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#words from a gremlin

a-flying-fortress · 5 months

Note

But if you’re too awkward to talk to me and I’m too awkward to talk to you.. then who’s flying the plane??

Alfred, obviously This little guy right here! He doesn’t have a pilot’s license, but I think he’s qualified.

#words from a gremlin

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scarrletmoon · 4 months

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i originally added this to this post and then realized it was almost entirely off topic so:

people more eloquent than me (@chuplayswithfire comes to mind) have talked about racism within the context of the show and how izzy exemplifies a version of it that’s subtle enough to be realistic, obvious to POC and almost invisible to a lot of white people

i don’t think the writers wrote izzy intending him to be a racist the same way the badmintons or the british navy are. but saying he’s not racist at all, despite clearly living in a racist world, misses the point that i — and many other POC — have been trying to make. even stede is racist (see s1e2) and he’s our romantic hero

my point is, white people tend to perceive “that’s racist” as an attack on their moral integrity rather than a description of patterns of behavior, and it’s important to acknowledge when that happens so we can have actual productive conversations. i think some white people are afraid of calling something out when it seems like bullshit, and i’d encourage y’all to just……read more. read about anti racism. read about microaggressions. read about the history of racism in your country and the backlash that always follows progress

it’s going to take time and it’s going to feel uncomfortable, but i promise you’ll be vastly less afraid about fucking up if you just arm yourself with information

#scarrlet rambles #ofmd #like a lot of us are queer and weren’t born knowing all the words #same thing here #this strayed from the topic of fandom but idk #i think people need the reminder #and im not tagging the gremlin man bc i dont want to deal with racists in my notifs

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ickypuppi3 · 1 year

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post starcourt billy and steve who’s bonding time consists of getting high and watching movies because steve suggested it one time and now it’s like.. a thing

steve bringing back gremlins (1984) for them to watch when it gets to december because it’s festive, billy and never taking it back to family video because, turns out, billy actually kinda loves that movie

and steve realises he kinda really loves seeing billy happy

billy and steve accidentally co parenting a black cat that billy found hanging around in steve’s back yard and calling her gizmo because steve thought it would be funny because, you know- billy and gizmo

billy always walking around with this cat just sat on his shoulder or lying around his neck when he goes to steve’s because they’re basically inseparable at this point

#billy adopting misunderstood animals can be something so personal #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #she might live at steve’s but billy is hers and steve’s on thin ice on a good day #also like her having this high pitched meow that steve swears makes her sound exactly like gizmo from the movie which is why she HAD to be #called that #sure he was kinda fucked up at the time but he knows he’s right #the idea of them watching gremlins is fun to me idk #and i feel like it’d be an experience while high #yes they get together and yes they also go and watch gremlins 2 in ‘90 #my words

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pb-dot · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday: The Clockmen

Another Wednesday WIP bit. Today I'll be looking at one of two villainous factions in Hearts In Clockwork and the most relevant one to the action of The Clockwork Boy. There are members of The Clockmen that hasn't been properly introduced in the story yet, so I'm going to skip talking about them. I may or may not have finished designing all the side characters yet.

So for the basics. The Clockmen are an organization helmed by an elderly man who goes by the name Creator. The other 12 members of the Clockmen are individuals whose bodies Creator have replaced in their entireties with clockwork-powered mechanical bodies of his own designs.

Creator was initially hired by his contact in The Spire, a secretive individual who has as of yet not shown his face. The initial brief was vague, but called on creator to create "sentient weapons" for the spire. Creator needed the resources, but have planned to double-cross his benefactors from day one. Creator's health starting to fail him to the degree that he had to slow down the production of The Clockmen only further accentuated this need to outplay his nominal employers.

Creator is currently playing a dangerous game of deception to keep the fact that the degenerative disease he suffers from weaknes his dexterity to the point where he'll soon be unable to craft more Clockmen hidden both from his superiors in The Spire and his underlings. Creator knows his cushy position in The Spire is entirely dependent on being the only one who can build clockmen, so if he were to share his secrets or reveal that he'd eventually be unable to do it, his number was unlikely to be up.

One is, perhaps unsurprisingly, the first Clockman conversion. Owing to her prototypic nature, her design is more complex than many of the subsequent models. In addition to being able to transform her hands into deadly blades, she can also produce a wide array of sounds, ranging from simple mimicry of existing sounds to producing "anti-noise" that cancels out the sound her movements produce to all but the most perceptive listener. With her emphasis on stealth, One was designed to be an assassin. The relative autonomy that this position offered her was pivotal to One's loyalties shifting, and whatever plans she is currently plotting. I've written a bit more about One here.

One operated on her own for a while before Creator converted his next Clockman, Two. Two was meant to work as sort of sentient mobility aid for Creator, working as a sort of mechanized frame to help steady Creator's hands during the production of Clockmen. Unfortunately for both Creator and Two, the process of acclimating to these inhuman abilities drove Two into some mania or madness from which she has never truly recovered. To add to this, Creator's increasing paranoia over the loyalty of his creations made him discard the idea of using a Clockman to create more clockmen entirely, leaving Two behind with it. In the time of The Clockwork Boy, Two functions as a sort of lieutennant to creator, as he believes her frayed psyche makes her unlikely to betray him, even though her unnerving way of moving and uncanny perspectives makes her on occasion challenging to interface with.

Three and Four were next up. The twins were converted to clockmen at the same time in an attempt to shift the balance of power within the Clockmen. As a bit of a rush job, the two are light on special enchantments, although they are able to link their limbs together and launch each other through the air, which ties in with their natural agility and acrobatic ability. They are mentioned in passing in The Clockwork Boy, but we'll see more of these lads later.

After Three and Four, Creator refined his methods, among others switching the anesthetic substance used to one less likely to cause amnesia in his subjects. The four first Clockmen all reacted to their lack of memories differently. One considers the part of her that existed before the conversion and memory loss dead and gone, and seems more interested in avenging herself than recovering her memories. Two, for her part, believes that she can recall her memory through some ritual or other, although it is unlikely to work. Three and Four both express longing for their memories, but believes Creator will, in time, tell them about the people they used to be provided they remain loyal.

Clockman 6 is mentioned in passing by Adrian, and he's described as an intelligent man converted into a clockman body specialized to do crowd control. Similarly, 12 gets described as a dangerously aggressive Clockman with limited powers to generate dangerous arcs of electricity.

The last of the featured Clockmen is the massive 10, who has his own character profile here. 10 was made as a reminder to The Spire of the awesome power of the Clockmen, and as such the focus was on pure brute force. Creator specifically chose a man with a history of brutish violence to convert, believing his superior mind would be able to cow the massive beast. He has, so far, been successful.

I should also mention that 13/Adrian used to be a Clockman, as he was converted to be an anti-clockman weapon to guard Creator from any attempts at usurping his power. Unfortunately for Creator, and fortunately for The City, the thought of killing his fellow clockmen did not appeal to 13, and managed to escape with the help of One.

So that's the plot-relevant parts of The Clockmen in short. In the story, they function as both an antagonist and a challenge for 13, as their willingness to use violence, and their skill at doing the same challenge both Adrian's physical abilities and the strength of his conviction to not murder. I want to do a bit of a Steven Universe-adjacent thing with them, in that Adrian defeating them is secondary to "talking them down," as it were, but I'm still deciding how cynical my take on it is going to be. I am after all a big fan of idealism meeting cynicism and forming some sort of synthesis, although the precise mix can vary.

tag list @ettawritesnstudies @mrbexwrites @teacupsandstarlight @anonymousfoz

If you want to be put on the Tag List for this project, please interact with my Tag List Post

#writing #writeblr #hearts in clockwork #the clockwork boy #villain squad #I kind of hate myself for making them so numerous #but I guess that leaves a lot of room for the supporting cast #now if I could only stop myself from calling them Clockpunk Organization XIII #It's not quite the vibe I'm going for #but the words gremlin wants what the words gremlin wants I suppose

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a-flying-fortress · 28 days

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hey I was wondering if you knew this collab exists, but in final fantasy 14, you can basically fight Rathalos and get a Rathalos mount but i had to kick rathalos' scaly ass 25 times with a bunch of friends and still got no mount (see funny picture from my guild of someone with the mount)

my man rathalos doing his obnoxious duty. while i haven't started the questline, in monster hunter world, there are some ff quests one can do. you can also fight behemoth.

#words from a gremlin #monster hunter

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starlooove · 9 months

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Ik it’s not Damian’s personality bc y’all have never described Robin dick or Jason as needing to be put on a leash(unless ur alluding to Damian as well. Crazy right.), yall don’t call them “it” or animals, and y’all don’t act like random ppl on the street are five seconds away from putting them down. Like it’s literally just the racism and even mfs who talk about “feral tim” never put him on the same level as Damian

#I’m not even elaborating on this one if u get it u get it #white people need to word feral taken away from them #not for any racial reasons they’re just fucking annoying #that and gremlin #and trash or trash monster or anything like that #like please befr #actually nvm there are racial reasons behind feral stop calling blk and brown ppl feral thx

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tiredassmage · 1 year

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imbalance

‘Tyr can have a Moment. As a treat.’ Aka, I wrote an entirely different fic because I had a revelation about what would have been a banger line to include in something already written and now I need to fit it in somewhere sknsklfnsdf.

(One day this man might snap like a glowstick entirely, but until then, the very, very, very close call on Quesh. So close you could almost say I robbed him.)

Cipher Nine makes an unscheduled stop on Quesh searching for answers. He’s told more graceful lies, but when friends look like foes and foes may be friends, you take what you can get. Cautiously.

Rating: T // Canon-typical violence.

“Do not follow me.” Cipher Nine nearly growled the words without so much as a glance over his shoulder. “Stay with the ship. Kaliyo’s handling security. And keep an eye on Doctor Lokin. I still don’t trust him.”

“Agent-” Vector tried again with a frown. They’d been circling around this since Nine had initiated their docking run with Quesh’s orbital station.

“What part of my instructions were unclear?” Nine rounded on them with a fire burning in his pale eyes, accentuated by the sharp draw of his brow, parallelled lines of the grim frown set across his lips.

Something twitched down Vector’s spine, but he refrained from flinching. Nine had been irritable since Taris. Maybe Kaliyo didn’t notice, or didn’t care to notice, but he was also restless. The younglings worried.

They reported increased pacing. Trouble focusing. Uncharacteristic.

They doubted Djannis was completely oblivious and, despite her gruff attitude, a part of them still dared to believe she wasn’t completely careless, but Nine had always been efficient in deflecting her barbed jabs.

“We are not looking for trouble, agent,” Vector said carefully. Their eyes narrowed slightly as they watched him. They wondered if he agreed. They did not mistrust his judgement, but Nine played by the rules of engagement just as much as he edged their boundaries. Their presence here on Quesh seemed to be further into the latter than they were accustomed to.

Intelligence had not directly authorized their presence here and Nine had not extensively discussed their reasons before landing. They had simply set course and had been told to stay out of trouble.

Nine held his gaze for a long moment in silence before he sighed. The mask flickered. One hand reached up to his temple. An increasingly common tic as of late. “There’s always trouble, Vector.”

The Joiner’s frown deepened. “Which is why we ask again to accompany you,” he said. “It isn’t safe.”

Nine shook his head. “No, Vector. This is one thing I must do alone.”

Stubborn. Vector inhaled deeply to exhale slowly. “Very well, agent,” they relented. “Just… take care of yourself. We will await your return.”

He could not shake the worry twining through him as he watched Nine disembark. Idly, they entertained a youngling that appeared from beneath his sleeve.

They hoped they were wrong to worry, no matter that he had found he would, regardless of assurances. Even in their relatively shorter time together, they had made more enemies than Vector could count - some far more nebulous and undefined than others.

As of the moment, some of them could have even looked like friends. Human betrayal was such a delicate, devious mess.

x-x-x-x-x-

Quesh wasn’t going to be making any vacationing lists anytime soon and that was well without the spat between the Empire and the Republic over whatever toxic fad currently had the galaxy’s throat.

Routine, surprise inspection. Tyr’s eyes narrowed slightly as his head dropped a hair further, avoiding direct eye contact with any Imperial personnel in the area. Cipher status cleared his landing, but, much like Hutta, he doubted the veil would hold up well under an even half-decent inspection. It’d make the cover up more difficult, at the very least. The less people that knew he was here or “why,” the better.

This was a gamble. It tasted as vile as the stinging air against his eyes. A hand in his pocket held fast to the list of increasingly revolting chemicals. Something itched, tweaked at the back of his mind, or maybe the front, or perhaps it slithered down his spine, twining between the muscle and bone, draining slow like a poison.

Maybe it did all of this.

He struggled to trap the urge to grind his teeth together. If only it was as easy to trap a thought as it was to pin a traitor beneath the heel of his boot.

The cursed blessing of a Cipher had always been the ability to skim through the waters of Imperial life as a ghost - enough authority in squared shoulders and a determined, steady stride to warn anyone within range of the vibroknife doubtlessly concealed somewhere on his person and the silent threat that there wouldn’t be enough people left to ask questions - meaningful ones, at any rate, yet with enough anonymity that most didn’t think to question another face in the crowd.

The facility wasn’t far. The lack of outer security should have been disturbing - or was it lucky, perhaps? Nine’s eyes scanned the stark walls silently as he moved forward. With something this close to the guarded chest of Intelligence, physical guards weren’t his concern.

His eyes closed a moment as he hitched in stride. He could have come up with a better lie about his presence here. Reported inspection might circle back to Intelligence.

Gears grinding, halting, catching, that drain of poison dripping down the back of his neck and lacing his blood again.

Would you tell a soul even if they hadn’t lodged it in your throat? Would you trust them?

He exhaled through his nose. He could lie again. Improvisation. Basic rule of operations.

“Administrator Kroius.” The sharpness carried nicely in this hollowed hell of a place. Nine affixed an almost too-pleasant smile as he settled with a threatening patience into parade rest and pinned the scientist in his sights. “You were told to expect me.”

“Yes, yes, the intelligence operative.” Scan the room. A glitch in the system. Interference on the holo display. Nine’s eyes surveyed quickly as the Anomid gruffly joined him, carelessly sidestepping bodies and leaving a droid behind at the counter. “You’d think for all we’ve done for you people, you could at least afford a courtesy warning.”

Nine’s eyes locked back on target. “Am I inconveniencing you, Administrator?” Fingertips played against his gloved palm.

Eyes widened. Nine’s smile twitched slightly further across his lips. “N-no, no, of course not,” Kroius stammered.

“Then you have the compounds I’ve requested?” Nine produced the list from his pocket - just in case the reminder was necessary.

“Shortly, shortly!” Kroius snapped his fingers at the astromech. “Oh-seven, fetch! Now!” Clawed hands steepled. “I’m sure you’ll find everything satisfactory, agent. We’ve long shared a mutually beneficial relationship with Intelligence.” His eyes were anywhere but the operative.

“You’re holding out on me, Administrator.” Nine’s voice dropped lower with the threatening hiss of a viper. “Spit. It. Out.”

“It’s just… the Dimalium Six,” Kroius said. One clawed hand toyed along the edges of his vocoder. “We’re… out. The Republic confiscated that particular chemical mine some time ago and their security is-”

“Not a problem,” Nine said. “Tell me what you know - everything. Maps of the area, what kind of security?”

The Anomid huffed. “You’ve seen their forces? Snipers? Battle drones?” The agent's gaze didn’t waver, so Kroius huffed again. “Of course, why would it matter to me?” He shook his head. If he’d been capable, Tyr imagined he might be rolling his eyes.

The Administrator prattled for a time - some half-caught comment about appreciation that would have made a Sith eager to crush throats. An itch. An insatiable one. The hum and weight of a vibroblade twirled in his hand, balance shifting over the wrist, or the heated barrel of a blaster, humming from the inescapable march of a plasma bolt.

The chemical supplier. He was involved. He deserves the punishment. A snarl twitched delightedly at the edge of his control.

“Operative?” Kroius cocked his head.

Nine blinked and inhaled, held the breath for a moment. He hadn’t moved and his fingers had stilled their warning song against his palm. A Cipher was never unarmed.

Scan the room again. No surveillance. Just a whisper of his passing. Spilled chemicals and a single blaster shot. No evidence. No loose ends.

The truth of those files in the low light of blacked out Intelligence Headquarters was burned against his eyes. Castellan Restraints. Considered and approved for limited use. Thought irreversible. Thirty days to six months.

Codeword-

It was a simple matter to draw the pistol, in his hand before he’d even blinked, pulled and pressed against the sick bastard’s head squarely between the eyes. The droid beeped and whirred something in alarm, but Tyr’s eyes were glaring down that barrel.

“Agent, I-”

“How many?!” This wasn’t where he was going to get answers. Inopportune location. Inappropriate subject with presumably limited knowledge.

His eyes narrowed and he nearly scoffed. Presumed. As if he’d make that mistake.

He doubled down on the stance, stepping closer as the administrator shrank back from the pressure.

“Answer me, you scum,” he growled. He pressed harder on the blaster. It’d be satisfying if it left an imprint. Evidence that could be burned away in the explosion, if necessary. They’d struggle to find a corpse. “How. Many? How many operatives?!”

“Agent, I don’t understand-”

“Liar!” He hugged the trigger tighter. It’d be so easy. His breath baited in his lungs like a pack of jackals singing to the death throes of fallen prey. “You deal in these chemicals, Administrator, and I’ll be damned if you don’t know a whiff about their uses!”

“Hallucinogenics, loss or alterations of memory, I-” the Administrator stuttered under his blaster. “It’s all well within Intelligence’s demands, I swear!”

Intelligence. All of the air left his lungs in one go. His grip slacked around the blaster and the pressure eased. Tyr looked farther than the end of the barrel and slowly backed off, drawing Nine’s sights off a potential target.

Maybe a justifiable one.

He closed his eyes tightly again and one hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

It was a shot that’d burn fine the whole way down, maybe even ride like a high for a couple hours before inescapable reality wormed its way back in: he was playing with fire with a half-baked plan more akin to a wild acolyte’s prayer to a half-rotted echo of a once powerful Dark Lord than a bloody strategy.

Witnesses or no, there would be questions. What was he doing on Quesh in the first place? What was his involvement? Was there any correlation between the deep cover Cipher operative appearing to a highly secretive Intelligence ally and a massive explosion of unstable chemical compounds?

Fuck. When was the last time he’d slept?

“Who-?!” Administrator Kroius flapped his arms, apparently having relocated his misplaced indignation. “Who do you think you are coming in here like this?! ‘Routine’ inspection? Why, I never-”

“You will not speak a word about this. To anyone.” Nine fixed a withering glare on the scientist. “You wouldn’t want me to make another unscheduled, unannounced visit, would you, Administrator Kroius?”

Kroius took a hesitant step back as the Cipher rounded on him, squared him up in his sights again.

Nine’s eyes narrowed. “Good man.” And an exhausting act. Nine holstered his blaster. “Now, as for the Dimalium Six.”

“You’re a crazy one,” Kroius muttered. “You’re still going after that?”

“And you won’t lay hands on it again, understood?”

“What?”

“Not another drop - not for Imperial Intelligence, not to anyone, not from you.” Kroius raised one clawed hand, but remained silent in Nine’s penetrating stare. “Don’t worry about them. Remember what I am, Administrator.” He stalked languidly towards his prey, letting a step or two drag for emphasis.

Kroius had the good sense to stay put. A hound was usually given to the thrill of a chase.

“I… didn’t catch your moniker, operative.”

“Cipher.” Nine turned without so much as a dismissive glance to the astromech and collected the rest of what he’d come for. “That’s all you need to know, Administrator. Try not to let it keep you up at night. Bad for health, I understand.”

“O-of course, Cipher. I-”

Nine’s narrowed eyes pierced him over his shoulder as he stuttered.

“It’s not really my decision to make, Cipher, but-!” He raised a clawed hand to stave off the fiery spark ready to ignite in the agent’s eyes again. “I assure you, I will do everything in my power to comply.”

“See that you do.”

Cipher Nine left with his head held high even as it ached sickeningly, twisting a poisoned blade in his heart.

One shot could have ended all of this.

Coward.

How many more agents were going to pay the price because he hadn’t pulled the damn trigger?

You've changed nothing. The cost of maintaining cover, biting back the bile that rose in his throat - a good agent even when no direct command had been inescapably issued to worm its way through him, to hollow out whatever remained that wasn't utterly Cipher Nine. Pride of Imperial Intelligence.

Right. Pride. As if it wasn't the root of this whole damn cancerous mess.

Nine shook his head in a vain and fruitless attempt to clear it. There was still the chemical mines, a job to finish. It may yet be enough - however temporary - to cut the beast at the source.

#swtor #imperial agent #swtor fanfic #ch: tyr #vector's full-time job is trying to keep tyr from snapping tbh #he's great at it when he lets vector actually do it askfnldksfnld #i have half an urge to keep picking at this but i already squinted at it in a daze at like 6:30 this morning so if i don't #give it up now it may gather dust in google docs and i refuse to let that gremlin win lol #dot words

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spacecores · 3 months

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Is it insane to really really want to figure out what department handles the application software and try and get in there to fix it or nah

bc like,,, trying to type in a space where an apostrophe is an invalid character is both extremely difficult and fucking bonkers annoying

Anyway everyone prayer circle I get to have the desk job bc ya bitch is fucking exhausted from doing basic labor. Truly how the mighty (me who previously worked warehouse jobs for like 8-14 hrs a day) have fallen (15 hours a week over 3 days makes me feel like death)

#allie.txt #the semi-colon being invalid fine shit is stupid on applications #the APOSTROPHE???? HELLO?? fuck me right in the ass dry why don’t you #miserable application experience even if i don’t get this job i’m having words #scratch that tomorrow when i go in i’m complaining lmfao #sorry ‘informing’#also the demographics only have male and female options which is fucking bunkum #If u have gotten this far in my tags enjoy my confusion on how to explain using ms word and internet navigation happens #like they aren’t second nature to me computer gremlin from the 90s #Did get to throw in that i know how to use boolean search which was fun

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halfapersob · 1 year

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hello. You stumbled here

This blog is mostly hermitcraft snd friend things. I do art sometimes. I do take requests :D

You can call me ghost or persob

me and @/totallynotagremlin are writing a fantasy mumscarian au, it's under the dr pepper tag.

And a ghost au. Mumbo is dead and scar is alone now. But strange things keep happening around the house...

And finally, my chukd of a fic, inkycaps. It's a fae au. Grians life is finally at a point where he's happy snd content but then everything changes, and there's no going back.

Links here:

[Dr pepper]

[Ghost au]

[Inkycaps]

I also do art, from whatever Fandom I'm in at the moment. It's all under my art tag if you'd like to check it out.

If anyone has questions or thoughts you can come bug either of us with the ask button 🐛 🪲 🐞

I made an only art account recently (this month, Feb 2024) and thats where I think I'm going to start posting my art from now on. It's @notapersob.

This is mainly because if I want to sell my art, like prints and have my accounts connected, I don't want people I've met irl to find my silly people blog. This is for me and my friends.

:)))))

#my art stuuf #mutuals #asks:))#i made this because i need organisatjon. this is mostly for myself #midnight info thingss #save #writing words #dr pepper #hell followed with us #cool kid srt #hermitshipping #my kids (the oc's)#rambles #funky project #gremlin rambles from persons phone #ghost au #inkycaps #stars

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