#the shapeshifting villain seems really cool and I like the layer of having to take over the characters she is able to transform into

[neofelis----nebulosa]

Uhhh why aren’t the furious 5 in the king fu panda 4 trailer

#what’s going on #trailer looks awful but I’m not too scared bc dreamworks always makes their trailers super juvenile #and they’ve done this franchise especially dirty #I go into them more assessing if the concepts are interesting and I think they are #and I like the design of the new wolf/fox character idk what kind of canid she is #the shapeshifting villain seems really cool and I like the layer of having to take over the characters she is able to transform into #it does seem a bit too similar to the jade zombies from the last movie so I hope they make an effort to thematically differentiate them #if that makes any sense #overall the animation is obviously great but it’s not that much of a step up from the last one #like the quality of the CGI is about the same #I can see a lot of potential for visual spectacle with the villain #and really playing with the animation style #bc one of my favorite thing about the kfp movies is how they do that #like with the 2nd one how they used different art styles to represent different levels of reality?? (ig that’s they best way I could put it) #like the present reality would be in the typical 3d textured animation style #and the dreams were in the 2d style #and the stories were in shadowpuppetry #so yeah overall I’m not to thrilled about them making a 4th bc the og trilogy works so well thematically as a trilogy #with the whole body mind spirit thing #but overall it looks like there’s some promising concepts #but like please don’t push tigress to the background she deserves so much better

[thespianinthebackcorner]

I don't think y'all realise just how different Inklings and Octolings are from humans. Like yes they have a human shape but if you take into account all the biological differences then you'd realise if Splatoon hd any more of a realistic artstyle they'd look like a villain of Doctor Who made to explain why we have the uncanny valley reflex. Just based on my own observations and a little bit of cephalopod knowledge this is all the differences I can find (long post inkoming):

They have tentacles instead of hair. Obvious, I know, but if you saw that irl it'd be weird as hell.

Said tentacles can change colour at will and even glow.

If you follow regular cephalopod logic they should be able to move said tentacles at will too.

Octoling tentacles have already been shown to move on their own the way octopus arms do, since there are brain cells inside each arm. (Marina's hair moves on its own.)

Their skin is extremely thin and smooth, so it'd look like they constantly have an unnatural layer of makeup on or something because their skin doesn't have the trademark roughness and layers that humans have.

They don't have hair. And I know this is basic but this affects them to a much larger extent than you'd notice- they don't have eyelashes (which the game cleverly avoids you noticing with the black mask around the eyes), small hairs on their arms and legs, and they don't shed hair the way we do either.

Speaking of the black mask, it's actually quite thick in width, especially on Inklings, and takes up a fair percentage of their face.

They don't have bones. They seem to have a bit of internal skeleton, since they seem to have spines (and squids do have skeletons, just not made of bone) but they don't have bones the way we do.

speaking of, that lack of bones means they're insanely flexible. Like hyperflexible to the point it would absolutely be considered a medical condition from a human standpoint- I have hyperflexibility and there are things they do that I would never be able to. S2's box art is a good example of this, the main girl's knee is almost bent flat.

Their ears are huge. Like just as a guesstimate your average Inkling ears are 5-10cm out from head to tip, and that's probably wrong. Their ears are also soft and flexible enough that they can easily be pinned back by human-style headphones.

They're majorly ink, so they're extremely light and can easily jump over each other without trying. And they're supposed to be regular human height, so your average Inkling or Octoling could jump over you no problem unless you're like a hundred eighty cm.

Being so light also means they fall slower, which would be extremely weird to see if one just jumps out of a tree and practically floats down compared to how fast humans fall.

despite being light, they're really strong- while heavy weapons like Tents Missiles and the Heavy Splatling weigh them down a bit, they have no problem carrying one unless it's firing. And they can withstand the kickback of high-powered chargers. The kickback of most guns like that that we have will tear your arm off.

As far as I'm aware their teeth aren't separated. It's descendant of a squid's beak (and whatever the octopus equivalent of that is) which is pretty similar to some bird beaks (hence the name) so they don't have separated teeth. It's just a line of bonelike material (yes this disturbs me too)

their blood is blue. Not many of them have their mouths open in promo art but cephalopod blood is blue, and those that do have their mouths open in official art usually have a fairly cool colour on the inside- if it's not blue, it's a navy green or something like that because of their ink colour. Frye is a great example of the blue blood, it's really obvious with her.

To that extent, if you flirted with one it'd probably look like they have severe hypothermia because they'd blush blue instead of red like we do.

did I mention they shapeshift in one of the creepiest ways possible? We all remember the weirdass photos people took in S1 of Inklings mid-shift with their eyes open. That would be extremely weird to see irl

speaking of the shapeshifting, they've somehow managed to engineer their clothes and weapons so that they shift with them :/

They can't touch water without it damaging them, although they still seem to need it in moderate amounts to survive the same way we do. A lot of people ask why there are so many Inkling cities and stages built around water and it's partially because of us, they inherited the ruins we left behind and rebuilt it their own way.

they don't have lips. On humans lips are parts of our mouth turned outwards, but they don't seem to have them. The edges of their mouth do work a little similarly, and they do use like lipstick n stuff (Fuzzy Octolings do and it looks way too good on them) but as far as I can tell they don't have lips the way we do.

Their eyes can have three different colours.

not a biological thing but did y'all notice they only seem to wear socks with sandals

their canines are weirdly placed (and I know I said that their teeth are just a solid line but bear with me here). Some Inklings have three canines, two on the upper row where we have them and one in the centre on the bottom. Octolings only seem to have two, one on the upper left and one on the bottom right. Some Inklings have four canines the way we do.

their pupils aren't always black. Depending on their eye colour they can be a dark blue which is interesting

they seem to be able to control their eye colour and skin tone the way they do with ink, implying they have absolute control over every type of pigment in their body

some Octolings have the peanut-shaped pupils like Marina does and some don't???

Some Octolings may have a source of poison, they're descendant of the Blue-Ringed octopus because they have rings of their own on their tentacles (Side Order highlights this well) but whether or not the toxins carried over is a mystery

They're cannibals btw. No problem eating squid, and Marie makes comments in every game about calamari rings being tasty

They're ever so slightly bioluminescent, you can see it in Splatfests cause they cause a blueish glow on the floor whoever they are

The rings on Octoling tentacles seem to glow on their own, Special charged or no

Seemingly at will with enough energy they can begin glowing quite brightly with an effect that makes them look like they're on fire

This also gives them the strength to unleash hyperstrength or enhance them to a point where it causes damage to others (Pearl using her special strength with the princess cannon, Captain 3 using hyperstrength to throw a giant lawnmower like a kilometre away and then proceed to use the thing in midair)

It also seems to serve as a backup reserve of ink since their specials can be used even if their ink tank is empty.

Please do not underestimate the hyperstrength part, how many of y'all remember Original Agent 3 just barreling through at least one layer of solid concrete

There are a whole bunch of other things like Super Jumping that I'd love to mention but go more into behavioural territory than physical. Btw regular cephalopods can achieve a similar thing to super jumping by ejecting high-pressure ink, which is probably also how Inklings and Octolings do it

Their fingers and toes are squared instead of rounded like ours are

I'm not even about to go into how fucked up their trachea and vocal systems have to be compared to ours to get the voices they have

They can probably see a different range of colours that we do, maybe even a wider one (and I'm aware that current cephalopods have pretty bad eyesight but evolution for land has to be taken into account)

And that's just what I know with a little bit of basic cephalopod knowledge and my own in-game observations. In videogame world they seem fine cause the artstyle is built around them but in a realistic setting they'd be setting off the uncanny valley alarm constantly. On one hand it would be funny to see someone who's good at realism draw the agents or someone like that but also, again, disturbing as hell. Splatoon has the capability to become a horror series and I am grateful it is not. I'm surprised some of the characters in Smash Bros are so chill around them, considering that the Smash Bros collaborations are implied to be canon to some series (Bayonetta in particular is aware of them, when you scan Splatoon amiibos in the switch version of Bayonetta 2 a little message pops up mentioning the narrator's desire to visit, talk to Sheldon, and maybe get an N-Zap. Idk whether that narrator is Bayonetta herself or something else, I've never played a Bayonetta game).

#splatoon #inkling #octoling

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 8

This one is... something. I was supposed to be asleep hours ago. The sun has come up. But it was all more than worth it, and now I am going to pass out.

Based on votes from last time, option B was chosen-- speak to Leader and Hacker. There’s going to be a little flip in allegiances this time around, and some questions will finally be answered! The choose your own adventure aspect is going to be a bit different too, this time around, but more detail about that at the end.

For now, I hope you enjoy!

CW//Drugged whumpee, confusion, nightmares, past trauma, murder, strangled to death, minor body horror (shapeshifting)

The wave of cool water felt heavenly as it washed over Villain’s throat. Even as the movement exhausted them, they drank every drop as if it would be their last, and, when the last drop was at last reached, they whined.

“There you go.”

The voice felt closer, this time, coming from behind only one layer of fog rather than a thousand. It was close, just like the warm hand, wrapped around their shoulders, keeping them upright.

Everything was so warm...

“Hero... Hero warm...”

A slight chuckle replied to that, the hand on their back gently rubbing between their shoulder blades. Making them feel like they had blood, like there was something inside them other than dry ice.

They had been so cold, just a moment ago, mind spiraling with something... something bad. What had it been? Had it been anything at all?

Did it matter, now that Hero was here?

“Yeah. Hero warm. Are you warm enough?”

“Mhm.” They purred. The silk webbing wrapping around them, that which had once been uncomfortable, restraining, now felt so soft. They could sink into it forever...

“Do you need anything?”

“Tired.”

“You want to go back to bed?”

“Yeah. Hero stay...”

“Yeah. Yeah, Hero stay.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Hero.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Villain.”

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The warm body in Hero’s arms, hardly recognizable beneath layers of fleece and fabrics, took only a moment to turn heavy and limp, breathing slowly until it was only shown by the slow rise and fall of their chest.

Even as exhaustion tugged at their own limbs, even as they wanted more than anything to curl up in those blankets themself, they knew they couldn’t. Hero couldn’t stay.

As gently as they could manage, given Villain’s limp weight, they laid their ward down on their side. The unconscious person murmured and twitched as the blankets were readjusted, but did not stir.

Villain was comfortable. Villain was safe. That was what mattered. Even though...

Hero took their phone from their pocket, flinching at the blazing screen light.

Seven in the morning. They had hoped to be able to claim a few hours of rest alongside Villain, but their own worry had made that impossible. Now, it was already morning.

Hell, they were supposed to be eating with their team by six thirty. Yet, no one had knocked to awake them, yet.

Hero hauled themself to their feet, limbs aching and joints popping all the way. They hardly registered the chill beneath their feet as they made their way to the door.

Only for it to nearly slam into them. They leapt backwards, barely catching themself.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Leader’s wide eyes showed that they had been expecting Hero just as much as they had been expecting them. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you didn’t hit me.”

“Good.” Their gaze cast downwards, to the item carried in their arms-- a platter of food. Fortunately, none had fallen.

“Is that for Villain?”

“No, dimwit. I don’t think they could get anything down if you forced it down their throat. This is for you.”

“Oh.”

“When is the last time you ate?”

“Um...”

“Lunch yesterday, got it.”

“It’s... Isn’t everyone else already eating?”

“They’re already done. I told them you needed your rest. Thought you’d prefer eating in here.”

Hero shook their head, pointing back at the snoring pile of blankets.

“Can’t wake them up.”

“Oh.”

“I can just, um, eat out there.”

“No, you’re going to-” Leader bit their tongue, reformulating their sentence. “Um, how about you come and eat with me in my office? I haven’t eaten yet, either.”

Hero was in no way used to such a delicately formatted request.

“Sure.”

“Alright.” Leader nodded, handing over the platter, which they gratefully took. The two moved out of the room-- the former taking surprising care to close the door gently, so as to not make any noise.

The common room was deserted, thank the heavens. There were no distractions as they moved to Leader’s office. The chairs still hadn’t moved since their discussion last night. Hero sat.

“So...” Leader maneuvered around their side of their desk, seating themself. “How did you sleep?”

“Didn’t.”

“Not at all?”

“Maybe a bit. I’m not sure. Villain woke up and...” They trailed off.

“And?”

Leader had no need to know of Villain’s words.

“I had to get them back to sleep. They drank some water, too.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Hero perked their ears, hearing a noise beyond the office door. “I’m surprised that they’re leaving us alone.”

“I told them to.” Leader speared a chunk of scrambled eggs with a fork, raising it to their lips.

The events of last night came flooding back.

“What did you tell them? What did you tell everyone? I thought they’d have been all over me once they knew I came back. They do know, right?”

“They certainly wanted to bother you.” Leader swallowed the chunk of egg. “I didn’t let them.”

“So they do know?”

“Kinda.” They straightened themself, playing with the food upon their plate momentarily. “I told them that I came back last night, and found you here. As far as they know, you escaped on your own, and Villain’s whereabouts are unknown.”

“And they believed you?”

“I think they were just glad to know that you were okay. And, y’know, not dead. You’re probably going to get hounded with questions later, but, for now, I made it very clear that you’re to be left alone.”

“Thank you.” Hero spoke half-breathlessly.

“It’s not a problem. You’re officially relieved of mission duty until you’ve recovered.”

“R-Really?”

“You need to rest. Even if you aren’t injured, you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah...”

“So, until you’re feeling better, let me handle that.” They took another bite, making Hero note the fact that they hadn’t so much as looked at their own food. Even the thought of eating something made their stomach twist.

“Thank you.”

“Really, it’s fine. So... How is our, y’know, secret?”

“Villain?”

“Duh.”

“They’re... they’re fine, I think. Still out of it. But, like I said, I got them to drink some water. And they seemed to recognize me.”

“They didn’t recognize you before?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least. They were really out of it.”

“Are you ever planning on telling me what happened to them?”

Hero had almost forgotten that Leader was in the dark about the whole thing. Yet, they were being so trusting. Hell, they hadn’t even trusted Hero when they hadn’t been lying to them.

“Um...”

“You don’t have to.”

It was the first time they’d ever heard Leader string those particular words together.

“But, I would like to know. You need your rest, and Villain needs a caretaker. I was a nurse once, y’know.”

“You were?”

“I don’t know if your surprise should insult me. But, yes. I can keep watch over them while you sleep, but it would help if I actually knew what was wrong with them.”

“Yeah.” Hero scratched the back of their neck. “Thing is, um, I don’t really know?”

“Well, you said they were drugged, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that for sure.”

“Do you know what with?”

“About that...”

Leader raised a brow.

Hero let their next words tumble out of their lips like a waterfall, unable to stop once it had begun to flow.

“Villain has been kept sedated to unconsciousness for the last year. They were supposed to be rehabilitated, but they were drugged instead. I don’t know why.”

Leader dropped their fork.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what drugs they were given. Just that they were sedated.”

“I see. How did... How did they leave the rehab facility.”

Hero diverted their gaze.

“That’s not really important.”

A sigh.

“Okay. We can talk about that later. Thank you, for telling me. Was there... Was there a reason? They wouldn’t just be drugged for no reason.”

Hero shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know.”

Leader bit their lip.

“With everything going on recently, I hesitate to ignore the possibility that Director had something to do with it.”

“You really think so?”

“Maybe. You aren’t planning on eating, are you?”

“I...” Hero felt their face flush. “I don’t feel too well.”

“That’s fine. I’ll clean up. You go get your rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll keep everyone away from your room. And, Hero?”

“Yeah?”

“Sleep in your own bed. I can keep an eye on Villain.”

“Thank you.”

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Collapsing onto their own bed felt like falling onto a cloud. The mattress curved, shifting to cradle their aching body. For a moment, Hero could not help but nestle themself in it, letting their pillow almost envelope their head.

Birds had long since begun their outside chirping, but that was inconsequential. At that point, Hero could have slept through an earthquake.

But, apparently, not through a phone call.

The ringing noise jolted them from their blissful repose. Without thought, their hand blindly searched for the vibrating device on their nightstand. They blinked against the screen’s bright light.

Hacker. A wave of relief filled their chest-- they were okay. Without thought, they accepted the call, placing the phone to their ear.

“Hero?”

“Yep. Hey, Hacker.”

“Oh, thank god you’re alright! Though you do sound a little bit like garbage.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying, just saying. Oh, you have no idea how worried I was. The news only just broke this morning. I could hardly sleep, last night.”

“I thought you were like, nocturnal.”

A stutter.

“I mean, you kept me up all day, so. You know how it is. But I’m just really glad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just tired.”

“You must be. The news... that wasn’t right, was it? They said you escaped from Villain.”

“The reports are wrong. I never got captured in the first place. But, I’m just fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How is...”

“Villain?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Really out of it, but fine.”

“That’s good. Look, I know you’re tired, but I just found something that... Well, I think you’re really gonna want to hear it.”

“What is it?”

“Not here. Not over the phone. Too dangerous.”

“You want to meet up again?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure that’s, like, a good idea?”

“Not in public like before. That wouldn’t be good for either of us, I don’t think. But I know another place.”

“Oh?”

“It’s, um, so, this is gonna sound bad. It’s this abandoned warehouse thing. And I know that sounds sketchy as hell, but it’s fine, I promise. I’ve been to a few parties there. The underground kind of people use it a lot, so it’s perfectly safe.”

“Um... Okay. Where is it?”

“Ashworth, on the East side. It’s pretty obvious once you see it, but the number on it is 62.”

“You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly, like, it’s abandoned, but there’s parties there all the time. And it should be empty during the day. How fast can you get there?”

“Um...” Hero blinked with leaden eyelids. “Does it have to be right now?”

“I guess it could wait. Why?”

“I feel like I’m going to collapse. I’m exhausted, Hacker.”

“Oh. How about tonight?”

“Tonight is fine.”

“Does eight sound good?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Uh, sleep well.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

And, with a collapse onto their pillow and the click of a hung-up phone call, Hero was out.

Yet, as they fell into unconsciousness, a single thought couldn’t help but worm its way into their consciousness:

Hacker hated other people. They wouldn’t be caught dead going to a party.

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“Villain?”

It was a soft voice, yet marked with a distinctively higher pitch. Villain stirred, kicking at their layers of blankets.

“Hey, Villain. Can you open your mouth for me?”

The voice was odd, yet warm. They blinked their eyes open, letting the world come into focus around them.

A figure, kneeled down in front of them. A face...

They knew that face.

Someone familiar. Someone they’d fought before...

Leader. Why was Leader here?

“You need to open your mouth for me, okay?” It was Leader’s voice, but not their tone. It shouldn’t have been that soft, right? Or maybe their memories were simply foggy.

Regardless, they allowed their jaw to fall open. The taste of plastic filled their mouth as an eyedropper was placed upon their tongue, followed by the bitter taste of medicine, sliding down their throat. Villain struggled to cough up the liquid, but their jaw was gently held in position until they had swallowed every last drop.

“There.” The taste of plastic retreated, disappearing as a few sips of water were washed down after. “Thank you.”

“W- What is...”

“It’s gonna make all that drug withdrawal easier.”

The face went out of focus, replaced by a black dot, in the center of Villain’s vision. A spoon.

“Can you look at this?” A fingernail tapped the plastic dinnerware. They nodded.

Slowly, at first, the spoon began to move. First left to right, then up and down, before moving around more erratically. After a few moments, Villain blinked, shaking their head, eyes exhausted.

“Thank you.” The spoon lowered out of view. “You’re gonna need a bit more time to recover, but you’re getting there. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, hun.”

Villain let their heavy eyelids fall closed, barely registering as their blankets were tucked back in around their chest. Warmth enveloped them, mind wrapped in blissful heat, until...

Chill. An unmistakable chill biting their skin, nipping at their reddened nose. They blinked, rubbing their eyes with one hand, the world around them taking shape.

Taking shape...

Taking the wrong shape.

Where were...

They blinked once more, their surroundings coming into focus. Far more focus than their vision had permitted them in a very, very long time.

The building before them was large enough to block out the sun.

It could only be described as a brick-- that was what it was, a brick of concrete, marked by little more than faded graffiti and tattered signs that may have once warned against trespassing. The only marking that remained clearly visible was the number-- the building number, sticking out in brown-painted metal.

62.

Villain felt bile rise in their throat. They knew exactly where they were. The car they’d used to get here was only a minute’s walk away. They needed to get to it, to run, to turn and leave as fast their legs would take them. This was it! Their second chance! Their chance to leave, to make everything right again. To unmake the decision that had ruined them.

But they could not turn. Their legs would not move under their command, instead, alien limbs began to move forward. Towards the building’s entrance.

No, no, please no!

They needed to turn, to leave, but...

They did not have the power to make that decision. They could only watch.

Why had they been here in the first place? All that time ago... To confront someone. To find Supervillain. They’d done something. Hurt someone, maybe?

Panic twisted their thoughts far too much to allow them to focus on such far-away memories. The panic of moving, moving eternally forwards. To the entrance, through the doorway.

Into the warehouse.

Inside was terribly dark, small slivers of light illuminating only an expanse of boxes long since left abandoned, their cargo doomed to rot. They had never understood why Supervillain spent so much time here. Certainly they could have found a better hideout.

But, Supervillain was strange. No one understood them.

They were here, though. Villain could feel them, hear heavy breathing, sense the way their presence disrupted the psychic landscape around.

Villain stilled.

Leave. Turn around. Go! It’s not worth it, they begged themself. But...

But their hand reached for their pocket, producing a phone in trembling hands. They tapped the screen, activating the flashlight, flooding the concrete floor with illumination.

However, they hardly needed the light to remember what came next. The image would never leave their mind, they were certain of it. Never remove itself from where it was burned irreversibly into their corneas.

One figure, leaned over another. Holding them to the ground.

Hands over their neck.

If Director had at any point struggled, their straining had long since ceased. The only sign of life they displayed came in the way they weakly kicked against Supervillain’s unyielding grip.

Villain was not the one being strangled, but they could not breathe even so.

“Who the hell is there?” The voice, that furious, terrible tone, echoed off of every concrete wall and rotten crate.

Supervillain looked up from their victim, gaze meeting that of their newfound witness.

“Who!”

Villain’s legs went stock-still. They could have run, at any point, they could have run, they could have run.

But...

Director stopped struggling. Supervillain stood, rolling out their shoulders.

For a moment, their body twisted, snapping and curling in on itself. Bones morphing, shrinking or extending, muscles rearranging themselves in a horrible scene.

Villain had forgotten just how horrible it was, to watch Supervillain use their powers.

When, at last, their transformation was complete, Villain was staring back at the living face of Director.

Cold, grey eyes met theirs.

“Villain?”

Supervillain, the new Director, grumbled, moving over to the corpse of their victim. Prying a walkie-talkie from their belt.

Holding it to their own mouth.

“Hello, HQ? I’m going to need some backup, here.”

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Inside the warehouse was terribly dark.

Hero’s legs felt nearly numb, wandering within, only the slightest slivers of light able to creep in through the door. They walked by those shreds of light, though they hardly did so much as allowing them to see their own feet before them.

Still, they walked. The building smelled terribly of rotten wood.

“Hacker?” Their voice echoed off of every concrete wall and rotten crate. “Are you here?”

“Over here.” The voice called from the other side of the building-- how had they gotten all the way over there?

“Where? Is there a light in this place?”

“It’s been abandoned for half a century. No, there are no lights. Doesn’t your phone have a flashlight?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Hero fumbled in their own pocket for a moment, taking out the device. Even with the flashlight, however, the darkness still seemed to envelope the whole world. They cast the beam of illumination around, scanning, yet finding nothing but crates and graffiti. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“Here.”

A figure stepped out from behind a support beam. Hacker’s small frame looked even more minuscule, surrounded by crates twice their height. They were half-hidden by an oversized hoodie, yet, their hood was not pulled up.

They always pulled their hood up.

Hero shook their head. They were being paranoid.

“I’m so glad to see you’re, like, alive.” Hacker smiled, approaching at a quick clip. Their laptop bag was hung across their chest, bouncing with their movements. “You aren’t hurt or anything, right?”

“No.” Hero shook their head, moving forward to meet their friend in the middle of the building. “I’m okay.”

“That’s too bad.”

“What?” Hero rubbed an ear-- had they heard wrong?

“I always heard you were a fucking idiot. Guess I just never realized to what extent.”

That... That was not Hacker’s voice.

Hero took a step back, a chill filling their chest.

Hacker’s form quickly began to fill their formerly oversized hoodie as, below them, their legs extended with a horrid noise of cracking and popping. Their facial features did the same, shifting as though molded in putty.

Director was taller than Hero.

Hero gulped.

Director took a step forth-- polished shoes clacking against concrete. How had Hero not noticed the shoes? Hacker would never wear something like that.

They...

Director held out a hand. To shake.

Hero raised an upper lip, baring their teeth.

“Where is Hacker?”

Laughter echoed against the walls.

“That’s what you’re worried about, right now?”

“They’re my friend!” Hero stomped. “And a civilian. Don’t bring them into this.”

Director smirked.

“I assure you, your friend is fine.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Well, right now, you’re going to have to.”

Hero took another step back, turning to run, already feeling their heartbeat elevate to a quick tattoo in their throat.

But...

There was nowhere to go.

“I didn’t bring you here for no reason, dear.”

There must have been a dozen of them, if not more. A dozen figures, scattered in loose formation, blocking the entrance. Surrounding them.

Hero spun back around. They were there now, behind Director, too.

And they knew every last face. Every reformed villain. Every rehab center graduate.

They gulped.

“Now.”

Hero didn’t realize how close Director had gotten, not until they laid a massive hand upon their shoulder.

“We are going to talk.”

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Thanks so much for reading! This time, the choices are going to be a bit different. In the way of, there are no choices! At least, none that I am coming up with. You guys have given so many amazing suggestions in the past, so I thought, how about you suggest what happens next in our story.

Instead of giving you guys choices, its up to you to decide what our Hero will do next. If you really like another person’s suggestion, you can vote for it! Otherwise, I will choose what I find the most interesting.

I’m hoping that this will be fun. If it proves to be difficult/complicated/etc, I can certainly add choices, but I thought I’d do something a bit different this time around ^^

#nemesis #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #villain whumpee #whump community #whumpblr #whump #hero villain whump #hero caretaker #supervillain whumper #supervillain

[moonlightreal]

This is the “author’s note” I found on the amazon pages for the pretty hardcover Night World books.  My memory is that it was just there, the book-blurb at the top by the cover picture, was this. 

Like a bonehead I just copied the text without grabbing a screencap or noting the date.  The amazon page now has the publication date is December 2016 so this bit of optimism was just before Ms. Smith vanished.  Of course we don’t know when it was written or whose idea it was.  Was Strange Fate really finished or was someone just feeling hopeful? 

NIGHT WORLD Dear Readers, It’s hard to tell you how much the re-release of the Night World books means to me. It has allowed me to come full circle, to complete a cycle that began with Secret Vampire. It has allowed me to finish Strange Fate, which grew into an epic that included roles for almost every Night World character. And Strange Fate allowed me to show the origins of the Night World, the apocalypse that threatens to destroy it, and even a possible future in which the evil side of the Night World prevails. I am often asked how I conceived the idea for the Night World series. It began when I wanted to write stand-alone novels that would combine horror and romance. But I wanted more: I wanted to do a series in which this Night World—a vast, secret world that exists within the everyday world—would slowly reveal itself to readers. That’s why the first book is called Secret Vampire: the inhabitants of the Night World, composed of vampires, shapeshifters, witches, and other supernatural creatures I wanted to invent, are hidden from humans. A vampire is necessarily a secret vampire … because of the laws. I also wanted to write about a new kind of forbidden love. That’s not easy—most good forbidden love topics were old by Shakespeare’s time. But with this series, I could create the possibility of forbidden love simply by saying that the laws of the Night World prohibit a Night Person from falling in love with a human. But I still needed one more ingredient. I needed the rise of the soulmate principle to actively force Night People to fall in love with humans, no matter how hard they fought against it. Voilà! Then it was just a matter of making up interesting characters and setting them loose in my head to see what they would do. I often begin like that: sitting in a quiet room and searching for a sparkle in my mind that could become my new heroine. Sometimes it’s easy and a whole character shimmers before me. Sometimes I only get the faintest firefly glimmer of a new girl, and I have to hold my breath and see if that glimmer will materialize into a three-dimensional person. Heroes and anti-heroes are easier. It’s just a matter of picking one that will be a true soulmate for my heroine. I have a whole collection of these characters in my mind, all trying to crash the party. And they’re usually bad boys. The settings and in-depth plot development are another layer of work. But often the characters just run off and do what they want, and I have trouble keeping up with their antics on my keyboard. One thing I always do is look carefully at my characters and plot from all angles to make sure I’m not plagiarizing a book or series that I may have read before. That’s just normal procedure for ethical authors: we make sure our stories aren’t too much like another story we might have read. Of course, there are many ideas that have been around since the Babylonian myths, and many characters that are archetypal. But, really, it’s almost impossible to take many things from the body of another author’s work—say, someone else’s character(s) or plot or story device—without actually intending to do so. I can’t imagine wanting to do that. I wish I could say every author felt the same. Poppy North is a character I examined very carefully. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t too much like Bonnie McCullough, another petite character of mine from The Vampire Diaries. I didn’t even want to plagiarize myself ! But Poppy convinced me that she was a tough little squirt who by high school had already planned out her future, which is very unlike Bonnie. Poppy was going to marry her mysterious friend James—she just hadn’t informed him yet. Also, unlike Bonnie, she had a fatal flaw in her small body. In Secret Vampire, I knew I was dealing with a serious issue: terminal cancer in a high school girl. So I did a lot of research before deciding on a type of cancer that would be truly inoperable and give Poppy only a month or two to live. I went to several hospitals to talk to nurses in oncology wards. I always brought toys for the hospitalized children, but the whole subject was so heartbreaking I was almost afraid to tackle it. Once I did, though, I found that Poppy was even stronger than I had imagined. In the book, she makes the only choice she can to go on living, and she never looks back. Poppy is one of my favorite girls, and she ushers in Ash Redfern, who quickly became one of my favorite bad boys. Ash has a murky past of womanizing and … well, more womanizing. Ash returns in Daughters of Darkness because he has been ordered by the leader of all vampires, Hunter Redfern, to bring his three runaway sisters back to their cloistered vampire island. But when Ash locates his sisters, he runs straight into the human stargazer Mary-Lynnette, and the sparks begin flying—literally. Mary-Lynnette is a character I made up when I was a kid, and I’m always surprised by how many people like her and Ash together. Mary-Lynnette spends most of the time expressing her feelings for Ash by kicking him in the shins, but their dialogues are some of my favorite passages in the whole series. Ash, in turn, escorts Quinn into the series. And Quinn (who does have a first name, though he rarely uses it) is one really scary guy. A vampire since 1639 A.D., Quinn is sharp, cold, humorless, and heartless. Unlike Ash, who is mainly guilty of an incredibly long series of one-night stands, Quinn enters the series as a human slave trader. That is, he provides vampires with young girls, and he doesn’t ask questions about what happens to the girls afterward. This led to a problem: How on earth was I going to redeem this villain enough to make him someone’s soulmate in The Chosen? I really sweated over that. My first task was to make Quinn more sympathetic. The best way to do it seemed to be by telling a bit of Quinn’s own tragic story: how he falls in love with sweet Dove Redfern, and how her vampire father decides to make Quinn his heir. Dove’s father is Hunter Redfern, one of the most important vampire leaders in Night World history. This is the same Hunter Redfern who, nearly half a millennium later, sends Ash to drag his sisters back home. The same Hunter Redfern who sends his daughter, Lily, after Jez in Huntress. The same Hunter Redfern who tries to turn Delos into a merciless killer in Black Dawn. But, as a boy, Quinn doesn’t know anything about the Night World, and he is deeply in love with gentle Dove. When Hunter makes him a vampire by force and then when Quinn can’t save Dove from being killed, Quinn’s heart freezes over. For four hundred years it accumulates ice—until he meets Rashel. That’s another favorite scene of mine: when Rashel, a dedicated vampire hunter since (guess who?) Hunter Redfern killed her mother, encounters Quinn. A group of Rashel’s fellow vampire slayers have captured Quinn and plan to torture him, and Rashel is left alone to guard him. Quinn, feeling old and tired despite his youthful appearance and great power, gives himself up for dead—and is a little glad to do so. Rashel, however, can’t stomach the idea of torture. When Rashel talks to this most-hated vampire and hears his story, she deliberately sets him free. And that astonishes him. But it’s the soulmate principle working its magic. I loved making two such strong-willed enemies succumb to the silver cord that connects them. I especially loved hearing Quinn warning Rashel not to let him go—and then protecting her when her comrades arrive back in time to see that she’s let him loose. I really loved writing about Quinn and Rashel’s soulmate sequences. As Rashel enters Quinn’s mind, she sees “thorny scary parts” but also “rainbow places that were aching to grow” and “other parts that seemed to quiver with light, desperate to be awakened.” She begins to think that people ask so little of themselves. If the mind of a slave trader can look like this, an ordinary person must have the power to become a saint. It is with this revelation (and much penance on Quinn’s part) that Quinn is redeemed. That’s the thread that binds all the novels together: redemption. The possibility of a second chance. Everyone has choices to make, but even the most evil of vampires can choose to atone and be redeemed. It may not necessarily stave off punishment in this world or the next, but redemption is possible. I’ve been asked who my favorite characters are, and the answer always changes because it depends on the book I’m writing. Right now my favorites are three characters from Strange Fate. As for my favorite couples in the published books? Morgead and Jez—I suppose. Who would find themselves at greater odds than a vampire gang leader and his onetime superior, a vampire who finds out she is half human? I learned some cool martial arts moves as a bonus for writing about them. Then there is Keller, one of my all-time favorite heroines, and Iliana, the beautiful Witch Child, and Galen, ruler of the shapeshifters: the love triangle in Witchlight. Keller starts out seeming brusque and businesslike, but the love of Galen and of the unselfish Iliana help to heal her inner wounds. And I can’t forget Thierry and Hannah, and Circle Daybreak. I created Circle Daybreak because the Night World witches had only two clans: Circle Twilight and Circle Midnight. Those, like Thea in Spellbinder, who belong to Circle Twilight are not-so-wicked witches (that is, they don’t want to exterminate all humans like the darkest witches, those who belong to Circle Midnight), but they are still wicked enough. So what was to be done with all these new soulmates, when Night World law said that they must be put to death? Someone had to make a place for them where they would be safe, and I decided it was Thierry, one of the oldest vampires, and Hannah, his Old Soul soulmate, who has lived hundreds of lifetimes without ever reaching the age of seventeen. They are the ones who revive Circle Daybreak, where humans and Night People can forget about past tragedies and concentrate on a brighter future together. Although Thierry is an old vampire, he isn’t the oldest vampire. There is one older, the one who Changed him. She provides another thread that binds the series: the pitiless Maya. Maya is the first vampire, the witch who finds the secret of eternal life—and chooses to use it for evil. But there will be plenty more about her, including a look at the young Maya, her sister Hellewise, and their mother, Hecate Witch-Queen, in the upcoming Strange Fate. And so now I’ve come full circle, back to Strange Fate. But I can’t finish until I add the other joy that the re-release of Night World has brought me. It’s brought me into contact with you by e-mail. Night World fans write so many intelligent, articulate, courteous, exciting e-mails! I love to get messages from “old” fans, who say my works “got them through high school.” Thank you for them! And messages from new fans, who say they have just read all my reissued books—and are impatient for more. Thank you! And the messages that simply demand: “When is Strange Fate coming out?” Thank you, too! With a full heart, all I can say is thank you, thank you, and thank you again! I never thought I would have a chance to write an open letter to all Night World fans, and I can only wish that you knew how grateful I am … for this second chance. Sincerely, (LJ Smith signature image) P.S. I love to get e-mail, letters, and messages. Visit me at ljanesmith.net!

#nightworld #ljsmith strangefate #strange fate #LJ Smith

[what-even-is-thiss]

Creative Essay on: the voice of Thomas Sanders.

This creative non fiction essay was inspired by this post by @ironwoman359 and the ask was by @peachie-keeen so maybe I’ll tag them too. Nervously. I dunno if this will do as good of a job describing anything as that post did, but I’ll sure try.

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about the voice of @thatsthat24 for over a year and a half now. So, here are some of them. And I guess I’m getting some creative non fiction practice in at the same time so that’s cool. Essay under the cut.

I should probably point out before we start that I haven’t been trained with the vocabulary to describe voices. This is just a creative interpretation with the limited knowledge that I have. It’s not too terribly long so I’m not gonna put  word count.

A voice. A noise. Has kind of a... yellow quality to it? Maybe like honey. Not the taste of honey. Like the color. A dark rich yellow. But it can change color so rapidly, right?

His voice in particular I mean. That guy from Vine and YouTube. The Floridian one. Wait. There are more than... Thomas Sanders. Thomas Sanders is what I’m talking about. Him specifically,

Well probably not everybody associates feelings with colors. I do. And the feeling, the general vibe I get from listening to his voice is the color of honey. So how Do I explain this some other way?

It’s bright, to use a different visual metaphor, but it can go dark in a second. It moves from high to low naturally even faster, but the singing bit is almost always low. Except for the falsetto. That is a rare thing to hear but when you do hear it then it reminds you of a boy’s choir with how high it is, but it’s lost that purity that disappears with puberty. But it does sound like it would be more at home in a church choir than a disco number if that makes sense. But that’s just the falsetto. And I’ve only heard that once.

What about the normal singing voice? Well that’s got a variety too. It’s low though. It’s low. Not extremely low. It’s a... baritone? Baritone. That’s the word. But sometimes it’s just a little higher? It seems to be made to be just slightly old fashioned but in the newest way. Like it’s perfectly made to sing Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra and keep up with the best of the crooners and yet also be a golden era Disney Prince but at the same time not. There’s something unmistakably modern about it. Maybe it was made for the theater. Not really for pop. It’s not very poppy. Not quite pop-ish. But it’s definitely with the times. Right at home here in this early 21st century situation we’re in right now. But elegant. Like a voice that makes even the most ridiculous things seem classy. Never pretentious. Always approachable. Usually smooth. Not a whole lot of vocal pyrotechnics to be found, but impressive just the same.

Oh, and he riffs a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

Now the speaking voice is more complicated. That can go all over the place. Can change color in an instant. Jumping from its normal honey yellow to black to green to bright yellow to bright blue and back again. Now how to explain that in normal terms...

Let’s start with the laugh. The thing that seems to come too easily for him and punctuates every few sentences. The normal one is bright and goofy. Not like the character Goofy. It’s unique to Mr. Thomas Sanders. It’s silly and genuinely full of joy. You can hear the “HA HA HA HA” as he laughs. It’s quick, but you can hear it. But other times it’s a giggle. Like he’s giddy about everything all the time. Like he’s restraining himself from bouncing up and down and covering his smile with his hands. And then his laugh is evil. Jumping down in tone, coming from the base of his throat, carrying the sound of an evil smile with it. And it is delightful and delicious and is nothing like the joyful belly laugh you’re used to, but somehow you’re not surprised that it came from Thomas.

The normal speaking voice? It’s... higher than the singing voice but not by much. It’s expressive even when it’s quiet. Like it was made for the stage. It’s a voice that’s always playing for the back row whether it wants to be or not. It’s bright enough that you feel if you look at it long enough you might get burned, but you never do. Instead of hurting you find it stays warm and approachable. Almost like a cartoon, but too real for that. Except when it’s not. It’s a voice that would be good with kids but could get genuine enough for adults. It sounds sincere and then it’s ridiculous. It’s happy but then it’s confused. Like it’s surprised to be there, but happy to be there just the same.

But then Thomas’ speaking voice morphs like the shapeshifter that it is. It goes higher with a horribly fake but endearing British accent. It’s much more juvenile when it’s like that. Innocent and strange. Then he goes from being like a cartoon character to actually being a cartoon character. He tightens his throat and speaks from the top back of his mouth to become the Family Guy character Stewie Griffin and from his tone you would believe he’s that evil British sounding baby, set on killing people and hating sprinkles. Then he’s Stitch, squeaky and hard to understand. A blue alien landed in Hawaii. And you believe it, even as it’s his human face there.

Then there’s his own characters. Some of which fall into the more villainous tone. A deeper tone. Sometimes he’s a bad boy, like when he played Jason Dean and sung about freezing his brain. There he’s comfortable and planning something. So sure that he’s right and dangerous and smooth. Or maybe he’s that anxiety character. The literal embodiment of fear. Then there’s always something on guard about him and you can just hear his voice straining to go that low. He’s sarcastic and mean but protective and careful. There’s a primal sneer hiding deep in the background behind that makeup coated facade even as the voice goes gentle. Then he’s the embodiment of deception with all the smooth talking charms of a Victorian devil. Moving smoothly and capturing that movement in his voice. So deliciously evil you can’t help but love to hate him. Or maybe the deep tone isn’t villainous or threatening at all. Maybe it’s loud and serious. A trailer voice. In a world where he would announce what is coming next.

Go a little higher and what do we find? A monotone with expression. Just the right amount of interesting for being a teacher, which is exactly what he becomes. An educator with all the verbal movement necessary to keep someone engaged for a lecture. Not so loud you tune him out, but not so monotone you lose interest. All the brightness and darkness gone, it’s just interesting. A voice that is simply interesting. Nothing more and nothing less, which is what it aims to be. Without brightness, even as it rises in frustration.

A little higher and louder and what do we find? He’s filled his chest with sound and projected it out to the world. Each word has an extra curve and embellishment, like he stepped straight out of a fairy tale and someone splashed his words with dust made of diamonds. Yes, he is a prince. Directly out of your daydreams. The words themselves sweep you off your feet and take you on a royal adventure. More cartoonish than ever. More regal than ever. Taste the pretentiousness he’s spewing into the air. It’s surprisingly beautiful as it swirls about in a flurry of white and pink and gold and you laugh at just how well he does it and hear his singing voice gain a layer of magic reserved only for royalty.

Go higher than his normal range and the brightness is back with a vengeance. It’s like how I imagine the sky on a clear day would sound. Thomas’ voice becomes so overcome with joy you imagine it will take on a life of it’s own and go bouncing away. He is supportive, but tied to the earth with a thread that could snap any minute. He sounds like he’s constantly holding back a squeal of delight as he talks from the top of his mouth. He still gives off an authority though even as the voice bounces off of the word ‘kiddo’ like a trampoline. He turns on the dad voice and sounds serious but loving even as the voice holds a juvenile quality to it. It’s the verbal equivalent of watching a set of colorful balloons tied to a playground be buffeted by a sudden wind.

I’m certain too, that there are a million other places Thomas Sanders’ voice could take us that it hasn’t yet. How do you describe it? It’s a shapeshifter and a traveler, moving from the depths of his chest up through the mouth all the way to the tip of his nose. It’s an instrument the man has mastered and it shows.

#thatsthat24 #thomas sanders #tsart #sanders sides #roman wrote a thing #essay #creative non fiction