphs, the only answer they could come up with was something animalistic.

As you and your team found out, that wasn’t the case at all.

~Rest under the cut~

The hive your team had been tasked to watch had shown intense, complex emotions and understanding. They learned quickly and could communicate even with your team. But where the Yautja had their translators, the Xenomorphs had body language. They learned mimicry through your team, learning basic things from nodding to shakes of the head to more complex emotions like sneering.

This hive seemed to function more closely to a community. They had no Queen, at least not in the sense of one immobile being creating eggs. There was a Queen, and she was the largest of them all, but she could move around and seemed unable to copulate. She was the first your team had met, one of your fellow scientists having been the one to brave her, fully knowing they might have been slashed to pieces.

You blamed their horny mind, hopeful to die by the claws of a huge woman.

But it seemed the Queen had understood your team’s stance in terms of study and bonding. That you did not wish to kill, maim, or otherwise hurt them. But just...study. Study how they came to this planet and how they were thriving- let alone evolving at the rate they were.

On either side of her had been Knights, your team nicknamed them. She had two Knights, not as big as her by a long shot, but definitely bigger than the drones- or Pawns that walked about. They had huge shielded heads like she did, spiking up into a crown-like shape on the tops of their head. Spears, you’d later find in your studies. They used the spikes much like their tails; Like spears.

One of the Knights takes a shining to you during your studies.

Your team lives in a lab just outside the hive, interconnected by the Xenomorphs who happily helped build the thick black walls to connect. They all saw you as a part of the hive, making it easy to walk in and out. As long as you all respected the same culture and the Queen, it seemed cohabiting was the answer.

It helped that the Xenomorphs all seemed interested in learning from humankind in turn. Potato chips, as it turned out, seemed to be a favorite to thief for them.

Something eerie about hearing the crunching of said chips in the dark when you were in the hive.

In turn, you learn to bow to the Queen or kneel to her when she is within your sight. You learn that the Knights are to be respected the very same after you had a tail aimed at your throat. Hysterically, that becomes the one who takes a shining to you. You call him Prince, since his attitude is that akin to the Queen. A name he responds to nowadays.

You learn that the “Face Huggers” do not exist in this hive, but that the Xenomorphs have developed heat and rut cycles. The Queen does not breed, your team guesses due to not wanting other royalty in the way. But her Pawns, Knights, and others do.

Except they can’t seem to...with each other.

Evolution in their hive comes quickly, but it seems that is not fast enough for a new solution. Your team works alongside them, trying to figure out the answer. And then your team finds it.

To put it simply. The eggs cannot survive in cold temperatures. The Xenomorphs who can hold the eggs given to them are too cold internally for the eggs to survive. So, they start nesting them instead, trying to use gored animals as warm hosts. Your team helps once you learn, starting to incubate them and caring for them in this huge ‘nursery’.

You are tasked with incubation duty. Something Prince becomes interested in, constantly sitting watch with you as you meticulously and gently place every egg and inspect them for anything every single day.

You talk to him, and he begins to learn your mannerisms- how to reply to you, how to emulate external emotions, and how to mimic your body language. A shake of the head, nodding, huffing if he finds something amusing. Hell, he even tries smiling, showing off all fanged teeth and the inner mouth that snaps curiously forward.

You laughed nervously the first time he did it. Namely because his clawed hands had grabbed your head and tilted it up towards him, seemingly wanting you to watch if he was doing it right.

In turn, you learn his body language and replies. Certain hisses mean certain things, certain chuffs and huffs meaning just the same. And somewhere, somehow down along the line. Prince became attached to you. And you, to him.

Very attached.

Then before you knew it you were being courted. He brought you shiny things, soft furs carefully skinned and mimicking the blankets you had in the lab- of course without any fancy stitching. He brought you food even, or at least tried to a few times before he realized bloody corpses weren’t your speed. Then he started raiding your lab’s fridge, bringing you random foods from there that made you laugh.

In the end, it worked.

You ended up getting more than you bargained for, not that you ended up minding though. Not when you were bent in half in his den, gasping and crying out as one his clawed hands covered your eyes. The other holding onto your thigh to push you back so he had perfect access to fuck into you.

Becoming a bonded pair was just like if there had been two xenomorphs that were a bonded pair. He was protective of you and also insisted on either sleeping in your bed or trying to drag you back into his den. His den now had blankets and pillows carefully placed in it, furs he had skinned himself as well. As if he was trying to make it as comfortable for you as possible.

You think fondly of him on your current trip. Your family asks if you have a partner yet, if you’ve thought about kids, and you bite your cheek trying not to laugh. Instead, you tell them jokingly that your research required you to care for enough children to be satisfied eternally that you did not want any.

All they knew is that you were studying new life forms. Not how, not why, not where. A secret operation, of course. But, you had a family here as well.

Family you were inclined to visit for a week.

You know that Prince was concerned, not quite understanding what you meant by going away for seven moons. Your fellow team updated you, letting you know they were handling him just fine and that he just missed you. One of your fellow scientists had even sent a picture of Prince in your bed, buried in all your blankets and sheets and looking as pouty as an alien his stature could look.

But now, you’re on your way back to the lab. You made sure to shower and dress in new clothing, knowing that the hive wouldn’t take kindly to new scents. When the automatic shuttle stops outside your lab, you’re greeted by your team who welcome you back with hugs and updates.

There’s a low hiss that echoes within the walls of the lab and one of the other scientists pulls a face like she's trying not to laugh. You can’t help but smile back, tipping your head back to look up at the tall ceiling. Vaguely in the dark you can make out a shiny, dark shape.

“Hi, baby.” You croon out into the darkness. Instead of a hiss you hear this almost purring snarl echoed back at you. Before a huge body pounces, landing on the empty floor to the side of you.

He’s huge, a little bigger than last you saw him just this week. Seems his shed came and went quickly. The others have left the room now, letting you have a moment with Prince as you reach up, something he quickly understands as he leans down to your height.

You press a kiss to the smooth surface of his maw, avoiding the silver sharp teeth. Prince’s hands come down, gripping your waist and trying to draw you close to him. You know it to be a trick, but you allow it anyway. Already interlocking your arms behind the solid shield of his head.

In an instant he’s grabbing you tight. Taking off towards the hive chambers with your legs interlocking around the notches of his bony waist in turn. Not letting go until you enter his den, dropping you off in the center of it. A low indentation of rock filled with soft objects that makes you laugh as you fall into it.

When you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him in the dark, there’s only one light illuminating the den. A lantern you had stuck in here ages ago, dimmed by time. Prince is looming over you, long arms caging you, his imposing head nudging at your chest and chuffing against you in a scenting fashion. A similar expression to how you as humans desired to kiss.

“Hey, I took a shower,” You start to argue, only to gasp out when a claw hitches under your shirt and rips it off. It soon follows your breathy giggles, squirming as cold breath fans across your chest and going lower and lower. “I-Is it your season already?”

You hear a rumbling hiss from his chest, vaguely seeing the shine of his head in the way he nods. It’s almost frantic how his claws hitch into your pants. Tugging and tugging until you lift your hips to help him faster.

You spread your legs, hooking your own hands under your thighs and spreading yourself apart like a show. You feel cold drool hitting your cunt, making your hips jump backwards at the sensation before his cold maw is rubbing at you. The best he could do to give you sensation without splitting you apart with teeth or hands.

You were in for a ride.

Prince’s season meant staying in his den until he was satisfied. It also meant he was trying to fuck you like he was trying to breed you. Something you’re acutely aware as he now fucks you on all fours, his tail wrapped tight around your thigh to pull it apart and his arms keeping you up as your body trembles and shakes.

Not that you help him much by begging him to breed you and fuck you raw. Until your voice gave out and you wind up just gasping and moaning helplessly.

Each ribbed texture of his cock popping into you makes you whimper out, feeling how his knot presses at your hole but can’t get inside yet. Always trying to grind his hips against you and snarling whenever you whine that it won’t fit. Squirming against him just so he’d sink his claws into you a little and lean down to threaten his sharp teeth over your shoulder.

You sob out as you’re suddenly and abruptly pushed off his cock, his tail yanking you and sliding you into position on your back. You squirm until his long fingers wrap around your throat, not choking, just holding you. His other hand presses at your other thigh, forcing your legs apart as he hisses when he pushes himself back into you nice and slow.

Your eyes roll back, unfocused as your hips tilt upwards into his. The hand pressing at your thigh moves, fingertips gingerly brushing across your engorged clit. Carefully using only the rough, ribbed pad of his thumb to slide back and forth like how you showed him how you liked.

“Oh God-” You cry, reaching down to grab onto his forearm with desperation. You squeeze tight around his cock, knowing Prince appreciates it judging by the harsh thrust into you. Pressing until his knot presses at the rim of your hole before his hips pull back to fuck into you again. Always meeting at that same point. Never quite pressing inside you, but clearly wanting to.

He wouldn’t have eggs this season, and that you are thankful for. You wouldn’t have to worry about reminding him to pull out or knowing he’d feel as though he’d wasted a batch. Besides, his cum wasn’t compatible with your body to create any sort of hybrid- your team had done extensive research for that.

What? Had to be thorough.

Your eyes roll back as another wave of an orgasm reaches you. You arch your back off the nest, feeling his hand squeeze lightly around your throat with tiny pin pricks of his claws. It aids you, cumming with a loud cry from your own lips that is met by his own tense hiss and frantic humping of his hips.

You sob when Prince stops moving his hips, pulling out abruptly once again just to quickly start to bend you into a new position for him to sink into you. Rushing to roll you onto your side, pulling your leg up and over his shoulder. He presses forward into you, bending you in half and trapping you. His huge head leaning over you, drooling into your neck as you toss your head to the side in overstimulation and let your eyes roll back.

You’d be his doll until he was tired out. Something that could be hours from now. It would take him much longer to cum, and it’d only happen until he could fit his knot into you.

Something you know he’d take his sweet, sweet time on. Just to feel your warmth and heat around him.

What a hell of a welcome home gift.

#Aliens #Aliens vs predators #Xenomorph x Reader #xenomorph #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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screwnames-ihatenames · 6 months

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Donnie falls in some weird kinda “love”(platonic or not your choice but tbh I’m sticking with platonic for this) with the Technodrome and the Technodrome like plants something in his shell and will for random periods of time will control him but he isn’t aware of this and is writing it off as like dissociation as a trauma response and it gets worse with the Technodrome resorting to old it’s old roots with nothing to teach it how to be “humane” and nearly freeing sister krang which is when they catch on that all those times Donnie acted weird he wasn’t really Donnie and they conclude it’s the Technodrome as they hadn’t really talked about it before and when Mikey mentions it Casey goes berserk she’s that’s how F! Donnie died

Side effects that make them notice include:

1)Donnie growing paler due to the technodromes influence

2)forgetting basic needs or like legit not remembering to blink because the technodrome doesn’t need to

3)blue hyphae growing under his skin and inside him

Add ons:

No one mentioned the technodrome thing till like a month in or 2 (Eugh boy)

Donnie is fully conscious in his head he just can’t remember what happens while he’s there

After a while he does remember but it’s to far gone and Donnie can’t really control his body well enough to actually make a plan to tell anyone

Technodrome IS GOOD JUST LIKE REALLY DUMB AND EASLIY INFLUENCED BY THE KRANG!!!! SHE WILL GET A REDEMPTION JUST LIKE SHES STILL IN THE HIVE MIND SO GIVE IT A SECOND!!

#rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #r rambling #fic ideas #hehehe i wrote this down last night on paper so I wouldn’t forget lol

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a-noone · 4 months

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In true Dork fashion, I got into an argument with one of my partners about the Universal Translator and xeno-gender. Rants under the cut.

I was explaining to him about the like, 0.01% of people who saw the excerpt from my writing where Kirk asks two six-dimensional creatures their pronouns, one that looks like an hourglass with no other visible features, and the other that looks like some kind of sea worm, and people online were like, "this is an anachronism!"

He replied, "yeah, honestly, having them ask pronouns makes no sense in Star Trek."

And I said to him, "in the context, knowing nothing about their culture, how would you know? How would you know if they have gender, or what the genders are? What social cues would you even look for?"

And he says to me, "the universal translator is the ultimate scripton. In TOS, they never said how it worked. In TNG, the pin they wear translates things directly from their brainwaves."

To which I replied:

Also, if it's brainwaves, why won't it translate French?

The UT comparing brainwaves assumes that other species have brains like ours. They could have hive minds like ants or bees, or they could be intelligent individuals who think with nearly their entire body. And are you telling me that the ship's computer is telepathic?

You do realize that a sentient species similar to an octopus isn't far fetched AT ALL, right? They have 9 'brains' which are spread throughout their body. Where they light up when thinking about sex may be wholly different that what lights up for a human.

Assuming similar brainwaves, you thinking about your concept of femaleness, and the UT shunting through the concept of "she" isn't going to protect you from stepping in it if the person is actually a "he."

Also, why would you assume that every culture has a he or she?

Ants have three genders: queen, worker, and drone. You might argue that works are female, but they cannot become a queen, nor can a queen become a worker, once they are fully developed. They are phenotypically distinct. And how are we to know, if we ran into such a species, how they would think of themselves? Would you automatically know in advance without talking to them? For all you know, their pronouns aren't based on gender at all, but rather upon what job they do in the colony. How would the UT and its hypothetical mind-reading abilities help you to know this without talking to them?

There would be untranslatable pronouns, and you'd have to learn them. Just like the UT doesn't spit out "sword" when a Klingon says the word "bat'leth," or "popcorn" when they're talking about gagh, even though "tasty-finger-food-snack" brainwaves occurs when humans think of popcorn and Klingons think about gagh.

What makes sense is that the U.T. works off of both algorithms and libraries, and that if you meet a new species, you may have to sit in orbit and let your computer absorb a lot of their transmissions before you can go down there and have a conversation.

What makes sense is that people have implants (like the Ferengi do in DS9), and that they somehow do noise cancelling.

Honestly 100% of those Prime Directive stories where humans get modified to blend in, and then use the UT, and no one notices a lip-syncing issue are absolute hogwash.

So yeah, UT is a scripton. A technology with no basis so that we don't have to deal with translation. Even so, I don't know how it would wave away the issue of how to politely address someone without first ascertaining how they think of themself.

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all54321 · 1 year

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Father Spore Spy AU Info/Lore

Since a lot of stuff is written vaguely or not said at all, I’ve decided to make a post with just a bunch of random world info. Might add on to this later if something else becomes important later.

Starting off with the world they live in. It’s a mostly modern setting on an Earth-like planet. There’s some Minecraft stuff mixed in. Like their strongest weapons are just swords and bows and the like. There are also hybrids (part human part something else) around, while uncommon, seeing one isn’t a surprise to anyone. For example, Grian is an avian (human/bird), those infected by spores are not hybrids though.

Since this is a whole bigger world, there are a lot more people in it then just the hermits. Although all the season 7 hermits are close friends and have been for a while. Some longer then others, but by the election they’re all good friends.

Since Pearl joins the next season, she currently lives in a different town. Her and Grian are also siblings, therefor she’s also an avian.

I currently/occasionally refer to what’s happening as a resistance, since that’s what it was in Hermitcraft. Here it isn’t a resistance though. There is nothing personal about the attacks/spreading. It just so happens that the source of this is closer to this town and then any others.

More about the mycelium/hive mind: It’s more intelligent then most other plant species, but not at a human level. It struggles to travel out past the caves on its own, making it need outside help. When Scar fell in, it infected him to help spread it around. The cave it’s in is completely filled with spores, it’s just lighter the farther from the source. So Scar was infected pretty much right away, just not enough to fully turn him right away.

At the start, the hivemind was primarily controlled by the source, including Scar. Although the strongest influence it had over him was making him want to do what it wills him to do. So he could go against what it wants, but he doesn’t since he’s made to want it too. Scar eventually takes control over the hivemind since it can’t rival human intelligence. Scar can force people to do what he says, if he chooses to. Scar also protects the source with his life, he lets no one know where it’s at, hiding it near completely. It is in the dead center of the mycelium territory, so no one ventures that far. Those infected don’t know where to find it.

Now, on to how the mycelium effects others. Which is to say, it effects everyone differently, so here’s Scar and Grian.

Scar is extremely effected, having been turned by the primary source. He’s covered in a lot of mushrooms and his skin is even turning mycelium purple in places. Every part of his is infectious in some way, but he also emits a cloud of spores around him. He can control how much he releases. From anywhere between a little and an extreme amount (ie. filling an inclosed room in seconds). He changes it depending on the situation.

Grian is also very unique in how’s he’s effected. He gets fully transformed not long after inhaling enough of the spores, but his physical transformation is a lot slower. He only has a few mushrooms growing across his body, only some of his blood start being taken over by mycelium, making very few visible purple veins (a possible symptom), and just a few of his inside feathers turn purple. Although the more time he spends with Scar, the more he transform. He can hide most or that under baggy clothes and gloves. He extremely rarely shows the insides of his wings so that’s also easy to hide. After getting caught and living around Scar full time, it spreads a lot quicker/more obvious. Grian can only infect others by skin to skin contact. He also infects them with a unique strain of it, very slow acting (symptoms appearing after over a day), but harder to disinfect.

On the topic of disinfecting people, it takes a long while for the HEP to find a way to do that. At the farthest I’ve written, the most they can do is disinfect someone who recently got infected, they can’t infect someone fully transformed/connected to the hive mind. Disinfecting someone is extremely painful, even worse for those fully transformed and can’t be disinfected. They have no cure yet. They also don’t have a good way to disinfect someone who is infected by Grian, especially since he doesn’t infect others to keep his cover.

That’s all I can think of for now, or what I want to share, anyway. Might reblog with more later.

#father spore spy au

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passanima · 3 months

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watched a movie called "no one will save you" (2023) (spoilers)

it's a horror alien story (tho not scary) and i am both confused and fascinated by it

the ending made me go "WHAT" and "oh, fun!" and also "but why?" legit don't think i fully understand it so ok. there's a woman living alone. one night an alien come in her house. she's able to kill it the next day in a panic she tries to run away from the town but some people go after her and we find out that last night the aliens went in other houses than hers and were able to "get" some humans they don't kill them but use their bodies as puppets

so ok. at that point i had many questions, cause my focus was on the aliens and how and why they were designed the way they were (both physical and mental, like why they act the way they do) they're very basic "grey" human looking aliens, not scary looking at all, tho there's some variety of design (mostly size) that's interesting, i like the way they move sometimes and the noises they make i thought, why they only "attack" at night and use humans as puppets was like, cause the sun hurt their skin or something, but no we never fully get why they use people as puppets

each night they come back and try to get the main girl (she came back home after she was attacked by a puppet on the bus) and she's able to fight back good! kills like… 3 of them in total i think? no, 4! very impressive idk why the aliens keeps going at her one by one but eh

i'm very confused how they work, senses wise. they don't seem particularly intelligent or have higher senses like hearing or anything some of them don't attack her, just look at her with curiosity so for a while i was like "are they not actually 'monsters' and weren't gonna do anything mean but she killed one of them so going at her out of revenge?" the answer is no… they do hurt people (puppet wise, stealing their bodies and agency)

at some point near the end she gets "got" and they put the thing in her mouth to puppet her, because of this we learn that when it happens to a human they lose consciousness and the aliens give them pleasant dreams/hallucinations based on their memories why do they do that, buh! maybe they need them relaxed to puppet their bodies? anyway girlie is able to break out of the hallucination and take out the thing they put in her (WILD) but then they get her into one of their ship and for some reason, even tho with the hallucination thing they already knew about her memories (or maybe it was only the thing they put into her that knew?) they touch her forehead to access her memories and witness something in her past and the ending is that they let her go?

like um like she's the only non-puppet around now and she's happy about it, they're all friends with all the puppet-alien controled bodies idk! if it's another hallucination or her reality. felt more lire reality cause why would her pleasant dream to live with them after all the fighting for her life but it was SO funny like what did the aliens want??? what's the point in controlling humans (and only humans it seems) they're not even in the bodies, wearing them like costumes to blend in (like i thought was their goal, to assimilate on earth or something) they put something in your mouth to control you and MAYBE (not even sure) the alien inside his ship can control you and has access to your memories? but it's only one alien to one human if the case, they don't have a hive mind so they don't. kill humans to live on earth. they don't want necessarely to assimilate with human civilisation. they just. want to play doll???

and for some reason don't feel like doing it with main girlie no clue!!!!!! what this shit was about!!!!!! very funny tho like WHAT she killed a bunch of them and they were like "girl, you're crazy, wanna be besties?" it ends with her DANCING with them in their human puppets which used to be her neighbors she knows what this means for them as it happened to her. she knows how horrific it is. and she was dancing and smiling! UH?????? great movie

#i rant about stuff #no one will save you 2023

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castleblackthrone · 1 year

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DnDSpeak

100 Demon Lords

https://www.dndspeak.com/2017/12/06/100-demon-lords/

Myronir – Demon Lord of Reflections: Myronir brings waves of doppelgangers and other shapeshifters to attack his enemies. He uses divination magic to see through mirrors and cause people to see their reflection as horrible twisted versions of themselves. In rare ancient texts, he is also known as the Prince of Schisms.

100 Eldritch Horrors

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/08/28/100-eldritch-horrors/

Dalgd’r’s Aria - In an unsuspecting cave in Virginia, sealed behind an elder sign, sleeps The First of the Born, Dalgd’r. She is a massive, salamander-like monstrosity who has spent the past millennia readying her nursery for new spawn. Her avatar, a scruffy looking Scottish Terrier, lures unsuspecting locals into the cave where they join her as an embryo before being reborn into her cosmic hive mind of abominations. Throughout history, for unknown reasons, a distinct melody seems to crop up in the area around her chambers. The song has been known to cause uncontrollable fits of laughter and dancing.

100 Evil Magic Items

https://www.dndspeak.com/2022/10/16/100-evil-magic-items/

Hellfire and Brimstone - Twin +2 daggers that deal additional Fire and Necrotic Damage, but also double or halve the effects of hemocraft (blood magic).

100 Evil Magic Items

https://www.dndspeak.com/2022/10/16/100-evil-magic-items/

Zakiir's Blade of Balance- A worn scimitar with a scratched brass pommel. A scale is etched into the pommel, and "Everything has a cost someone must pay" written on one side of the blade in Elven. The blade scores a critical hit on a roll of 18-20 and does an extra 3d6 damage on a critical hit. Every time a critical hit is scored, the same amount of damage is done to a random individual somewhere on the plane. This amount is, usually, enough to kill a normal civilian.

100 Inn Patrons

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/04/16/100-inn-patrons/

Mina Darkmore is a cursed witch (Witch – 7th Level, LN Rakshasa – Beastbrood – Human-Feline-Thundercat in appearance). She was transformed into a cat and can still talk and use magic. She comes by every day for her milk served in a golden bowl with her name on it. The milk and golden bowl are the cornerstone of her curse.

100 New Darklords and Domains in the Ravenloft Setting

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/11/01/100-new-darklords-and-domains-in-the-ravenloft-setting/

Gulgolatha, The Skull Lord, was a supremacist elven king (eladrin) who led a genocidal campaign against all other races, seeing them as inferior and impure. His plans backfired, resulting at the destruction of his kind. Now he is a skeleton warrior with long white hair and ornate armor, sitting on his throne among the ruins of his once magnificent city, his sword which turns flesh into dust in his hands. Surrounded only by ghosts and skeletons, he is fully aware that the other races thrive while he belongs to history - but still dreaming that his time will come...

100 New Darklords and Domains in the Ravenloft Setting

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/11/01/100-new-darklords-and-domains-in-the-ravenloft-setting/

Lilith, the Mistress of Souls. It is uncommon to see a whole domain holding a 10th old girl at such awe and fear, but it is understandable when this girl is the current reincarnation of Lilith Lathenus, the matriarch of the noble Lathenus family, who has been reincarnating through her granddaughters for hundreds of years. Ever calm, controlled and unemotional, Lilith has the power to manipulate souls; she has a collection of thousands of souls stored in bottles, dolls and other vessels, which she may instill into a living, dead or inanimate bodies, torture, sell, consume or anything else. Some whisper the ravens bring her the souls of the deceased. Though everyone fears Lilith, many come to her asking to have their beloved ones' souls instilled into new bodies, or other requests, which she might grant - for a price.

100 New Darklords and Domains in the Ravenloft Setting

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/11/01/100-new-darklords-and-domains-in-the-ravenloft-setting/

Tor-O-Gon, The Caveman. On a world of advanced technology, Doctor Egon was a scientist who abandoned all morality in name of scientific progress. The Dark Powers made him a chief of a cavemen tribe (who mispronounce his name as Tor-O-Gon). Now is forced to lead his tribe in a dark, Paleolithic domain, teeming with prehistoric beasts and primal spirits, forever devoid of progress.

100 New Darklords and Domains in the Ravenloft Setting

https://www.dndspeak.com/2018/11/01/100-new-darklords-and-domains-in-the-ravenloft-setting/

Blind Paul, the Monk. What greater curse can befall a scholar who lied and murdered in order to get possession of a grand, ancient library, than being struck with blindness, forever unable to read the countless books surrounding him? Blind Paul is now the lord of the floating pocket domain known as the Library of the Mists, rumored to contain all kinds of arcane knowledge. He eagerly waits for visitors to capture and force them read for him, hoping to find a cure to his blindness in some book. Though blind, he is very dangerous, and may darken the library at will and use his sharp hearing and smell senses and monk's fighting skills to overcome his foes.

100 Things Found inside a Haunted House

https://www.dndspeak.com/2019/06/24/100-things-you-can-find-in-a-haunted-house/

The body of a large monstrous deformed humanoid, roughly 120” in height is that of a formorian ogre. Rune covered metal stakes have been driven through its skull and it sternum. The body is inside a long wooden chest. Is it ready for reanimation or some other foul necromancy?

100 Treasured Items of the Deceased

https://www.dndspeak.com/2023/01/10/100-treasured-items-of-the-deceased/

Silver Holy Symbol: Appease the gods. When infused by the owner’s spirit: for the god of healing

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ts-porter · 3 years

Text

The Shanty and the Hive

The first time the humans told us they sang their way through subspace, we thought it a translation error.

We-the-hive were overjoyed to meet them. Finally, finally, it was proven that we were not alone! And though we already knew that we must not be, given the vastness of time and the multiverse, we also knew that those same vastnesses were against us. Civilizations we could meet are greatly outnumbered by those who came before us and we are too late to meet, those who will come after us and we are too early for, and those so far away that we cannot find them.

A starfaring civilization, like our own, increased the chances of meeting greatly. One of our most distant scientific surveyors sensed a faint and far away disturbance, similar to the waves our own ships make when diving into and out of subspace. An exploratory team was sent to investigate, and there at the furthest reach ever taken from the hive's center, to our everlasting joy, we found human explorers on the far edges of their own range.

Their ships were strange to us, and their selves even stranger. Translation, and the mutual communication of peaceful intentions, was difficult. Mathematics was the first understanding we were able to share, as the basic principles do not change—though their and our systems of harnessing it are different. Science followed after, as the elements and natural laws are unchanging. So it was discovered that we-the-hive and the humans share the common ground of being carbon-based heterotrophs who consume water to maintain life processes.

These commonalities were far outnumbered by our differences. Yet, the most important thing we had in common was the desire to understand each other. With earnest effort, with forgiveness for unintended insult and misunderstanding, we worked to learn each other's languages.

Science being an early part of our understanding of each other, we asked them about the construction of their ships. They told us of their material compositions and their subspace engines, different in design but similar in purpose to our own technology—but when we asked them about the shielding and stabilization they used to make the journey survivable, they told us only that they sang their way through.

Translations were imprecise, and their language often contradictory. Of course we believed that it was yet another translation error. We believed there was a nuance we were missing.

The humans were a very musical civilization. They were always singing, all of them. They sang for joy, and they sang for mourning, and they sang for any reason at all between the two extremes.

(Later, we would discover that this was not universally true. That those who crewed their ships were chosen from the most musical among them. We only met their singers, their travelers, their ship's crews. How could we know differently?)

We believed, with music such a central part of their civilization, that they had given the words for song more meaning. Their subspace stabilization and shielding technology, without which any ship that dove into the confusion of subspace would be utterly destroyed and lost, had taken its name from music. We-the-hive noted the mistranslation, and worked to increase our understanding.

As our trust and understanding increased, as the human linguists became haltingly conversant in our language and we in theirs, the humans introduced to us a group of their hatchlings. It was a mighty show of trust, as they valued their younger generations as deeply as we did our own. Though still flexible, an adult human's mind was too set in its ways to easily become fluent in another language. That of their hatchlings was far more suited to the acquisition of language. With equal time spent between their own language and ours, it was hoped that the young would grow to be adults who could serve as translators and teachers to increase the closeness and understanding of our peoples.

We allowed our hatchlings and theirs to mingle, to play together, to bond. We spoke to the human hatchlings, and the speed at which they learned our language matched the speed they learned the language of their own people. It was to be a long project, but a joyful and an exciting one.

We learned more about the humans, and they learned more about us. Along with scientific sharing, we established a small trade, exchange of goods and curiosities from one civilization to another.

Our understanding grew, but we still did not understand completely. The humans told us that they sang their way through subspace. When we could no longer believe that the translation was so deeply in error, we instead believed that the crews who piloted the human ships did not understand the technology they used. They were such a granular species, not unified. We believed that those who built the ships had not shared knowledge with those who piloted them, and so they had developed superstitions around technology they did not comprehend.

We-the-hive asked to send a pod of researchers through a subspace dive on one of the human ships. We asked for it. The humans agreed, willingly, in exchange for an equal number of their own scientists to take the same trip aboard one of our ships. Our pod and their scientists were chosen. The ships and the destination were chosen.

The pod boarded the human ship with nothing but curiosity and excitement. As the humans were wont to limit the number of dives they took and make the most of every trip, a ship carrying cargo on one of their usual supply runs was chosen. The ship was called the Merry Dancer, of the type the humans called a 'small freighter'.

It was greatly open through the inside. The 'bird's nest' hung from the ceiling at the center, and there the Captain and Pilots had their stations. Room had been found to rig up two safety harnesses, to secure two individuals from the research pod where we could watch the Captain and Pilots work. The rest of us joined the singers, who stood in a line from stem to stern along the bottom of the ship.

The mood was solemn and focused as the humans prepared for the journey. The subspace engines were prepped, their rumble vibrating through the ship. The Pilots and Captain stretched their hands and rolled their necks, loosening themselves up. The singers took deep breaths and hummed, warming their voices.

"All Ready?" the Captain asked. She was a small human, her wrinkled skin a pleasingly luminous deep brown and her thickly curly silver hair tied up in many braids and twisted into a knot at the back of her head. She was called Janette, and when she spoke, in her firm and quiet voice, the crew of the Merry Dancer listened closely and with respect.

"Singers in Position," the chief among the singers—the Lead Chanter—reported. "At your command, Captain." He was a large human, hairless and very round, with pink skin heavily freckled with brown spots. He was called George, and his voice was big and booming as so many of the ship's singers were. Even when he was not working he was always surrounded by the singers of the Merry Dancer, in a loud and happy group that was always singing, for they trusted him and liked to be close.

After a look and a nod with the two pilots, the Captain spoke again. "You may begin when ready," she said. And then, informally and with a small smile, "Sing to me."

Lead Chanter George stamped out a beat that the rest of the singers took up immediately. He inhaled a massive breath, filling his belly and broad chest to its limit. (And we had heard of the training most ship's singers chose to undertake from childhood, exercises to increase their lung capacity and improve the volume and resonance of their voices, that they might sing loud and long without doing themselves damage. George epitomized the results, as so many lead chanters did.)

He belted out the line to song we had heard the humans singing before. A 'shanty', they called it; an old one. It was dated from long before their species even dreamed that they could leave their birth planet and sail across the stars rather than the oceans of their homeworld.

"Oh, we'll blow the man up and we'll blow the man down!" George led.

And every singer through the ship, in time and at great volume, sang out in answer: "Way, hey, blow the man down!"

George spared a brief moment of attention to wink at the nearest member of the research pod as he led again: "We'll make the trip over, won't let our friends down."

"Give us some time to blow the man down!" the singers responded.

The sound of their voices and the solid beat of their stamping boots vibrated the entire ship. It was clear that the acoustics were designed such that the vibrations bounced off the walls of the ship, centering unerringly on the crow's nest. The Captain and the Pilots nodded in time as the Lead Chanter improvised the next verse and sang it up to them, as the singers responded in tuneful chorus.

The Captain's hand clenched on a lever, the subspace engine throttle, tight enough her knuckles paled. A deep breath, and she slammed the throttle wide open in time with the singers. The engine roared briefly, outclassed only by the song. Immediately it was clear why the humans, in their language, had named their version of the subspace dive after a violent strike—the punch. It was a hard transition, swift and jarring.

Then. Oh, then. We understood, suddenly and most terribly, why the humans could not describe their subspace shielding and stabilization technology to us, for they had none.

They had none!

Their minds, bodies, and their entire ships were fully exposed to the nongeometrical confusion of subspace. The research pod, we who had asked to be there and been eagerly chosen, were caught up in it as well. Spacetime was ruffled, twisted, wrinkled, defying understanding in ways that three-dimensional space and regularly linear time never did. Unshielded subspace was a mind-destroying horror, the likes of which we-the-hive had never experienced.

And through the midst of the direful disorientation, the humans were singing.

We-the-hive discovered the principles of subspace engines, the basics for the traversing of subspace to make the lightyears of interstellar travel pass in hours, long before we used them. The dive to the space below the three dimensional and outside of linear spacetime requires mere force. Three generations were born and died while we developed the much more difficult shielding and stabilization technology, which requires finesse. Only when we had perfected it, when we could hold an entire ship in a stable pocket of three dimensions through a subspace trip, did we become starfarers.

The humans had taken a very different approach.

Lead Chanter George stood like a stone against the wind, inventing lyrics for his ancient shanty, and the ship's singers stomped the deck in time and answered, never faltering. Above them, Captain Janette and her pilots listened hard to the song and the echoes. Their hands were on their controls, manually firing the ship's small stabilization engines. They judged by the sound alone whether any part of the ship was warping, if it was redshifting or blueshifting out of tune or out of time.

Ship's singers had told us, proudly, that they lived and died by their voices. We had thought it hyperbole.

The twist and shake of the ship, what the humans called the shimmy and roll and the bucking gravitational waves, never abated. The singing never ceased. In between lines of the call and response of the shanty, singers took sips of water from the bottles on their belts to keep their throats from growing dry. George communicated with his Second with brief hand signs, and sie took over leading with a different shanty—another ancient song, The Wellerman. The pilots breathed hard with the effort of concentration. Sweat beaded at the Captain's hairline. A thin trickle ran down her cheek and neck in a jaggedly uneven line, pushed and pulled by the roiling of subspace.

The humans, with their fortitude and adaptability, and specifically the crew of the Merry Dancer with their long experience, were able to keep functioning. They could continue to work despite the tearing disorientation, else the ship and all in it would have been lost. The members of the research pod were not so prepared, and were not so adaptable. With communication disrupted between us so each was utterly alone, with the confusion and isolation overwhelming, we had all curled up tight inside our carapaces for safety, like frightened hatchlings. Only one in three were able to even peek a single eyestalk out to observe with shattered perception, to increase our knowledge and understanding as had been the intention of the trade.

(On the hive's ship, mid journey, one of the human researchers aboard hesitantly asked when the trip was going to begin. This caused great confusion all around.)

Another unknowable and incomprehensible time later, the Second signaled to Lead Chanter George, and he led again with a third song—Roll The Old Chariot Along. The music, sure and unending, was a comfort in the confusion. The singers' strong voices, unified, were a touchstone in the chaos.

The third song was ongoing when the subspace engine began cycling again, powering up for the punch back out. Despite the strain, despite the confused length of time of their singing, George's voice grew in volume, and the rest of the singers followed. They overwhelmed the sound of the engine, providing Captain Janette and the Pilots with the guidance they needed through the last moments.

The second punch was every bit as harsh as the first. Space time warped, twisted, and then snapped back into three dimensional linearity. Through the transition, the singers never faltered. The reverberation of their voices rang through the ship, a joyful shout. George had his hands raised high as he led one final chorus at half time.

"Lead Chanter, singers, you may stand down," the Captain announced, formally, and then smiling but still dignified despite her obvious weariness. "Nicely done, crew."

Some of the singers cheered and hugged each other, or slapped each other's backs in celebration. Others, though, ran and fell to their knees by the nearest of the research pod to them.

"What happened?", "Are they ok?" "Are they hurt?", "I don't understand they just collapsed as soon as we punched!"

Lead Chanter George, trusted and respected by the singers he led, sang out calming words even as he sat on the deck beside one the nearest researcher from the pod—one who had an eye stalk out monitoring. He smiled at us, human expression of happiness. He placed one large warm hand on the back of the researcher's carapace. He could not speak our language, but with his tired voice he sang the tone of safety—with the caress and the crooning he communicated an absence of danger as we might to our own hatchlings.

We would learn that a young relative of his was among the human hatchlings who mingled with ours, that by observing us with our own hatchlings he'd learned the way to offer comfort. One and another of the singers took up the tone, until the ship throbbed with it. The research pod were given care and reassurance, and with the sharp reduction in stress we were able to uncurl, to communicate and reintegrate and return to a harmonious whole as we worked to piece together our shattered understanding of what had occurred.

The touch and the tone were not quite the same as our own, similar enough, but different. Still, the difference was not unpleasant. In that moment, in the relief and the... the kindness, the sonorous resonance of a human singer's voice and the softness of a human hand were fixed as beautiful. These humans were not us, not ours, but become beloved. When the research pod was reintegrated in the whole of we-the-hive, the beauty and affection remained.

We would learn that the journey we observed had been 'easy', routine, as safe as any trip could be. The humans had pride in the safety of their ships and in the training of their capable crews—that they lost, astoundingly, merely one in two thousand ships in unstabilized dives.

They had done so much with so little, singing their way through subspace while still researching the technologies that would make it safe.

When we-the-hive truly understood the risks the humans took with every single journey, when the research pod's knowledge was fully integrated, we knew we could not leave them without the advantages we had.

The decision to share all details of our subspace shielding and stabilization technology with the humans—with our friends—was swift and without dissent.

Edit - 04/20/21 So! This story is actually an eventual-future-worldbuilding of a short story about space shanties that I wrote in 2018, and which I have finally found a home for! The story in question sadly does not include aliens, but it does have ace lesbians singing their way through danger. It’s sweet and hope-punky and I think that if you enjoyed this one, you’d enjoy that one too!

“(don’t you) love a singer” is available in the It Gets Even Better: Stories of Queer Possibility anthology by Speculatively Queer. You can grab a copy [here]!

#fuck yeah humanity #humans are space orcs #space shanty #sea shanty #first contact #sff #free read #long post #hopepunk #hopecore

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misstrashchan · 2 years

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So since tomorrow is Halloween, I decided to make a recommendation list of my favourite horror podcast episodes to recommend on Halloween as a way of celebration, and for anyone looking to get into podcasts but maybe being too intimidated by starting a whole series at once and just wanting a taste. As such, all of these episodes can be enjoyed as a stand alone and without needing the context of the rest of the series' story.

1) Penumbra Podcast

( 1.13 Home)

Summary:

When a family is preparing to move out of their old house in a week and the parents are away for a night, siblings Jake and Lily find out their home has a lot more heart than they may be comfortable with.

This was the last stand alone oneshot episode the Penumbra Podcast did, and one of the only horror ones. I'd say it's more spooky than scary with a wholesome twist to it, which makes it welcoming for any newcomers to the horror genre or someone looking to listen to something for Halloween that isn't as dark as the other recommendations on this list. It does get intense in certain parts, and while it isn't a story about domestic abuse it may be disturbing to those who find those themes triggering.

Runtime: 30mins

2) Old Gods of Appalachia

( 0.5 The Witch Queen)

Summary:

They say there's a witch in that valley, and you'd do well to stay away from there. Journey back to the settling of the central plateau and witness the power of mountain women.

Oh I do love a good witch character, and the Witch Queen is one of my favourites. It feels somewhere half between a fairytale and a ghost story. This is the prologue to the main series (and the first chapter in the Witch Queen storyline). It's well written, performed, and genuinely creepy. The setting of the story is an alternate Appalachia (that draws from the real life events and history of Appalachia) where the supernatural is real and impossibly strange, with what lies beneath the mountains and the power that dwells within the forests.

Runtime: 24mins

3) The Silt Verses

( 1.04 Of Lovers, Gods and Beasts)

Summary:

We follow Sister Carpenter, worshipper of an outlawed river god, travelling up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As she attempts to locate the Trawler-Man's church in the woods of Penda's Slake she runs into trouble instead, in the way of a strange elk.

This was the first episode of the Silt Verses that gained the series a level of attention, and it's through that I came to hear about the series. This is certainly one of the more dramatic episodes, and it's worth listening to for Méabh de Brún's performance alone, but if you like allusions to greek myth and themes of religious existentialism interwined with body horror, then this episode is an absolute delight.

Runtime: 55mins

4) The Magnus Archives

(1.32 Hive)

Summary:

Statement of Jane Prentiss, regarding… a wasps’ nest in her attic. Original statement given February 23rd, 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

"There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. A fat, sprawling thing that crouches in the shadowed corner. It thrums with life and malice. I could sit there for hours, watching the swirls of pulp and paper on its surface. I have done. It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them. Sings that I am beautiful. Sings that I am a home. That I can be fully consumed by what loves me..."

I am sorry. Every other episode on this list is fantastic, but Hive will always be my favourite. The nature of the Magnus Archives as a horror anthology podcast that has an overarching meta plot means I could've picked any episode from the first two seasons that would've worked well for this list to jump into. But it had to be Hive. This is the kind of thing that reminds me why I love horror. The structure of the episode devolving into Jane's mind, the blurred lines between human and monster, the powerful imagery squirming it's way into your brain, crawling under your skin, the way Jon's voice shifts as he's recording the statement, slipping further and further away, becoming more intensely hypnotic, I just... please listen to it. It will deeply unsettle you. (warning for trypophobia). Also, for anyone curious about getting into the Magnus Archives, this episode is filled with a lot of foreshadowing and symbolism, so it's a great one to listen to on its own and also within the context of the series!

Runtime: 20mins

5) I Am in Eskew

(Ep4: Culpability)

Summary:

In a city of steep and winding streets, where the mime artists prance in their ghastly masks and the rain never stops, is the monstrous kafkaesque city of Eskew. David Ward, our protagonist, records his strange experiences with the city that was not built or made, but born.

David meets a murderer - and hears the story of a horrific, life-altering childhood experience.

I almost feel guilty for including this one, since I already have Of Lovers, Gods, and Beasts from the Silt Verses on this list, which is by the same writer Jon Ware. Buuuut I just really like this one and think it's a shame it sometimes gets overlooked. I liked listening to I Am in Eskew, but it wasn't till this episode that I was truly intrigued by it. Culpability feels like a murder mystery being unravelled where you're waiting for the unexpected twist round the corner only to find the knife was sticking out of your back the whole time.

This was also the first time the series made me sit down and think about what it was trying to say, the potential metaphors of depression, guilt, disassociation, and isolation. As well as the idea of becoming so accustomed to pain and fear that hope and comfort become the greater and unfamiliar terrors to be used against you. You can probably summarize from that this is the bleakest episode on this list, though not the goriest (though there is some child violence/abuse/body horror) but not bleak to the point of pointlessness.

Runtime: 28mins

6) Tales from the Gas Station

(A Murdxr at the Gas Station)

Summary:

While working the nightshift at the gas station at the edge of town, Jack Townsend is used to having encounters ranging from weird to downright horrifying. Tonight is no different, when a crow suddenly flies in.

This series is just some fun horror comedy that pokes fun at horror tropes while leaning into them, maintaining its own sense of unsettling and weird. There are a few intense and gory moments in this episode, but I picked this one simply because it's the stand alone episode in the series that made me laugh the most, and the one I relisten to the most frequently. It's dark, it's fun, it's spooky, plain and simple. (This one is only available on YouTube to listen to and not on any other usual podcast platforms)

Runtime: 30mins

And with that, I hope there is something on this list for everyone who loves or is new to horror podcasts to enjoy!

And I wish you a very Happy Halloween!

#halloween #podcasts #podcast recs #tpp #the penumbra podcast #ogoa #old gods of appalachia #tsv #the silt verses #tma #the magnus archives #i am in eskew #tftgs #tales from the gas station

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notstarcey · 1 month

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She Prentiss on my worms til I I itch all the time. Deep beneath my skin, where the bone sits, enshrined in flesh, I feel it. Something, not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free. It itches, and I don’t think I want it. I don’t know what to do.

I’m sorry, I know I’m meant to be telling you what happened. What brought me to this place. This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding. I’m sorry. I should. I will.

#the magnus archives #tma shitpost #im so sorry #i love her #i love this statement #its my favourite

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prof-peach · 2 years

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Has peach ever done a tag team fight? Like you know those trainer pokemon pairs like aura guardians or fighting specialists or even some psychics who like to fight along side their pokemon for training

I think that would be a blast to watch, two humans and two pokemon, trainer and partner just BRAWLING, human hands to human hands and pokemon to pokemon, supporting each other as it goes

Sounds like a blast for athletic types

With Val, yes. Thats how they act all the time, those two are pretty fluid together, other pokemon try with peach but don't hold a candle to that little fiery monster. If Peach has to front up something huge, something humanly impossible to fight, thats where Val comes in. She doesn't waste her time on trainer fights, but if her human needs it, she'll become a shadow, her light weight means she can bounce off and get hight for attacks from peach, psychic skills are a buffer, a barrier applied to peach's body, like armour. If the armour is struck, the attacker gets a fiery blast sent right back at it with the same force as the attack. Val is the reason peach isn't 6ft under, You think you can hit her with water? evaporated, first thing peach helped her train for. Long range? Shields. Short range, you gotta contend with peach, AND intense heat, they're both not shy when it comes to throwing hands with anything. Tactically they usually have a plan, they've handled just about everything together, no size too big or small, no tactical advantage too great. It's certainly something to see, and rare at that. The pair don't do that unless something truly horrible is happening, and people or pokemon are in danger. Not even Grey can deal with them together, they have been together for so long they have a weird connection, like a neural link, peach chalks it up to the psychic heritage Val has, but others are convinced they're just cut of the same cloth. Val's an interesting one, fought off evolution despite multiple direct contact situations with fire stones of various potency, fears nothing, the dragons on the island dread her, the others respect her, Peach's right hand, her shadow. Honestly i'm excited to expand on the pair, the Hisuian adventures will highlight this a lot, the way they are together is like one nasty creature that splits into two, with one fully functioning hive mind at times. This skillset is possible with many, peach isn't the only one to do this, but it's her strongest skillsets, something they train at most nights in secret behind the house.

#ive been very quiet about val #shes got a lot more to her than expected #but you know #unassuming vulpix #people dont think much of her #especially because she sits a lot of stuff out #and is very quiet #pokemon #prof.peach

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dragongirl642 · 3 years

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I really love your writing and noticed your asks are open (i think). And, I checked your masterlist and didn't see RE8 listed as a universe you write for, so you can ignore this if you want. But, could I request Heisenberg, Donna, and Lady Dimitrescu reacting to a male dragon-shifter reader who has decided to make the character's residence their hoard, and as such, going to extreme lengths to protect them and the residence?

OOOHHH 😮😳 How did you know dragons (and by extent dragon shifters) are my favourite things in the whole wide world!!!!!

As a treat, you get all four of the Lords' reactions. 😎

For extra drama, the dragon-shifter (you) basically crash land nearby (after a loooooonnnngggg flight) and decide to take up residence in the nearest abode while you rest, and end up getting comfortable and liking the area so decide to stay.

You have a full human form, fully dragon form, and an in-between form.

Also, you have like saintly levels of patience.

Heisenberg

It takes him a minute of staring to figure out that the giant dragon in the factory, is not a hallucination, induced by either the drinking he was doing the night prior, or a trick of Mother Miranda's trying to destabilize him mentally.

However this quickly turns into a lot of yelling "what the F are you doing in my factory!" and "What the F are you!" while chucking metal at you.

You melt the more dangerous pieces and yell at him to "Cease this nonsense! You can't hurt me like this."

Heisenberg.exe has stopped working.

He's partially re-evaluating his life like...did I just get sassed by a giant lizard.

You take the initiative to tell the small angry man telekinetically chucking metal around to chill. "Listen, I'm just going to rest here a few days then leave. You leave me alone, and I won't Incinerate you."

He quickly weighs up how much he doesn't want you here vs how much it will piss Mother Miranda off if he uses the giant dragon crash landing in his factory as an excuse to do absolutely nothing for her.

He's a bit annoyed about you taking up all the room by the forges so he can't make new soldats but...

Hate for Miranda wins!

He actually uses this as an excuse in his next report and Mother Miranda comes to 'get rid of the problem herself since Heisenberg cannot'...you almost incinerated her and she checked out. (He's putting that down as one of the best days of his life).

Since he now has nothing better to do he either leans on a nearby balcony or stands on a floating gear and starts trying to get your attention.

Will ask you everything from your name and where you came from to your favourite colour and if you have a specific favourite scale on your body.

You're distrustful and annoyed at first but soon warm up to this obviously lonely man.

You get so comfortable you decide you just might never leave.

The first time you feel comfortable enough to shift back to your human form Heisenberg is like (o_o) hot person! Two for one deal, annoying Mother Miranda plus Eye Candy!!!!

Makes a joke about having you turn into your dragon form again so he can keep making excuses to Mother Miranda. Which gets you curious and you ask about her, and he explains about the cadou, the experiments, and what she did to him.

He will make a bunk for you, so he can get back to work and you can stay near the heat of the forges, (absorbing the energy from the flames speeds up recovery and/or keeps you charged at 100% so you're always ready to burn a b1tch...specifically Miranda).

You both talk about whatever while he works. Lots of late night chats. One time he accidentally doused the forges and you just blew into the chamber and they re-lit immediately. (Mechanical Heart Eyes)

Since you start considering the entire factory to be your hoard, sometimes you claim a random object as your specific favourite piece for the day, maybe one of his tools or a specific piece of scrap. If he needs to use it, you won't let him and a small argument can be had. A solution is soon found though, you can't have a conflict of interest if your favourite item is him.

When you protect him, he's super flattered and hypes you up.

Cue him on the sides cheering you on.

If you two have started dating he will definitely yell "that's my boyfriend!" and gush about you to whoever happens to be standing next to him. (Bonus points if it's any of the other Lords. Especially Miranda, she is dying!)

Definitely makes a sign saying 'Beware of Dragon' to put on the fence.

Sometimes you jump to his defence even when he's in the middle of handling the threat. He gets huffy, saying he can take care of himself. You respond by telling him you won't let anything harm what's yours and once again, Heisenberg.exe is experiencing an error.

Alcina Dimitrescu

She is absolutely dismayed and angry at the giant lizard that barged its way through the doors and took up residency in her hall. It's tracking in mud and snow, burned the curtains, and took a good chunk of the wall, (letting in the cold).

Her daughters can't handle the cold, damn you!

Tries to fight you...fails. Turns out she's not immune to incineration and loses quite a few limbs (they grow back...eventually).

When she sees you shift to your human form, she's doubly-incensed...not only did you barge into her home but your also a D I S G U S T I N G M A N T H I N G !

You shift back whenever she tries to kill you so eventually she just gives up. (According to her she's waiting for the right opportunity NOT giving up.)

Wants to kill you, calls Mother Miranda for help and well, the same thing happens if you had crashed in the factory...she checks out!

Refuses to leave the castle for any reason, she's not leaving you along with her daughters.

Resigns herself to yelling insults at you from the balcony.

You respond in kind and it slowly devolves into a competition to come up with the most creative insults.

Your dragon form radiates heat...like...a lot. (Even counteracting the cold coming through the hole in the wall, which you attempted to fix.) This of course attracts the Dimitrescu daughters to the hall (against their mother's will).

If Alcina sees you lying their in dragon from, her three hive-mind children chattering away happily with you encouraging their curiosity, (Bela is half-asleep by your side, Daniela is complimenting your claws and asking about your bone structure, while Cassandra proudly proclaims her mother's are better than yours), she partly reconsiders her stance on you being a filthy, horrible, disgusting lizard man thing to just a filthy lizard man thing.

Seriously, your filthy, take a bath.

You quite enjoy all the little luxuries that can be found in the castle and decide to stay. Alcina almost shreds her hat in exasperation.

You get more comfortable and she starts to tolerate your presence, although she will take a swipe at you if she thinks she has a chance at killing you in your human form.

Jokes on her you can partially change and still fit through the hallways.

You never told her you've claimed the castle and the Dimitrescu family as your hoard but she does notice you being oddly friendly to her and she is "suspicious!"

You've met a few vampires and have a few suggestions for a more sustainable food source (buying blood donations from villagers instead of killing them). She's skeptical but considers it.

The first time you defend her is actually against Mother Miranda...over the phone. You have sharp hearing...and you don't like what you're hearing.

She's both flattered you would defend her so, and disgusted with herself for accepting a man thing's help.

When she realises she likes having you around, she starts to rationalise to herself that you're not just any man thing, you're her dragon man thing and therefore okay.

Gets more comfortable with leaving you with her daughters. You treat them well and keep them entertained?! That's a free babysitter if ever she's seen one.

When she sees the more extreme lengths you will go to protect the castle and her family, she is impressed and flattered and a little scared, and acts like it was her idea to have you stay.

"Oh, haven't you heard, that's the Dimitrescu Dragon."

Definitely rubs it in Heisenberg's face that she has a dragon and he doesn't.

Donna Beneviento

What are you!?!?!

To protect Donna, Angie is ready to fight you or die trying!

Just kind off avoids you and sends the pollen at you to make you leave.

The only one of the four Lords most likely to actually defeat you.

When you speak though, telling her to "release (your) mind, witch, or (you'll) incinerate everything", she's surprised and scared enough to actually do so.

Asks if you'll be her friend. Angie is cussing you out.

You see how scared and lonely she is and just *adoption mode activated*.

You only need to rest a few days, why not do so on friendly terms with your host. (keep telling yourself that).

It takes a day for you to shift to human form, partially because you don't want to have your measurements taken because Donna wants to make you a giant bonnet, (You reason it's a waste of resources, you'll only be here a short while).

Jokes on you, this is your home now.

You've never hoarded dolls before, but there's a first time for everything.

You will spend most of your time in human form since your dragon form kinda scares her.

Even though she's still scared of it, Donna does find your dragon form interesting and will ask to sketch you (from a distance...no fire please).

Make various over-exaggerated poses and joke about "draw me like one of your french girls" and she will laugh, (even though she doesn't get the joke).

She makes a plush doll of you. It turns inside out to shift between human and dragon.

The first time you protect her, she's scared. The flames take her straight back to her childhood, she's crying and she hides. You shift back to human form very quickly and find her, holding her close and apologising for scaring her over and over.

Will tear a man apart in human form to avoid this (or almost human form).

She slowly works up to being comfortable in your dragon form, the first time she falls asleep against your side is a good day.

You start insisting on accompanying her to meetings and escorting her whenever she has to meet another Lord. They start talking sh1t, they get hit (or burned...you let Donna choose).

Angie cheers you on.

Salvatore Moreau

He is terrified of you when you first show up.

You basically tear your way into the mines for shelter and he is frantically plugging the entrance to his home with the enzyme to hide.

Calls for "mother" to save him and that's how you find him.

You see this small deformed fish man crying in the mine and think, "i'm not gonna ask."

You settle in the slightly larger chamber and just lie down for a rest.

He soon realises your not going to attack him and ventures out to stare at you. He just keeps staring at you for like an uncomfortably long time, peeking around a doorway.

Eventual you snap and ask him to stop staring.

He slowly comes out of hiding and starts asking the basics.

"You can talk?" "Who are you?" "Why are you here?"

Seeing no reason not to, you tiredly answer all his questions.

Hearing about your long journey has him curiously asking about the places you've been to.

He quickly figures out you must have some sort of human form since you end up on the topics of favourite foods or movies and your favourites are all distinctly human. (He's the fastest at figuring this out and the least surprised when you shift).

Terrifying (hideous) creature going through an unnerving transformation into a humanoid form...he can relate. Although he's slightly jealous of how 'normal' you look when you shift to human form.

You two have a movie night where he proudly shows of his collection. It is in the middle of him analysing the context of THAT ONE SCENE that you decide, Yes...This one is mine.

The entire reservoir and mine is your territory and if anything comes anywhere near it they will be ash in 30 seconds.

When you protect him from danger, he's shocked that someone cares enough about him to f-ing incinerate a lycan for even looking at him weirdly.

You act like its natural and eventually he starts to get used to you.

Has self doubt and questions your motives...you tell him he's worth it or that he's your jewel.

C O N F I D E N C E B O O S T

Starts talking back to the other Lords when they insult him. It's easy with you hovering menacingly behind him, veins glowing with barely contained R A G E.

One source of friction however, is the fact that he doesn't like that you keep trying to kill Mother Miranda and he will latch onto you sobbing until you agree to spare her (for now...you'll get her when he's not around).

However, the longer you two know each other, the more self-confidence he gains and the more you talk through what Mother Miranda did to him and why he deserves better, (pointing out her manipulation, analyses whether she's ever 'cared' about him, etc...), the less bothered he gets. (Give it a few years, he'll cheer you on alongside Heisenberg).

Bonus:

The second you see Mother Miranda...it is on sight. (Especially if you know what she did to the Lords).

Cue you shifting to dragon form and preparing to unleash a volley of flame, "I smell the blood of children on you."

You may be comfortable(ish) with the actions of your housemate but you have STANDARDS.

Alright 😊 Hoped you like these headcanons, jaychirps. They were really fun to write and grew quite a bit. 😅

(I feel like Moreau's a bit ooc but I don't know enough about him to dispute that claim....)

Oh and p.s. ... asks are open.

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ganymedesclock · 2 years

Note

can i ask about RED THE GIANT SALAMANDER? like what was it like you think when she was sent around humans for the first time? it is kind of a cool idea for a type of Idea for you to explore with this character so thank you.

You can absolutely ask about Red!

Red's backstory, in essence, is she was one of the black arms soldiers sent to Earth/Mobius during the invasion depicted in the Shadow the Hedgehog game. Specifically, she was one of the Black Assassins, the 'elite soldier' types with the funky backpacks.

Her first impression of the people of this particular planet was actually completely cold and logistical. The Black Arms seem to have a bioengineering-based caste system where individuals are cultivated into very specific niches and mobility or just, the ability to choose what you become is completely off the table. In Red's case, her genetic aberration that leads to her eventual namesake coloring was actually seen as a mark of defiance, even from a weeks-old larva that wasn't thinking of anything besides food, warmth, and the right amount of moisture.

To Red, the upper echelons elected to forgive her aberration and, when she performed very well as a soldier, she was actually promoted up a caste due to Black Doom taking a personal interest in her fledgling talents coordinating other Arms. This being uncommon (though perhaps not as shockingly unheard of as Red felt about it) she basically obsessed over this, and it's a huge part of her personality. She's a workaholic who's desperate to please because she constantly feels like she's trying to make up for something she did wrong, which boils all the way back down to being born with a genetic disorder in a system of bioengineers.

(It's not exclusively color, either- she has vulnerabilities to sunlight and hot climates. Basically, she can be thought of as having a form of albinism- she's red instead of white because of the way that black arms' body pigments work.)

Earth was strictly Red's first invasion, but it was most of that army's first invasion. Colonizing an occupied planet tends to have high turnover as the first few generations are fully expected to sacrifice themselves so that the hive can learn and adapt to the terrain. But she was pretty desperate to do it right, and she is, in fact, pretty good at being a soldier. She was also lucky, and didn't run into Shadow or Sonic or any of those other main character types that are one-men-armies.

Ultimately, the only thing that made her reconsider was necessity. I have a headcanon that the Black Arms' telepathy and hive-mindness are linked directly to the Comet itself- not that they can't communicate without it, but they're limited to fairly short distances, much like verbal speech, although not with all of the same limitations. The Comet, which is the hive's 'queen'/brood mother, also has the most powerful telepathic range- and in a sort of symbolic consortship with Black Doom, transmits his will and commands to everyone in range, as well as boosting the range of all connected Black Arms so they can talk to each other across extremely long distances.

This is also stuff Shadow knows nothing about, understandably, having been socialized exclusively by non-telepaths, out of range of any Black Arms hive. He makes plenty of use of the related sensory organs but usually, just for chaos energy, and he dismisses many of the stranger impulses as just a vague feeling.

This means that when Shadow fought Black Doom at the end of the game, he effectively did so with all of his thoughts, feelings, and actions, broadcasted on live television directly into the brains of every Black Arm that was on planet at the time.

And then Doom died, the Comet was destroyed, and nobody could hear anybody anymore. It was absolute mayhem. As-mentioned, this was a mostly-green invasion force who was banking on the fact that strict castes of superiors were managing inferiors and the chains of command weren't supposed to be affected by distance- so squad commanders were not necessarily near their squads, and also, everybody is reeling from what that was and there is no consensus whatsoever.

GUN, responding to hostile aliens that are also metamorphic walking biohazards, was able to take out a huge number of disoriented aliens. Red was lucky enough that a small chunk of the Black Comet landed near her, with three baby Arms larva inside, and that pulled her out of her confusion enough to grab the thing and go into hiding.

And then have a crisis, because, as far as she understands things, Doom is invincible and inevitable. The Arms fundamentally exist in a hierarchy. If she's still alive, there has to be someone at the head of the hive commanding her to live. The only way that someone can fall from that position is if they have been judged infirm by the will of the hive itself- where it is vanquished by a superior force.

So, Red latched onto the idea that this one garbled 'transmission' of the specific crisis Shadow was going through at that point- of his connection to "that planet" and its people and what he wanted to mean and this is who I am and all- was something like the sermon of a new-ascending god. This was a moral instruction. An imperative. The hive had transgressed upon this planet, which was holy, a thing of reverence and dreams and faith- and for its crimes, it had been broken. The only path forward for the survivors was an atonement to learn the new ways.

Which, needless to say, if you're the relatively young child of a military cult who felt your entire life was an obligation to atone for being flawed by becoming the best soldier ever, and you succeeded, only to be told that actually your invasion was horrifying and you hurt people, this leads to an immense amount of stress.

Red is a teen foster-mom and sometimes she has conversations with her space gun that reminds her things used to make sense and be easy before she had moral standards.

So yeah the answer is the nice, high-strung young lady is torn between genuinely liking humans and mobians and also having both the skillset and experience of hunting them down as part of a military campaign and she's a little conflicted that that was completely horrible and also the only time she really felt like she understood the world.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Red the Giant Salamander #Sonic fancharacter #readmore #I suppose this is the catch of making a fancharacter specifically based off the lore of THE 'ow the edge' game #it's not like any of this isn't fair play for the Sonic series but I'm like haha yep! this is definitely a sonic character.#her backstory involves war crimes!

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