#mental calculations put this in arc 3 or 4

[infinitydusktilldawn]

Very little with so much [excerpt; to be changed] (minor swearing)

"I am right! You were wrong!"

She affectionally rolled her eyes, and hand out the thinnest file to Kim. "A particular chemical found at the site of our father's accident. It's not Cryo-gel, but it is similar." she sat down, reluctantly letting go of the file. The rest of the children also sat down around them.

Bryce was the first to speak up, "What's a guardian?"

Jacob thought back to the video that had been shared, in confidence by Kate the day before. ‘I'm tired of asking for help and being abandoned because of it.’ Even Kate refused to explain about that, which then he understood the damage Bryce had done by cornering her.

Shadow, lifted her leg onto the chair, allowing herself to prop her head up, as a sadness overwhelmed her. "Have to ask the hard questions first, don't you?"

This was a different person they realized, the caution to take a chance, but also the child-like naivety that does not match her age of 21, but of one much younger.

"Kate said that it's hard to say how long you've been awake for." Jacob began, "What did she mean by that?"

"The MDA, my home, is on a 48-hour cycle instead of 24."

"So everyday there, is two days here."

Shadow only nodded. "How long has it been for you, Kate? When I last saw you?"

Kate swallowed, "Seven years, give or take a few months."

Eyes widen, realizing what the true cause of the oldest sister's demeanor. 

‘There was an event, where I butchered any trust with Shadow. It almost broke our relationship. For me it was almost 2 years ago where I gained it back, where she forgave me, but I have to remember, that time for her was practically a few months.’ 

Jacob remembered Kate explaining why she wouldn't reach out on her own or move past from what Shadow prefers. He thought that she just took trust seriously, that the moment someone loses it, it'll take years for that to be gained back. Now, that he starts to have some background on Shadow, how old is his youngest sibling. "How long has it been for you?"

Kate gave him a shallow nod.

He didn't realize he's been looking to her for guidance, turning back to Shadow, she's in her head. Thinking, probably, how much is a good idea to reveal. 

‘I just wanted support; someone I could turn to that wasn't involved!’

"Three, three and a half years? Between all the differences it's hard to be concrete how much time had passed."

Rick released a breath, "How old were you? When it all started?"

"14." she stated after a beat.

"You're not 21, you're barely 17."

"Does that matter?"

"Yes!" Jacob shouted. "You are too young to be in a war, you're not even an adult!"

"What's done is done." Shadow sighed, not even bothering to observe the others. "Can't change anything, even if I tried."

Jacob's fists clenched at his side, trying to reign in the rage. "No, no. You have us, you won't be fighting anymore, we'll take over."

"Absolutely not." 

"You're not an adult!"

Shadow stood instantly, matching Jacob's anger with her own. "And what constitutes as an adult!?" she seethed, tired of the entire ideology that she wasn't old enough to make drastic decisions. "Age doesn't equal experience! If it did Bryce would be the child and you would be the adult! If age would be the requirement to take into account on who stays as leader in my war, it would've ended before it even had the chance to start!"

"What's that…?" Dean whispered, eyeing a blanket of black hovering off her skin.

"Back off that ideology, if you know what's good for you." she sneered, voice dropping as something overlaid her own. "Bluebird."

Kate straightened with the others, "Shadow," she called, noticing the slight black tinge in her own sclera. "Shadow!"

Shadow whipped to her, "What Kate?"

"Breathe." then pointed to her own eye.

Shadow took a deep breath, and released it slowly, sitting down in the process. Dean watched, apprehensive, as the layer of darkness disappeared. "What was that?"

"Nothing." both sisters stated, ending that topic.

"You're correct, it's not cryo-gel. It's not in any database." Bryce called, ending the tense stand-off after the conflict between the siblings.

"Chief is calling in some contacts at the other locations that presented as similar accidents to check their archives for a similar chemical."

"Chief Pitren?" Kim asked, already pulling up information on the man. "Chief Alexander Pitren, 10 years in the police force, and had conducted several successful sting operations. What did he do that he's got your trust?"

"Covered me when the two assholes put a bounty on my head."

"A bounty? Why?"

"I was trying to escape them."

Rick sighed, the others looking confused. "It would be easier if you told us what this is all about."

"Even I'm still lost." Osiris's voice escaped from the computer, "I haven't found anything…anywhere."

"Shadow, come on, they'd help." Kate tried.

"Or just get in the way."

"Jacob is going with anyway, at least for a short time. He'd find out anyway."

"And it'll be his decision to even tell that story." Shadow shifted. "I said I'd consider telling them if they were who you thought they were."

"And I'm right, so tell them."

"Still considering."

"Why?" Bryce asked. "We have the resources to help."

"Who said I wanted help?" she shot back, "As Jacob so elegantly shouted, I'm nothing but a child. How can I trust you take my decisions seriously when you couldn't even trust my word on the status of your identity? 

“I gave you opportunity after opportunity to ignore that I had any inkling of who you possibly could be. Secrets I take to my grave, of which you would have found out eventually if you'd just be patient instead of jumping the gun, because you are too fucking paranoid of not being in control of everything." 

Her eyes kept to Bryce's, who she could tell did not like that little spiel. "I don't blame you in being cautious when we first met, I would've done the same. The difference between you and me? I always give the benefit of doubt, that little ideology of everyone is innocent until proven guilty is what I live by with first meetings. Jumping the gun, because you felt threatened that I'd spill some secret that had nothing to do with me, when it was so obvious, I had secrets as well, should've showed that there was a bigger picture than what could initially be seen."

Clapping sounded behind them, Talon standing at the table with a tray of drinks in hand. "I've heard rumors of a young Guardian whose goal is to protect and avenge while trying to remain inconspicuous and off everyone's radar. A get in and get out mentality with as little damage as possible. It is good to meet you."

"I feel like I'm missing something." she whispered in response.

"Antione McGurdy had been a wonderful friend, he had explained some things about the pride he had in the young Guardian before he'd been killed in combat. Although, I have yet to get an actual report on who or what had killed him."

"McGurdy?"

Kate slammed a hand on the table, "Gurdy Goo!" still catching her sister's confused look, "The older guy who explained the alliance with Rus--Project Bio Storm!"

"That does not narrow it down."

"The guy that pulled you aside when Goran and Raine tried to reinstate the treaty."

"Oh, fuck." Shadow crossed her arms putting her head down on them. "He ripped the two apart, lectured them about proper behavior while telling me how well I did in deflecting during that meeting." her shoulders shook, "The first adult I finally vented to, he's the one that took me to Chief."

"Miss Guardian?"

Shadow picked her head up, which felt like a ten-pound brick, tears slipped down her cheeks. "He had been a victim of Project Paradise Bravo." she sucked in a breath, "The people who explained Bio Storm to me were punished for revealing that to a "civilian" and were part of that event."

"Did he suffer?" the butler asked.

"I--I don't know." the screams of those beasts ricochet in her head, it's not something she can forget. "He--no one were themselves in the end."

"Is he at peace?"

"Everyone who deserves it, is at peace." she whispered, the fight and lecture from earlier drained her, but they weren't done.

"That's all I ask, Guardian of Light."

Shadow whipped to him, not many people know of that title, she smiled, giving him a nod.

"What's the Guardian of Light?" Bryce asked, more towards Talon than a mourning Shadow.

"Perhaps I should explain what I know, then Shadow can explain in more detail, if she chooses to."

"I'm alright with that."

Shadow nodded, "Fine, sure." pulling out her phone.

"The grand Guardian of Light is rumored to be a goddess." Talon began as if showcasing a production of a grand scale. "She is an interdimensional or intergalactic traveler that has the Space-Time Continuum flowing through her veins. A practitioner of magic, her primary job is to protect the balance. Her enemy is the Dark Guardian, who travels through space to find the ultimate power source. Antoine had explained that he is a madman, but while the Guardian of Light was chosen, the Dark Guardian is a bloodline title. He mentioned that there was something special about her, perhaps it was her force to do good. A particular warrior who protects her own, and is willing to what was it…"

"Kill the cause to save the effect." Jacob whispered. 

‘You wouldn't understand that!’

Shadow glowered at Kate, who falsified whistling. There will be words later.

"Yes." Talon nodded, then began to pass out tea, a soft smile given between Shadow and Jacob. "It is because of that; many only see her as a part of the problem. That ability to bring back life if she chose to and take life just as easily. It is a legend, but just as we all know, legends have truth to them."

"So, there is a current war between both of these Guardians?" Bryce turned to look at Shadow, eyes narrowing. "Why hide this from the agency, or at all?"

Talon shook his head, "I believe it's because many who've become a part of the fight, are unaware of the true danger. Antoine had stated, "The war the Guardian leads in not for the faint of heart, those days are never-ending and long lasting. A single confrontation can be mere minutes before you realize it’s been months. It's not the war we've been through, it's a taxing of the spirit, and for that, I wouldn't wish that punishment on my worst enemy." The Guardian of Light has to draw a line between acting and ignoring, and not even the humblest of heroes can’t ignore a cry for help for the greater good."

"Why would anyone ignore a cry for help? How can a warrior of good ignore someone else?" Bryce asked, confused.

"It's a timeline thing, isn't it?" Kim looked to her.

Shadow tilted her head, "You have traveled through time and differential realities." a glow coming from her eyes.

Dean leapt back, "There's a darkness around you. What are you?"

She focused her attention back to him, the glow calming down, "Light refracts, and at the right angle can give an insight on what could be, and the dark helps stabilize the image from being too blinding. Giving details that can change what is seen, little details that can diverge the future from each individuals' actions and choices. Not many can see beyond that." she put the cup down, "You have been gifted the sight of both light and dark, the energy of non-connection, the pure basis of all magic. Due to this gift, you can see the aura that each person gives off, the more that can be seen the more danger they are."

Dean stared, as the glimmer grows and softens, the dark that normally would be center, surrounded her, as if giving him the attention to detail that she speaks off. It's not one color, but three. "Blue, pink, and purple?"

"Without the dark, you'd only be blinded." she easily releases some hold on the energy, "Your gift isn't full proof. Anyone else who is aware of the light and dark that they give off, can hide it." Then picked up the cup again, the energy she's aware of now being tapered off into the ultra-violet spectrum. Dean slowly sat back down. "Can--Can you help me? Understand these abilities."

"I don't know."

"You reveal that you know what abilities he has then just back off?!" Kim snapped, not the only one caught off guard by the change in attention. "Why provide hope for someone you're not going to support?!"

"Why would I help someone who could just become another victim?" she asked back.

Kim, and the others, seemed to settle, thinking about the question.

"They'd be killed in the war." Danielle stated, "If the enemy becomes aware of another, of similar or equal power, who won't join them or fight back, they'd be killed."

"Correct." she sighed, "My choosing of who gets involved is not just for shits and giggles, nor for dramatic effect. I've never once asked for someone to stay, they've stayed on their own, and I have never forced someone to abandon their life to serve me. The people who stay are those that are willing to put their entire existence on the line, to end this madman. The people I choose to not get involved with is because they are potential victims for just knowing me. He will kill them to get to me, and someone of Dean's abilities, just another higher priority target."

"So. you have to choose, if it's even worth it."

"Dean's abilities, are nothing compared to what he can do, not even close to what I can do. He isn't a threat, to either of us, but he can still be killed because it's too similar to a Guardian. People get killed for just knowing me."

"It's why no-one can get any information on her." Kate explained. "The Dark Guardian will no longer attack here, because he believes she has no more existence here. The best way to remain anonymously, is be known as no-one."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why you've been avoiding me." Dean stated.

"Magic, is complex, and each world out there has its own strand of how it works. Along with that, each one has its own flavor, some flavors work when mixed together and others don't. Your abilities are just different enough, that the Dark Guardian can taste the difference when there's another confrontation. He will come here, and he will kill you. Nothing can stop him."

"Except you, right?"

"According to prophecies, yes, currently no. I'm still not strong enough to even make dent against him. The only thing I can do is banish him temporarily."

"You said, I'm too close to being a Guardian, what does that mean?" "What is a Guardian?" Bryce tried again.

"Unofficially? A title, given to me in passing by those who truly know what's at stake. Officially, we don't know."

"Are you saying a Guardian is a species?" Osiris sounded flabbergasted. "How does that work?"

"From what we've been able to figure out…which isn't much, yes and no."

"I need to hear this."

"Guardians protect gods, those gods lead to the Grand Creator of the multi-verse. If one were to find the Grand Creator, and absorbed that pure energy, they world become the new creator, and essentially end every life in the current multi-verse for a fresh clean start."

Mouths dropped, and eyes widened at the implications.

"Your war is a literal fight to preserve life?" the choked gasp came from the speakers.

"Yes." she finally stated. "Sounds like a fantasy, doesn't it? Sounds like lies, like a want attention, like I seek out pity." she sighed again, trying to clear her throat. "All I want is to stop fighting, to relax and not figure out if the next person is gonna try to kill me or not. I'm tired, and there are days where I just want to give up, but I can't."

"Why, why you?" Jacob asked, giving in, pulling Shadow into his arms. He may have just met her, but he understood that willpower she's giving everything to keep fighting. He only tightened his arms around her when he felt her grip on his shirt.

"How can we help?" Bryce stood, wanting to go support her, to assure her. Shadow relaxed, "You can't."

"No, we will, just tell us what we need to do."

"You can't!" she pushed away from Jacob, slamming her hands onto the table.

‘I just wanted support from someone not involved!’

Jacob sighed, "Then we won't."

‘Shadow hates it when others get involved. The team she has, have dropped their personal lives for her, she won't ask that of you. We've agreed that she doesn't need support, she wants safety. Some place to be able to call home again. Except everyone she's tried to be for that, has either abandoned her, be a part of this fight, or used her when they've found the extent of who she is.’

#original work #long post #this is all concept still #like i have the basic plot in my head #but it's all the minor details #yes I've been writing the plot down #mental calculations put this in arc 3 or 4 #it's right before shadow (main character) eliminates contacts with her original home #kate (sister of mc) finds potential brother (bluebird) within secret agency #bluebird will become an empty character for fandoms to insert their h/c #along with a bill/conference/law that keeps the gov distracted for a mission #dialogue punctuation needs work #minor swearing #someone is gonna figure out the fandom characters borrowed #and deeply question what I was doing #feel free to ask questions #i do amateur art for this #concepts on alien plants and creatures #shadow is not her birth name #a lot of angst happened for her to gain that name #will be posting fictional lullaby and lecture #each one is missing a few things #particularly the lecture part #so much information in that #do not repost #please

[isalisewrites]

A ramble on writing for my mental health

At the end of 2023, I calculated how long it would take me to finally get through the slow burn to the first kiss between Tom and Harry in Terrible, But Great.

At the rate I'd been posting at, I discovered that it would take an approximate of 3 to 4 years to get to the first kiss.

When I tell you that I lost it, I mean that I lost my motherfucking mind. 3 to 4 GODDAMN FUCKING YEARS to get to the FIRST KISS???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I ranted. I screamed. I raged. Unacceptable. Absolutely not. Fuck no. I refuse. Friends would say, "No, it's okay. We can wait. Take care of yourself. Mental health. Important. Blah blah blah."

NO. I love you.

NO!

I don't want to wait that long. I, ME, the author, do not want to wait three to four years to share one of my favorite chapters of all time. I don't want to wait. My soul wept at such an idea. Because there's so much more to come after the first kiss. How long would it take me to finish what I'd started? Life is fleeting. Life is fragile. I know this all too well when my mother died far too young in my arms. I'm not saying something will happen to me, but this story is so important to me.

And so

A determination like no other came over me.

I made an immovable, unshakable goal. I needed to write every single day, before everything else in my life. It had to be first. I wake up; I write. I've gained so much good by going to college, but I've also lost so much when it came to writing. I needed this. I needed to write - before the duties, the homework, the chores, before EVERYTHING because I needed it.

I decided that 700 words a day was a reasonable goal for me. I could do it. I could reach that. If I wrote 700 words a day, it'd be an average of 21,000 words per month with a total of 255,500 words for all of 2024.

Not only would I reach the first kiss, not only would I finish Arc Two, I would also finish Arc Three, which contains the climatic purpose of the whole story.

On that day, when I never really made New Year's Resolutions in the past, I set this daily goal of 700 words per day.

It's now the end of January. Did I accomplish this goal?

Yes.

-

This is a screenshot of my daily word count in January.

50,461 words.

Not only did I reach the goal, I surpassed it. There's 35,000 words more in Arc Two than there was at the beginning of January. There's 15,000 words more in Arc Three, Arc Four, and Arc Five collectively.

I discovered so much about the story in Terrible, But Great. I learned so much more about the characters. One day, if you're a reader of the story, you'll learn about it, too. I promise.

I learned there was an Arc Five, when I'd barely thought about a fully realized Arc Four. I learned about the final chapter, about the final lines.

I cried that day.

Life is still hard; it's still stressful. But you know? The depression that would settle over me by this point in the semester hasn't come. I'm so much happier than I've been for a long time. Putting what gives me the most joy in life has been the best thing I've ever done.

Yes, there are still some hard days. Yes, some days, it's harder to write. But as I look back on every day, I am so happy that I still choose my writing and story first.

Until next month.

#mywriting #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #nanowrimo #unofficial nanowrimo #writing #tomarry #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #tom riddle #fanfiction #fanfic #2024 writing goal update #terrible but great #writer #2024 writing goals #isa's ramblings #isa's writing

[fantasma-de-la-cueva]

Guys, I know I had been posting a lot of IE stuff (bc I’m out of noragami stuff and I’m obsesed with magic soccer), but you know what? I’m still going to say this headcanon bc I started to write a fic:

I love to compare Gouenji (specially the Fifth Sector fase) with snakes. Why? Here are some reasons:

1) When he wants to be sneaky and hide or dissapear he just does and is hard to see him unless he wants to be seen (or caught off guard at certain points).

2) Despite what honosuto introducted (no hate, I will always love honosuto fiery boi) he is calm and collected, making me remind that in the chinese zodiac snakes are associated with calm, cold and calculating people. Also, snakes tend to be associated with cunning personalities and Gouenji, specially during the Go 1, had showed this with his hole plan of destroying Fifth from the inside (not only by starting the revolution, but with the ways he used to fuel it more and more, aka: investigating everything he could in the front row while keeping Daigo away from controlling soccer, confirming that Endo was, “indeed”, the person sent by Fifth to be Raimon’s coach, letting Tsurugi to play free soccer after sending him knowing that he would turn at some point, funding educational programs and managing to move a massive amount money behind Daigo’s back, offering stealthy mentorship to Raimon by allowing them to get stronger, putting the team against Teikoku to allow Endo and Kidou reunite and clean Teikoku from Fifth’s influence, therefore allowing the Revolution to have a safe space and all the mental gymnastics, lies, speeches and deceptions he was pulling over everyone inside the organization and Daigo himself to prevent them from investigating what was really happening).

3) Snakes are often represented as malicious in some cultures and stories, in others they are wise creatures that can act as mentors or helpers. Gouenji enters in the “helper” snake category. As a kid he helped the other players to resolve their problems; as adult he pressed on Raimon to make them stronger and resilent, taught Tsurugi the fire tornado and in anime taught Kurosaki the fire storm, raised multiple programs to teach kids to play soccer and prevent the collapse of Japan’s educational system, assisted Raimon during CS and thanks to him Earth could participate in the Grand Celesta Galaxy tournament.

4) Is said that snakes hold the poison and its antidote, that’s why they are related to medicine. Gouenji, during Fifth’s arc hold the poison that was corrupted soccer and had the antidote that was starting the revolution and prevent the collapse of educational system.

5) Snakes are often depicted as symbols of protection, we know how fierce protective Gouenji is, specially when is about people suffering in front of him, the people that matters to him the most and the sport he deeply loves.

6) Snakes are hated by a lot of people and tend to be reducted as nothing but a “dangerous” creatures and sometimes are seen as “evil” in a lot of stories and tales. During Go 1 Gouenji/Ishido is depicted as an intimidating, cruel man that feels pleasure in inflicting pain and terror on everyone and enjoys playing with the victims of his schemes, but the truth is that he is pretty tame compared to his coworkers, subordinates and boss (but we don’t forget how awful it was Tsurugi arrival to Raimon or ordering getting Tenma injuried). He uses the cold and ruthless mask because he has to in order to survive and make his plans work (and is shown that is painful for him to do so), but overall he isn’t as cruel as other characters tend to see him as he doesn’t want to destroy schools that dare to stand against Fifth Sector, he doesn’t like when people gets hurt because of soccer, he doesn’t show any resentment towards the idea of getting dethrowned, he enjoys to watch Raimon struggling in matches because he knows that those moments are what make the team stronge and he made his best to allow his team enjoy real soccer. The thing that makes him look “evil” is that due to his seriousness and determination to save soccer and keep control over Fifth he had resigned to play the bad guy and allowed the organization and its members to commit any crime they could. We know as viewers that is painful for him to be in that position and the characters close to him had shown concern and worriness about his well being because they know and understand his reasons to be like that, but the characters that don’t know are the ones that often trash-talk about how he is evil and doing everything he does for the sake of ambition and talk so much about how they want to make him pay, with very valid reasons. But while for the kids is normal and resonable that they wouldn’t question the adult characters didn’t cared to question or go deeper, thinking that he truly went evil until Endo appeared and investigated why his friend had, aparently, went nuts.

7) Discretion and the way snakes slither to move are often relationated concepts, so, why not?

#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven go #gouenji shuuya #and why the chara’s animal spirit is a snake #but is only a HC #written at 3 am xD

[heliosthegriffin]

Gamer AU Clip II

“J-Ja-Jaune?” Hearing my sisters voice tremble, it hurt, it hurt so bad. Taking a bullet had hurt less. The fact I was the cause of her distress burned my soul.

“How, how, how, how, could you do that?” Her voice so weak like her throat refused to cooperate with her brain, like she couldn’t understand what she was seeing. She shouldn’t have to see me doing what I do to keep our shrinking family together, but she did... and there was no backing down from what I had done.

“Sarah, I need you do something for me,” My voice came out calm, I didn’t think I was capable of speaking so, so, what’s a good word for it?

Lifeless.

Like my throat was being puppeteered by some unseen force.

But, that unseen force was also me. I was a puppet to my own desires. My master was my own crippling need for love, love and family.

She flinched, it was unsurprising but it drove that stake of burning pain so much deeper.

“Take one deep breath, hold it for five second and then let it out over another. Would you please do this for me?”

She froze briefly, her eyes darting around for escape, I could see her chest rapidly contracting. She wasn’t listening.

The look in her eyes told me all I needed to know.

She thought I was a monster now... She know’s I am a monster.

She’s right.

A part of my heart disappeared, and my mind acted before my heart did.

“Sarah,” My voice was being puppeteered again, It was so cold, and hard to my own ears, it shouldn’t sound like that. It scared me. “Take a deep breath or you’ll fall down like Mr. Ermine did.”

“B-bu, but you killed him!”

I shook my head with a mournful frown.

“No! He fell down, he was coming at me! And then he tripped, honest!” My mind puppeteering my face, the slightest tears began to form at my eyes. “I didn’t mean to have the knife out, honest! You gotta believe me, sis, please!” It was all an act by the that dark little voice in my head, I could take back the wheel at anytime... But, I wasn’t the one who could lie to my family.

“But Mr. Ermine, he just wanted to help us, why would he try to act you.”

The dark voice in my head could only smile in glee, he had hooks in her mind. “He, he,” It made me tear up even more so to sell the story. “He knew about mom and dad, he wanted something to keep silent...” My sister didn’t seem like she could believe me, not with the blood on my hands.

Good, it made the part of me not behind the wheel smile that my sister could see through my facade. The dark voice only smiled deeper though, it spoke to me, told me the story had only just begun.

“Sniff, sniff,” It made me fake holding back tears, “He wanted to hurt you, and, and I wanted him to leave us alone!” I screamed out, it’s fine I want to be heard, we’re alone at home anyway.

“He said, ‘I always wanted to have my own blonde dolls, to play, and dress up.’ unngh,” I fell to my knees, letting tears fall from my eyes. “I told him to leave us alone, and he came over to grab me.” I looked Sarah in the eyes, I could see her tears beginning to spill. “His hands, they, they hurt so much Sarah, why would bring him here!” I covered my head with head arms, and the breakdown came.

My eyes stung with burning tears. Not a damn one real.

“Stop, stop, please just stop, Jaune, I’m sorry Jaune, I’m so sorry.” I felt my sisters arm around me and pull me into a warm hug. And I let myself breakdown in her arms.

A breath of relief came through the tears, and eventually the tears stopped.

Relief that my story sold and stuck. That I had lied and gaslit my sister. I wanted to puke from shame.

I took back control and put that little voice back in the passenger seat in case I needed him.

I squeezed my sister tight now that she couldn’t go anywhere. Tighter, and tigher, she squirmed, I put my face beneath her ear and whispered so sadly. “I’m sorry Sarah,”

“What?”

Reach up and grabbed her face, looking her in those beautiful green eyes of hers.

I leaned back and whipped my head forward.

SNAP

Her nose broke, bleeding freely.

She was out cold, likely with a concussion.

I took Ermine’s dead hand and made a fist from it, rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet.

I got to work making it look like an attack, from a teacher who went crazy from obsession.

A smile came to my face. Which he was, he had wanted to break up my little family, take Sarah from me and make her his perfect little wife.

If it wouldn’t have contaminated the scene I would have broken his body into little bits. My strength was more than high enough.

The bastard.

My family needs me. Poor little Jasmine wasn’t even potty trained yet, and that bastard say’s she need real parents, not some brat playing pretend.

Well, where are my damned parents when I need them!

Fuck ‘em I say.

Jasmine my baby sister, and for all-intents and purposes now, my daughter.

Mary sweet little Mary, I will protect you to the end.

Sarah my genius little sister. I will make sure to solve the problems you can’t

Blaze my amazing, huntress in training older sister. I’ll support you when you can’t support yourself.

Saphron my hopeless lesbian of a sister. Terra loves you, I made sure of it.

Gerbera... Maybe one day I’ll forgive you.

Gris, who I knew in my heart was still alive out there in the Grimmlands, was the most amazing women in the world. She’d come back to us one day.

If anyone thinks that they can try to put them in any sort of home away from me...

I will never be alone, never!

I took a deep breath, and reviewed my plan, then put it into action.

Staging the scene of the crime.

It hurt breaking my arm, and giving myself so many bruises.

That pain didn’t compare to the pain from having to hurt poor Sarah.

But, it was necessary.

Once it was all done, I made sure to crawl across the floor to where I flung my scroll.

I let the passenger take the wheel, as I called the police.

------------

Jaune Arc

Age: 13

Gender: Male

Stats

Strength: 30 Speed: 40

- Toughness: 3 Grace: 4

Wits: 25 Wisdom: 34

-Calculation: 2 Mental Fortress: 3

Personality: 43 Perception: 51

-Attraction Value: 4 - Sensory Value: 5

Anima: 223

Aura Level: 2230

AN: This is pretty fucked up, but this Jaune has psychosis. That said, when I meant Jaune will do anything for his family, anything even if it hurts them. Now, I’m going to take a cold shower as a punishment for writing this.

I’ll upload something more uplifting in a bit.

#Jaune Arc #Gamer!Jaune #Psycho!Jaune #Arc Family #Murder #Fucked up #Dark and disturbing.

[skrub-ttrpg]

The SKRUB Character Sheet Tutorial by Max B.

The following will be using a digital character sheet made by our very own Mod Strat, an explanation by the aforementioned Mod Max, and a post by I, Mod Bucket! So long as we’re namedropping our great people of the Dev Team, here’s a fun fact! Regardless of this being the Spooky Month, the Mods are actually all already cryptids. Mod SKRUBLORD is naturally some sort of God-Tiered individual, Mod Jerry is not of this dimension, Mod Strat is literally a living Excel spreadsheet, Mod Max is currently possesing a pair of headphones, Mod Skorx is some description of ghoul, I am a minor deity (guess of what), and Mod Beebz is the anime girl that lives with us and eventually romances one of us in the upcoming Unofficial SKRUB Dating Sim. And now: Tutorial.               -Mod Bucket first off, open this https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1HEsYJcrAiFQuaWLCXqPBElzsBVSyeT2Gs_1z3HRLso4/edit?usp=sharing blank sheet template up and make a copy of it. There's a lot of stuff here, but a bunch of it is automatic, and I'll walk you through it step by step. start on the self sheet. 1. Basic info here's where you put your character name, chumhandle, arc number (if the GP wishes to have one), player name, and hex code. Server, Client, and Sprite get filled in during the game, so don't worry about it yet. The next box is for your land quest. Quests may be revealed to you by the GP before or during the game. If during, just put your title under "dwells the" and fill in the rest later. You can also put in your symbol if you have one.

2. Bio(graphy) most of this is straightforward, put down who lives in your house with you, where your house is, blood caste or social clique, and gender (not necessarily the same as sex). Interests can be whatever you want, but be sure to have at least 6 of them for a later step. In the space on the bottom you can put in a quote that sums up your character's personality.

3. Traits This is Skrub's equivalent to base stats. They describe not your physical skills, but your personality. Here's a rundown: PUL: charisma, coolness, attractiveness VIM: fighting spirit, aggression IMG: creativity, ability to think up new ideas ADR: mental quickness SAG: wisdom, attentiveness PLK: determination, ability to stay positive in the face of hardship The right column is where you put in the base numbers, the left column is the bonus (which is calculated automatically). Start by raising 5 different traits by 1. Then raise 4 by 1. Then 3, then 2, then 1. At the end of it, you should have a total of 15 points among them, with no traits higher than 5. Some potential distributions are 5/4/3/2/1/0, 4/4/2/2/1/1, 3/3/3/3/0, 4/3/3/3/2.

4. Talents these are the common skill checks you'll be making outside (and sometimes inside) of combat. I won't give a rundown for each, but treat it like a word game: if any definition of the word is viable for a situation, you can roll the talent for it. A good example is that roast is both used for cooking and making fun of people. Ignore the interests for now. Of the talents, raise 13 of them by a single point. Then raise another 4 by 1 (can be the same as first volley or different). You should have 17 points distributed across talents, which can be 17 with a value of 1; 7 with 1 and 4 with 2, or anywhere in between. Now, for interests. Each of them is associated with a trait. Take 6 of the interests you made earlier and assign them to their closest-related traits here. These are your custom skills that you can roll throughout the game.

5. Echeladder you can customize the names of each rung in accordance to your character beforehand, or wait to name them until the game so you can name them according to quest.

that's it for the self sheet for now! click the tab next to it to go to the body sheet. 6. Tendencies these are mostly used in-combat, but most of them have an out of combat use as well. They all start at 1, and then you choose another 6 to raise by another 1. You may have noticed that next to the traits table, there's tendencies listed in pairs that correspond to each trait. As traits increase throughout the game, their tendencies rise as well. When a trait reaches a bonus of 2 or higher, pick one of the two traits to raise as well (not applicable during creation as you can't exceed a bonus of 1)

7. Bio(logy) very straightforward, put your age, sex, species, and dreaming moon. sn# is only applicable to robots or other creatures that have serial numbers.

8. Form Schema upload a picture of your character! you can use sheet magic to post an image, or just paste in the URL in the bottom and let it take care of itself.

you'll notice other tables as well, but these are all updated throughout the game please turn to the tab "grist cache/invenstory" 9. Wishes and Triggers: these are things your character does or doesn't want to happen. The rules for how these work are explained in section 3 of the rulebook, but for now, just know you should include a handful of these for flavor. The magnitude of all your triggers must be equal to the magnitude for all your wishes or else the sheet will be mad at you.

and now for the most tedious part, please turn to tab "portfolio". 10. Techniques: the list of techniques is found in section 6 of the rulebook. All players start with three basic techniques (aggrieve, accede, abscond), and the others increase along with your tendencies (if you have a 2 in tempo, you know tier 1 and 2 tempotech). Copy/paste all valid techniques here so you don't have to refer back to the rulebook.

11. Strife Tab: almost all of this is all handled automatically. You'll notice there's a weapon card in the side; That’s in a different sheet. In the box labelled "sleeve", you can select from your list of techniques. Only techniques in your sleeve can be used during battle, and they can be traded out outside of combat. deep breath And that’s it!                     -Mod Max

#Homestuck #MSPA #MS Paint Adventures #SKRUB #TTRPG #Tabletop roleplaying games #SBURB #SBURB tutorial #Character sheet #SBURB character sheet #TW: SKRUBLORD mention #Mod Strat #Mod Max #Love Development: The SKRUB Dating Sim #Mod Bucket

[kingofthewilderwest]

So I’m speaking from my own personal spin, but I love how Fiddleford McGucket can feel like such a musician.

Characters are often incidentally musicians. Writers throw it in there without thought to how music interplays with their life. You could blink and miss it. It doesn’t frame the character’s interests or personality, and if not for one minor scene, you wouldn’t think they had musical background. 

But irl, I often meet people who have (as I affectionately call it) “Musician Brain.”

For some diehard musicians, music is embedded in our personality. You can’t take the musician out of us. We’re constantly thinking and acting out music even when there isn’t an instrument near us. Music gets entangled in quirks, subconscious behaviors, habits, actions, life choices, thought processes, and more. I feel like most fictional musician characters lack that “vibe” or “quirk”. But one thing that entertains me about McGucket is that he can be read as a That Dork With Musician Brain.

I mean like...

The two things Ford buys when McGucket arrives in Gravity Falls are microchips and banjo strings. Sure, Fiddleford might’ve said he needed them. But Ford’s charging to the store because he’s excited and grateful Fiddleford is here, and wants to purchase gifts to make him feel at home. Apparently, the comforts of home aren’t complete without music. That banjo came to the dorms back in the day, didn’t it? Ford probably saw that banjo in the dorms.

It was Important Enough(TM) to be mentioned in Journal #3: Ford set up the ground rule “no banjo playing after eight.” Why? Because otherwise, there would be banjo after eight. Wonderful, beautiful, skilled banjo music. Late at night. When Ford wanted to fucking sleep. There’d be that musician. Still playing. The fucking banjo. After eight. The fact Ford mentions this information early in his journals also means... this was dealt with right away. It had to be dealt with right away. Either because Ford had already experienced this phenomenon ahead of time (college), or because they’d already run into this problem in Gravity Falls... of banjo being played... after eight.

Have you noticed that at all of McGucket’s work stations, the banjo is there? He sets it up beside him during the journal research period. He has it by him in his Palo Alto garage. He’s even got the freaking banjo with him inside the gobblewonker. The banjo is literally part of his work environment. If Fiddleford wanted a real break from work, he could store his musical instruments anywhere. He’d leave the work station, play music, come back. But the instrument needs to be IN EASY REACH. That’s no accident. It’s there to fiddle with while he’s working, while he’s mulling over a problem, while he’s taking a one minute break... etc.

Fiddleford, while idly thinking, automatically starts doing MUSIC THINGS. For instance: hamboning on his knees while doing math calculations. (I know GF made hamboning quasi-linguistic, but if we wanted, we could suggest that before shit hit the fan, Fiddleford used hamboning as the musical thing it is.) No wonder Ford commented in the journal he could “put up with” Fiddleford’s eccentricities. It would be something that needed... tolerance. I’m imagining a quiet day in the lab, and then... whack-a-whack-a-whack-whack-a-whakkk. Try concentrating on your mind-grueling advanced research while the guy next to you is smacking up a rhythmically complicated groove using himself as a drum! Did Fiddleford get glares for that? I’m betting Fiddleford got glares for that.

Granted, flashbacks with Fiddleford don’t cover his happiest life period. He’s tense, on edge, anxious, not smiling. But maybe there’s something to be said that the one and only time we see young McGucket at ease smiling... is when he’s playing his instrument. 

By the way. It’s not just one banjo. In Palo Alto, McGucket didn’t have one instrument he could play in his “home office.” He had two, set up, right there. Two instruments. One garage. I can tell you for a fact, once the instruments start multiplying, you’re usually a lost cause.

SPEAKING OF BANJOS MULTIPLYING. When you open the front cover of Journal #3, you get blueprints labeled “From the Desk of Fiddleford H. McGucket.” Most is professional. The raccoons are eyebrow-raising. But most is professional. And then we get to the Gideon Bot, which, for NO REASON AT ALL, has a storage chamber dedicated to a “prize banjo collection.” What. What is that doing there, Fiddleford. I know that wasn’t Gideon’s idea. Why are you amassing banjos in a giant tyrant robot? 

Need to keep this guy awake through a long night? Drown him in coffee and blast those bluegrass records.

The science bros plan a serious expedition to an alien spaceship crash site. This will be an aweing experience, especially for Fiddleford, who’ll be seeing it his first time. The expedition is serious work, key to their endeavored scientific breakthroughs. It’ll be a several day rigorous hiking trip through uncivilized wilds, through forests and caves and more, through dangerous paranormal areas. They’ll only be able to carry bare essential supplies with them. There’s no room for anything besides bare essentials. What’s a bare essential? That Fiddleford can’t live two and a half days without? That he absolutely needs to bring? Apparently? His fucking banjo. He brought his fucking banjo.

Speaking of bringing banjos where no banjo should go... let’s try “parachuting through the air into the evil layer of a dream demon for a last stand apocalyptic rescue mission.” Yeah, McGucket uses the instrument like a weapon. That hurts my soul - musical instruments aren’t weapons. You could suggest it’s for self-defense that the instrument came. But... there would’ve been three hundred other things in the Mystery Shack better equipped for self-defense. And yet you parachuted hundreds of feet through the air with a banjo on your back. 

No apocalypse shelter is complete without your musical instrument!

Can’t move into the new home without the banjo, either! Basically the only thing he brought, too.

Ever thought about how, post-memory loss and life collapse, the one quality possession he manages to keep with him... is his banjo?

And he still plays and practices music consistently! He mentions in “Land Before Swine” he has an “hourly hootenanny.” It’s a self-scheduled time for music that he’s presumably repeating most days. 

Speaking of “Land Before Swine”, McGucket says he loses musical spoons to a dinosaur. It’s to note that spoons are sometimes used as percussion, including in American folk music. This isn’t McGucket speaking nonsense. This is him knowing stringed instruments and percussion.

Mental health struggles, self-inflicted memory loss, and a poor living situation have taken their toll on McGucket through the decades. But that can’t destroy how music sings through his soul. When he plays, “the age lift[s] off his face,” and Ford can see “the Fiddleford who had been [his] friend so many years ago.” McGucket is relaxed, happy, and at peace with his instrument, so much that his identity sings together with the strings. Ford recognizes his friend of old - his friend back before shit hit the fan - because that man playing banjo is who Fiddleford is.

In a way, music is what demonstrates resolution to Fiddleford’s character arc - both his growth arc, and his relationship with Ford. He starts the story as a man smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. He goes through many issues once he starts research in Gravity Falls. And then he ends the story as a man again smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. Smiling on the banjo is the bookmark start and the bookmark end, showing he’s grown back emotionally after all the struggles. Not to mention... music’s sorta the resolving moment where two old, close friends find peace. Ford and Fiddleford have had decades of guilt, pain, and consequences from their mistakes. A key symbolic moment of their relationship being mended - fully mended - is when the two can listen to the banjo together.

Again, this is my own spin, but I live for how Fiddleford McGucket comes off as so musicianny to me. As a composer who’s constantly carting a pennywhistle in my satchel... who hums with my electric toothbrush because it vibrates on middle C... who curses the fact I have apartment neighbors because otherwise I’d have my viola out at 4 AM... I’m damn charmed to encounter a fictional character who I feel emanates musician vibes, musician quirks... Musician Brain.

#long post #Gravity Falls #GF #Fiddleford McGucket #Old Man McGucket #non-dragons #analysis #my analysis #Stanford Pines #Ford Pines #fiddauthor #I can put that right? #^.^ #why not #Pocalypse Preppin #yes I like this character... can you tell? ;) #music #ngl have a few fanfic drabble ideas..... on this topic.......... #oh shoot forgot to mention Sev'ral Timez #Lost Time

[coe-lilium]

Fate’s Avenger Amakusa Masuda Shirou Tokisada from FGO EoR III. 

Shimosa just passed its 2nd Jp birthday, has finally debuted in NA and my pipe dream of getting him as playable Servant is still a pipe dream, so to hell with it,  I made him sprite and profile myself. 

Hopefully I’ve managed to get the tone of official FGO profiles right. 

Warning: there are some brief spoilers for Arc 2

PROFILE

A nearly 40 years old Amakusa who survived the siege of Hara and lost himself to grief and hate to the point of resembling a vengeful ghost long before his death.  

Discrete as a swordsman, but experienced and lethal as a mage; a jaded person who looks younger than his age but behaves like he’s older.

The years of his life between Hara and the events occurred in the Shimosa pseudo parallel world are shrouded in mystery.

Height/Weight: 180cm - 66kg                                                                    Source: Historical Fact / Alternative history                                                Region of Origin: Japan                                                                          Alignment: Chaotic Evil                                                                              Gender: Male    

A very different person to the Heroic Spirit previously summoned by Chaldea.

Bond 1

Up until he was 17 years old, his life went down exactly as his PanHuman history self.

However, as he was bleeding and about to die a man dressed in ridiculous clothing sprung from thin air, got rid of the shogunate soldiers and quietly offered him a clawed hand. 

After some time of feverish nightmares, Amakusa recovered enough from his injuries to witness Hara castle being razed from distance, too weak to stop it as he’d be to stop the mass executions that followed. His despair began turning into hate when heads were lined up by the thousands. 

Edo and the shogun’s family burned to ashes few years after 1639 thanks to his and Douman’s sorceries, dooming Amakusa original timeline to erasure and setting him on the travels that ended in Shimosa.                                                 

Upon his arrival in Chaldea and made to confront Ruler’s presence he renounced the Amakusa title and retook his family name of Masuda.   

Bond 2

«Amakusa Shirou» always possessed a decent number of magic circuits and the ability to wield any form of magecraft as long as he connected his circuits to a foundation, but usually his short life and the lack of magical education prevented him to become fully aware of his powers and reaching his potential as mage. 

As Masuda is an “Amakusa who got to live”, he also got the chance to hone that ability and learn to use many types of curses and offensive magics, in which he now specialise. Thanks to time, studies and the occasional guidance of Douman he became a cruel and skilled mage. 

Similar to his Ruler self, his arms have become a Noble Phantasm.      

Bond 3

The attempt at looking like Chaldea’s Amakusa employed in Shimosa discarded, Avenger now appears in his late twenties even if he was 37 years old at the time of his death. 

He learnt a technique or two for slowing the ageing process but as he refuse to look as if he didn’t survive 1638 or be confused with Ruler, he settled for a decade of difference from both. Outside the off-putting red sclera, his hair and skin color are those he was born with.  

His clothes are identical to Ruler’s but in colors and details, the main difference in their attire being Avenger’s armor. The one he wears was gifted to Yamada Emonsaku by the government in one of the first worlds Masuda and Douman visited. Avenger, who by then had mostly recovered and was furious, hunted down Emonsaku, killed him and took the traitor’s armor for himself. 

He could’ve washed the blood or scrubbed the crest away anytime but chose not to, for reasons he probably won’t be albe to fully explain.

Bond 4

The events of the pseudo parallel world of Shimosa were the culmination of twenty years of travels, machinations and despair that once again ended in failure thanks to Musashi, Senji Muramasa and the Master with which he has now begrudgingly formed a pact… let’s just say he’s far from having the warmest attitude or personality in Chaldea. 

Upon his death he was registered into the Throne as a distinct soul for obscure motives, perhaps even thanks to the machinations of a certain AlterEgo. 

Summoning this individual instead of the PanHuman history younger self when trying to call forth «Amakusa Shirou» would be near impossibile without Chaldea’s FATE system.

Bond 5

What all my nightmares are made of                                                          Rank: A                             Type: Anti-Army                                                                                           Range: 1~200 Maximum number of targets: 500 people Hell of Shimabara

A Reality Marble exclusive to this “Amakusa Shirou” alone. For a given time, reality is overwritten by the mental world of the caster. In Avenger’s case, the targets will find themselves in a hellish landscape were the terrain is made of ashes and dead bodies, the air a deadly poison filled with pained screams, fires rages and the burning, half-collapsed castle of Hara towers over its old and new victims.

Difficult to escape from, other than the obvious purpose of killing its targets it can serve as a momentary cage and torture device to those its owner knows able to survive it but wants delayed or trapped for any reason.

Tends to be more effective when employed against Heroes with Good alignment or receptive to the suffering of people.          

Right Arm, Path to Wickedness Left Arm, Foundation of Hell’s Curses Rank: C Type: Anti-Unit Range: 1 Maximum Targets: 1

His hands that have become Noble Phantasms. With them, he had caused ‘miracles’ to occur before the rebellion and with them he learned many ways to destroy his enemies after the siege. Able to connect to any magecraft foundation, they form a ‘key’ that allows him to wield any form of magecraft to various degrees, even those he has no understanding of. 

A rank higher than Ruler’s thanks to Avenger’s additional decades of magical education and training.

Miike Tenta Mitsuyo Rank: C+ Type: Anti-Unit Range: 1 Maximum Targets: 1

the sword Avenger carries, formerly of a "certain one-eyed master swordsman”. While a simple armament in the hands of PanHuman Amakusa, Masuda has spent years strengthening his own and embedding it with curses, which results in it current state of being surrounded by fire (that and the amusing reactions a blazing sword tends to have on a common soldier). 

Even if the powerful being who aided him in his revenge was never a devil, the blade gained some traits of genuine demonic swords thanks to its owner different conviction, a process not unlike the one that gave the Assyrian empress the Gardens even when she had no true connection with them.         

Not impressive as far as demonic swords go, but its wounds are poisoned and can pose a serious danger to saints or otherwise religious figures. 

CHARACTER

Personality

A calculating man who is no stranger to sudden fits of rage or detached silences and keeps to himself. Abrasive with allies as with enemies, he tries his best to actively push people away, not last because of familiarity with solitude and for finding crowds of people to be distressing. 

The smug but not malicious attitude of Chaldea’s Amakusa was probably part of Avenger’s personality too in the past, before it turned into the current viciousness and gratuitous cruelty in actions and remarks.

Glimpses of a empathic and thoughtful person buried under the rage can still be seen, albeit rarely, with young heroic spirits or those who have suffered a great deal unprepared. Like a Master freshly out their first destroyed, innocent alternative history.   

Not impossible to mellow out, but the process to gain anything more than detached tolerance would be a long one.

Motives and attitude

Aware of having being used as test for the Lostbelts plot by someone he thought an ally, he summoned himself to Chaldea out of spite and to return the betrayal with interests. He still resent the Master for what happened in Shimosa, but he posses intel Chaldea could use and he’ll provide it with glee. Somehow similar to the Count’s reasoning for appearing in the Time Temple, just less benign. 

Focused and effective in battle, it’s best not pair him with Servants who use firearms and cannons. The sound could bring his memories back to Hara and leave him in a state that could jeopardise the fight.        

The relationship with the Master is particularly sour and he’d rather spend his time holed up with Holmes and Sokaris sharing informations and discussing strategies and chances against the remaining Crypters than giving Guda some time or finding selected fellow Servants to relax with. 

Nonetheless, Guda persists.   

RELATIONS

Amakusa Shirou Tokisada (Ruler)

A nightmare for both.

Avenger is torn between resentment and envy for the boy with whom he shares family, people and the pain of seeing them slaughtered… and yet choose to protect humanity and -he believes- had it easier by not having to live with the guilt of being the sole survivor of the massacre.                                                   If one were to discuss Ruler’s plan for the Grail and how it’s hardly the wish a «not troubled» individual would make, Avenger would dismiss the attempt to have him see how alike they are saying «but he did not kill thousands, did he?». After some time, however, his resentment will mostly die down and he’ll be relieved to see how happier the kid seems to be in this strange new life.             

Ruler is horrified to face what could’ve become of him and tries not to see nor interact with Avenger in any way, up to avoid pointing out that by being incarnated for decades after a certain summon he knows all too well how it feels to live with survivor’s guilt. Nonetheless, after the initial shock has passed, he’ll sneak behind his older self back and asks for other Servants’ cooperation in not letting this mirror of his be alone.        

Ashiya Douman

The one who saved him from the siege and helped him bury his mother and sisters after the shogunate had them executed. An accomplice and manipulator at the same time, who nonetheless was the only familiar face and constant help he had in twenty years and his main teacher in magic. He doesn’t know if he wants to toss Douman into the sea for leaving him to die in Onriedo, leave him to other Servants tender mercies or…    Either way, he won’t push the AlterEgo away unless he’s in a terrible mood.  

After Douman joins Chaldea, half of Avenger’s time is spent keeping him from stirring trouble or from being murdered by the likes of Fuuma Kotaro or Asklepios and their roles of guardian-charge get inverted. A single action is completely forbidden to his old ally: going anywhere near Amakusa.  

Edmond Dantes

A strange man. What business could someone like him have with his Ruler self? And why would he pester him instead of leaving him alone or in Limbo’s company? Still, he doesn’t completely resent the attempts. They joined forces in physically throwing Douman away that time the AlterEgo had the disgraced idea to approach Ruler.        

Jeanne Alter Santa Lily

Much to Amakusa and the Jeanne sisters initial horror, Avenger has taken a liking to Lily, who reminds him of his younger sister Man. He tends to keep his distance but won’t send the young Lancer away if she were to approach first.     

Saint Martha

No matter how disillusioned with God Avenger has become, he has nothing but respect for the saint his mother was named after, especially after seeing that her moral fortitude and fighting prowess are paired with the personality of a punk brawler instead of the distant and composed lady he expected. When addressing her, he’ll use the most formal and respectful register.    

Japanese Heroic Spirits connected to the Tokugawa clan or government

For the well being of everyone in Chaldea, keep them separated. The same advise would apply to any eventual Dutch Heroic Spirit.  

Senji Muramasa and Shinmen Musashi

«Keep them the fuck away from me if you don’t want Chaldea to be covered in dead people’s ashes».  

Other Avengers

Initially fascinated by Angra Mainyu, he began keeping him at arms length once he learnt of Angra’s circumstances of innocent scapegoat on the grounds of «a victim shouldn’t be compared with a real mass murderer» and the frankly bizarre tendency of the boy to flirt with his younger self.                                        Displaying a detached tolerance for Jeanne Alter’s noisy personality, they once drew their weapons against each other the time Jeanne was worried for Lily but the matter was quickly settled and they were back to barely interacting.        He finds himself at ease in Gorgon and Hessian Lobo’s company and can be found napping in Lobo’s fur from time to time.  

Chaldea’s versions of Shimosa’s Swordmasters

No reaction except a smirk or a sad smile depending on the mood. Disappointed Chaldea’s Kojiro is a completely different person from the one he knew. Douman is fine, but sometimes more than one familiar face to hang out with wouldn’t hurt.

#fate grand order #fate series #fate og servant #kinda? #fan servant #for sure #avenger amakusa #coe does art #and writing

[sebthesnipe]

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? Part 3

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer 

@whatwashernameagain​

Let’s jump right in, shall we?

Reminder: Spoilers under cut! 

If we pick up where we left off, Logan talks about The Dreamer’s/Roman’s vision of the future ‘where everyone could live in love and harmony, and humanity would grow into its glowing, gallant potential, coexisting in friendship with nature and respecting the planet while creating a world fir for fairy tails’. “Why would no one see that [The Dreamer] was clearly delusional” (Whatwashernameagain)? Can anyone say… Foreshadowing?

I know I haven’t made it to chapter 2 yet but I need to bring this up so… If you haven’t read Chapter 2 yet then skip this bit.

*****CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS**** 

Once again, Roman’s character portrait is gaining more depth with this paragraph. In Chapter 2 we learn that Roman really does see the future this way. The knowledge has a sense of innocence that Logan obviously finds annoying but adds yet another endearing quality to the hero. I won’t go into too much detail about Chapter 2 but the foreshadowing here is quite lovely and shouldn’t be ignored. Logan calls Roman delusional for his vision and he truly is. With everything that we learn in Chapter 2 we see just how delusional the hero really is. But its not only for the future… his delusions go far deeper, involving his family, his duty, his team… I’ll stop there. You’ll just have to read my analysis of Chapter 2 when I eventually get there.

Now back to our regular scheduled programming…

*****END OF CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS*****

 Okay… so this next para…. Oh man… So many thoughts…. “Despite his illogical argumentation, [The Dreamer] had somehow kept him from some of the more drastic measures [Logan’s] supercomputer suggested would be necessity for the continued well-being of all – much to the computer’s ire” (Whatwashernameagain). So, I really want to use two types of literary theories here… one being reader-response and the other bordering psychoanalysis. In other words, more Freud stuff.  Don’t worry I’m not going to go into too much detail this time.

When I read this para all I can picture is the left and right side of the brain, which is really what Roman and Logan are aren’t they? I’ve briefly touched on the fact that Logan and Roman are polar opposites complimenting themselves before but… this para makes me consider it in a different way. Roman is acting almost like a conscious here; providing a line to draw when Logan starts to get out of control. Roman is the reigns that are yanked when Logan goes too fast. He keeps the Logical side in check. Fitting. Poetic. Perfect. Love it, Eva.

And… This super computer has so much Sass… Must be Remy. XP

With the introduction of Remy we get another burst of the light hearted humor that comes with his personality. Eva balances the character well, in my opinion. Remy is supposed to be a supercomputer with some sass but writing a character that is a computer can be difficult. I really would like to spend some time discussing Remy but I am afraid that I can’t go into to much detail. Remy in this scene is more of a support character, and there isn’t much to go on at the moment… Of course, knowing Eva, this will change in the future. I am sure he has plenty to say about Remy as the story progresses. As it stands Remy makes for a good comic relief and fantastic transitional device, pulling the reader from Logan’s thoughts back into the present to help the story move on.

 **I’m going to pause here for a moment. While analyzing the entrance of Remy I grew curious about a few things and decided to ask her. I am going back to edit this in because while writing this portion of the analysis I felt as if I was missing something. Why did she choose Remy specifically to be the supercomputer and how does it play into any of this? I knew there had to be a reason, but I hadn’t managed to figure it out. So, I asked. Here was her response:

“So I absolutely thought about why I wanted Remy as the computer. Computers are associated with cool predictability and lacking emotional competence and stiff, predictable speech patterns. Everything Logan already is. Especially this computer, who has to calculate the highest odds- the value of human life - has to make extremely cold and emotionless decisions. He would have escalated Logan’s crusade dramatically had he behaved exactly like Logic at its worst and purest moments. And their conversations would have read like Logan talking to his Mini me. He had to break up that stereotype because we already have a human trying to operate like a computer. If the calculation of our actions through utilitarian predictions are possible (which I believe they are) the reverse - the creation of unique and emotionally capable A.I.s needs to be taken into account soon. Though Remy is not part of the deliberation yet, his ability for human emotion demands he be included. He makes that demand by being essentially the most human of all of them and I will go into (too much) Detail when it’s time for his arc.”

When she told me this I was floored! I knew that she put more deliberation into her writing than most, but I had never really expected this. That sounds as if I underestimated her but that isn’t the case. I knew she had considered it or I wouldn’t have asked but… Well this is just so beautiful… I suppose there is a reason she is such a fantastic writer… And this people, is one of them. Absolutely stunning, Eva. **

 We jump back into Logan’s thoughts within the next paragraph. Remy accused the man of not ‘giving an f’ about what he says. He states that he attempts to follow Remy’s advice without prejudice. “However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate. It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain). I LOVE this paragraph!

So, the imagery here is fantastic. Eva uses a wonderful simile that really catches Logan’s personality. But I’ll have to get into that in a moment. I want to touch on something else first. We know that Logan is driven by Logic; he is Thomas’ logical side after all. That being said, it has been discussed within her Keep Him Safe fandom that Logan is/maybe autistic. I think that it is very fitting for Logan to be autistic (though this may be due to the fact that I am autistic as well). The thing is… and I really wish I had the source for this, but I don’t know what I’ve done with it and can’t for the life of me find it again. I am sorry. Anyways, if we look at this logically Logan is thirty years old (thought Eva may change that but the Logan in Sanders Sides is thirty because Thomas is thirty so I’m going with it); Which means that he grew up in 1990s. There wasn’t a lot of treatment for mild cases of autism in the nineties. In fact, it wasn’t until 2013 Autism Spectrum disorders were classified in DSM-V (History of Autism Treatment). Even if children were diagnosed before then, most cases in the 1980s and some in the 1990 used ECT, which involves passing small electric currents through the brain to intentionally trigger a brief seizure (History of Autism Treatment). These seizures are supposed to be hypothesized to change the brain chemistry in a way to reduce mental health symptoms (History of Autism Treatment). ECT is still used in some cases of autism today, though it is rare (History of Autism Treatment). Why is this important? Well, I am 27 years old. I grew up in the same era of Logan. I am also autistic so believe me when I say that /if/ someone tried to get Logan treated as a child he would have been subject to countless medications, off the wall treatment plans and subject to so many misdiagnoses that eventually he would have simply folded in on himself as we’ve seen him do throughout this work. On top of that, when he eventually came off of the treatments, he would had molded himself to avoid them at all costs becoming cold and driven by logic, blocking away as much of the emotional side of himself as he could and thus becoming the Logan we know today. This defense mechanism would obvious move into his adult years. I don’t know if this is Logan’s history in this work, this is merely speculation, but I am quite fond of the idea and historically speaking it is entirely possible.

 **Author confirmed Logan is autistic**

 I explain all this because if a person tries to block out emotions that are core to the very existence of a human being than what happens? Well, the example Eva gives, that’s what; “He attempted to follow the disgruntled computer’s advices without prejudice. However, whenever he endeavored to put those plans into action or even considered it, something made him hesitate” (Whatwashernameagain). Logan obviously tries to be as cold and calculating as his computer but despite his efforts, the fact remains… He is /not/ a computer; and he never will be. No matter how logical you try to be… no matter how much you block out your emotions, they will turn up here and there and there is NOTHING you can do to stop them. It is part of the human condition. Which brings me back to the simile I mentioned.

“It was like a bug, hindering his rational thought process. A pesky pop-up window halting his deliberations and muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling” (Whatwashernameagain).

This simile reinforces my hypothesis, but I still can’t say that it is true. Regardless it does show the struggle between Logan’s desire to be cold and calculating and his humanity; even basically describing himself as a computer (I’m pretty sure Remy would have a few things to say about that if he knew).  He describes his humanity as a bug, or a virus, a pop-up messing with his head. Or… Could it be that it’s not his humanity that’s bothering him at all… Maybe it’s something… or someone else….

He states that this virus is “muddling his convictions with banal platitudes and illogical rambling”. For those of you about to look up the definition of banal platitudes, I’ve already done the work for you lol. It basically means clichés. So… clichés and ‘illogical’ rambling? Sound like anyone we know? Maybe a certain Dreamer? I talk as if Logan’s pesky humanity and The Dreamer are two different issues entirely but they are not. Roman seems to be a symbol of Logan’s unwanted humanity; something he both needs to define himself and hates because he wishes he didn’t need it. It is quite a wonderful use of symbolism and philosophical structure, beautifully executed. Someone once told me that a superhero is only as good as its villain. I believe that has some truth to it and vice versa. What would Batman be without the Joker or The Riddler? But it also poses the question… What would we be without our humanity. What would good be without bad? In life we define everything as a comparison. If you try to describe the color red you wouldn’t be able to because they can not compare the color to things that are red. In a world without bad, we wouldn’t recognize the good and in a world without good, the bad is just life. Would it be the same if the Utilitarianist didn’t have The Dreamer? If Logan didn’t have Roman?

This an actual concept in the literary world known as the dialectical method. “The dialectical method of analysis begins with particular sense data (knowledge of a single object). But such focus on a particular object of knowledge immediately invites reflection on what the particular object is not. It is not a concept or idea or category. We look at the legal system, for example, and see a law, but to understand a particular law fully we need to know what the principle or idea is that makes it a law" (Rivkin, Julie). While it doesn’t exactly work 100% for Roman and Logan in this instant, it basically mean that one thing is only defined by comparing it to another. But that is for another story…

A good writer makes their reader want to ask questions, to learn more… we see that here without a doubt.

I mentioned that the ‘banal platitudes and illogical ramblings Logan mentioned that were distracting him could be Roman and the next line confirms that theory: “The Dreamer was intruding on his mental solitude increasingly often with the memories of his wide eyes, predictably shocked at learning about the Utilitarianist’s latest plans, before determination lit a fire in his green eyes.” I’m sure his eyes are not the only thing crossing Logan’s mind… As I said before, Roman is a good representation of Logan’s conscious here, with a subtext of attraction that is ever present when it comes to his thoughts about the hero. Logan goes on to describe Roman’s banter once more but this time… there’s something a little different to his words.

“His voice was like a constraining vice around his chest, forcing him to remember his outraged claims of rightness and kindness and chivalry and peace – foolish banalities standing in the way of real benefits for the world. And yet his arguments kept resurfacing in his mind, playing like a broken record. Hopes for unity and joint efforts and belief in humanity’s solidarity and such naive nonsense. Data had proven the probability of success for his hopes at about 8%. A waste of time” (Whatwashernameagain).

8%.... 8%... Of course, Logan would know that! He talks about this hero getting in his way and messing up his plans but when it comes down to it the constant reminder seems to point to one thing… (Besides denial and attraction which we’ve already covered) Jealousy. Logan obviously isn’t jealous of The Dreamer’s popularity or social status, he doesn’t have a care for though things. No, the thing Logan is jealous of is hope. Let’s think about this for a moment. Sure, Roman is the symbol of hope for the country but that’s a different kind of hope. No, the thing that Logan continuously points out is the man’s ignorant hopeful view of a future that is almost impossible… Well, 92% impossible anyways. Logan is autistic… he is driven by logic, pushing down all his emotions as best he can because they are inherently bad… at least that is what he was conditioned to believe; you can’t push down just the bad emotions, its an all or nothing type of deal if you’re trying to be the most logical being you can be… Which means all the good emotions went with them… Logan doesn’t feel emotions like most people… like Roman…

I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel emotions, being autistic can sometimes mean you simply don’t feel emotions the same way as others. Plus, it makes sense for Logan to suppress them… ANYWAYS, I’m getting sidetracked. My point is that a lot of times when you struggle with something like that (or even depression (since ‘numbness’ can be a symptom of depression)) it can be quite difficult to see others enjoying emotions that you are incapable/not use to feeling. It is possible that this might be the case with Logan. Roman’s hope for the future, despite complaining of his naivety, is something Logan covets. It is something he probably respects, though he’d never admit it. I’m sure he no doubt calculated the statistics of Roman’s future to prep for his next argument but also because he was just a little bit curious as to how likely it really is. I even doubt he would actually tell Roman he only had an 8% chance of succeeding because he doesn’t want to see disappointment on those beautiful features; he’d probably just tell him the chances were slim… Though Roman would no doubt be one of those guys that would respond to ‘Fat chance’ with ‘I have a chance; and its fat!”.    Of course, the next paragraph confirms my thoughts on Roman’s reaction to the information and once again reinforces Logan’s thoughts on just how handsome The Dreamer is.

The thing I want to draw attention to next is another opinion of Logan’s. Eva writes from his POV “Thankfully, many of his actions were far too advanced for a simple mind like the Dreamer’s, which afforded him the ability to work in peace. The threat of law-enforcement was hardly severe enough to warrant his attention. Still, he had interrupted his work and caused critical failure to several of his more drastic plans” (Whatwashernameagain).  So, this brings up a number of things we were not privy to beforehand. First, it paints the dynamic in a bit of a different light. It brings our attention to the fact that Logan doesn’t see the man as the sharpest tool in the shed. We learn in Chapter 2 that that isn’t exactly the reason behind it all but Logan, of course is not privy to this… yet. Once again, we see Logan have a bit of a superiority complex, though I doubt he means to or even realizes it. In society today, knowledge is power, and Logan has a lot of it. His view that Roman is less intelligent puts him lower on the power scale and therefore beneath him. This reinforces the same imagery offered earlier in the story, calling Roman a ‘thorn in [Logan’s] shoe’ and the fact that Logan is not happy being attracted to him. On the opposite side it also reinforces just how adorably innocent Roman is.

I LOVE this next bit! Logan mentions that he had not made Roman a target despite Remy’s insistence and explains his position of the subject: “he was trying to be useful in his own way. Criminals and terrorist attempting to profit of the system’s flaws or praying on the weak were an issue the Utilitarianist was aware of, even if he had little time to devote to such matters as we worked on the grand scheme of things. Pedophiles were most deplorable, yes, but Remy could not devote his processor power to chasing every single individual. They had brought two sex-trafficking rings to light with the help of their white-hat-hackers and had, by making the addresses of the offenders’ public, dealt with a lot of them indirectly, yet a single kidnapping was a too small variable to devote any time to” (Whatwashernameagain). So far, we’ve seen Logan move from frustration, obsession, denial, attraction, respect to envy… now we see… understanding? While some may think this is a bit contradictory, I would have to disagree… In fact, it makes complete sense that Logan would accept and understand Roman’s heroic persona. Afterall, the two of them share the same goal, they simply go about it in two different extremes.

Logan wants a better world where things like corrupt governments are nonexistent and every person can walk to their car at night without having to cling to their pepper spray or keys so desperately. Granted, he is attempting to accomplish this on such a large scale that it will not happen anytime soon, but the intention is still there. In his mind, the end justifies the means and therefore the Utilitarianist was born. Roman wants the same world, granted there are a few more rainbows and most certainly more glitter in his vision but it is the same none the less. The only difference is Roman’s sense of morality stopping him from doing something as drastic as Logan does. I think Logan sees this and though he considers the unwillingness a type of weakness he can see that Roman has a use and therefore has value (just as the utilitarianism principle suggests). In fact, in a way, Roman is assisting Logan in his goals, though it is a very small way. He is basically taking care of smaller crimes while Logan attempts to handle the big guns. This, of course, paints their dynamic in a bit of different light; Logan being the brains while Roman fumbles about and makes his job far more difficult that it needs to be. Think of it like Pinky and the Brain, or Dexter (from Dexter’s Laboratory) and his sister DeeDee (Is my age showing?). Within the next two paragraphs

Logan talks about the hero saving a young girl and the ‘almost-admiration’ that he had felt for the hero who was basically doing something Logan was incapable of; which reinforces the analysis. A small snippet of their interactions is seen for the first time; Roman lecturing about every life counts and using power for good; Logan making a smart-ass comment in return and blasting him off the oil rig with high pressured water. This is actually quite a beautiful scene because it shows the rivalry (despite Logan’s complaining) is filled with more of a playfulness than actual malice. It is obvious that Logan doesn’t really want to harm Roman and vice versa. It makes for a very soft moment for the reader, warming them a bit.

The playfulness continues through the next scene. Logan reminisces about a moment when Roman’s ‘incompetence’ managed to get him captured by another villain. There is a lot to read during this scene so I will try to be brief (I am trying to shorten these parts while also moving a bit quicker through the work, so I don’t bore you guys too much). Logan states that “only Remy had managed to piece together his whereabouts after Logan had mentioned his failure to appear in front of a camera for a solid two days. Leaving him to die in the hands of such an individual might have caused a significant amount of unrest and subsequent danger to the public” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off, do you really pay Roman so much attention that you notice when he’s not there to brighten your day? Of course you do. I’m sure he would love the attention if he knew about it. Anyways, the last sentence provides more insight into what I have previously said about Logan’s recognition of Roman’s usefulness. He states that Roman’s disappearance would cause unrest and subsequent danger to the public. While, he may be making excuses, according to Remy, he does recognize this to be try and it is. If the public discovered The Dreamer was gone crime would spike, people’s hope would disappear causing them to lash out in fear and over protectiveness; everything Logan was working towards wouldn’t necessarily crumble but would no doubt be slowed. Which brings me back to the whole dialectical theory thing from earlier, which I won’t bore you with again. Just know that everything is related to something else in meaning, including Logan and Roman.

Love the light humor of Remy calling Logan his ‘computer-world-interaction device! LOL! Aside from the light humor, the interaction is a good resource in rounding out Remy as a character. It offers the reader a chance to understand that Remy needs/wants to interact with the outside world, to experience what it is to be apart of society outside his connections with the internet… Don’t we all Remy… Don’t we all… It develops Remy into the AI he is supposed to be rather than the image of a computer we originally had.

“Saving the Dreamer from his own incompetence was not a concession to his naive beliefs. No, certainly not! If anything, his wailing and warbling had caused Logan a headache as he’d dragged him out of the bunker, arguing the whole way” (Whatwashernameagain).

Logan SAVED Roman?! I love this. Irony at its finest! The villain saves the hero. Poetic justice! It also paints Logan to have a heart, though he denies it, which is quite nice too. Too bad Roman has no idea that his initials are carved in the ice around said heart. Best part is, we actually get to see a small snippet of the argument between the two: “’Uhhng you’re such an impossible motherf- um motherboard! Because you’re like a computer! Cold and emotionless!’ [The Dreamer] wailed, narrowly avoiding uttering a vile insult in his frustration. He prided himself on a hero’s impeccable manners, after all” (whatwashernameagain).

So, this snippet does a lot of things for Roman’s persona here. It provides him with the sass we hadn’t seen from him yet, giving him a bit more personality and a small bit of his POV which is a first in the story as well. We also can see the stark contrast between his and Logan’s frustration. Roman loses a bit of control in his frustration and almost curses; while Logan’s frustration, while intense, was still controlled almost to perfection (minus the one time he almost got caught because Roman got him to argue with him). His calm cool demeanor rarely cracking. Roman, as we see here, however, is the opposite, wearing the emotion on his sleeve and allowing it to flow freely rather than being bottled up and locked away like Logan attempts to do.

“Why had he cared to save this man after all? Not because of the softly uttered gratitude he’d finally muttered as he’d bundled him into an intimidated police officer’s car or his wide, awed eyes as he’d materialized out of the shadows of his cell, perfectly adjusted to the darkness in his neck-high sleek, black suit and high-tech mask that made him resemble a nimble, black cat. Or the way his expression had morphed into a knowing, almost warm smile before their differences had made their tempers rise once again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, first off… Lets look at the structure here. This is another thing I love about Eva’s writing. I’ve mentioned time and time again, her ability to transition from one POV to another seamlessly but she also does it with timeframes. We’ve seen it a few times now, but this is probably the most obvious one which is why I waited until I got to this point before bringing it up. Before this para we were reading a small snippet of the arguing as Logan dragged Roman to safety. Now, we see Logan deposit Roman into a car and then BAM! Back in the cell he had been being kept in. The best part is that it is done so seamlessly that the reader doesn’t even really think about the fact that they are jumping back and forth in this timeline, they are simply able to piece it together as if it was all one piece… absolutely beautiful…

This para also gives a small insight into the humanity in Logan I had mentioned before, the humanity that only seems to come out when Roman is around; thus, reinforcing the fact that Roman /is/ Logan’s humanity. It also is a reminder of Logan’s denial but who is paying attention to that anymore?

Logan mentions the ‘softly uttered gratitude’ that Roman mutters as he was bundled in the car; making me wonder just how often Logan is thanked? Probably never… It is no wonder it was something of note here. It is like feeding a steak to someone who is accustomed to instant ramen: Surprising but not unwelcomed.

He also talks about Roman’s ‘wide, awed eyes,’ the look turning into a ‘knowing, almost warm smile.’ This is another example of how Eva manages to catch emotions so beautifully. This is also a wonderful example of Reader-Response theory as well. She mentions the physical reaction that Roman has at the appearance of Logan, but she leaves everything else up to the reader to fill in the blank… to shape the story. Still, she gave us just enough to work with.

Roman is obviously surprised that someone was there for him as his eyes go wide, but its really the fact that it is Logan, his opposite, his rival, that is there to save him. The shock fades quickly though as everything Roman has been arguing with the man over seems to come true in his eyes. Logan has just proven Roman right in the sense that Logan is good at heart and /can/ do the right thing… that there is hope that he can be led down the ‘right’ path. But the smile he offered wasn’t cocky or conceited if that were the case. It was simply ‘warm’. The complexity of human thought and emotions is far to vast for anyone to really /know/ what Roman was thinking her but I’m going to give a guess: Roman saw for the first time that his rival was not only living up to Roman’s hopes and expectations but was, in a way, providing him with a sense of friendship that Roman probably wasn’t accustomed to. Or at least a sense of affection (platonic or otherwise). No doubt, being a hero was a very lonely existence.

And we end the scene with Logan mentioning Remy’s like for Roman and his ‘cute ass and mouth.’  That’s Remy for you.

Thank you for joining me for Part 3 of this analysis. I apologize for the length and want to thank you for baring with me through it.

Yes, this is a repost. I had posted a very short Part 3 earlier today and did not want to end the Chapter 1 analysis on an odd number, so I combined Parts 3 and 4.

I will see you guys in part 4! Feel free to send me an ask or message with questions, concerns, emotional outbursts or things you simply would like to discuss or add! Thank you all!

  “History of Autism Treatment.” Applied Behavior Analysis Programs Guide, https://www.appliedbehavioranalysisprograms.com/history-autism-treatment/.

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

#The dreamer #villain!logan #Hero!roman #sanders sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #logan/roman #roman/logan #analysis #readerresponse #reaction #fanfiction

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5 Questions for Writers!

               5 Questions for Writers                                                        

I got tagged by @kunstpause, it looked like fun so figured I’d go for it! THANKS TO KUNST!

Tagging @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @peregrineroad, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @nozomikei​, and @rivenroad​. No obligation to anyone but full permission to steal granted to anyone else who might like to. I’ll literally be delighted if you pick this up spontaneously and blame me as an excuse lmao.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I made long answers so have a cut!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

It depends heavily on what fandom and where I am mentally, but I’ve figured out I tend to love writing angsty lameass dudes with blonde hair who are prone to doing really silly things despite taking themselves entirely too seriously. Honestly, I have a pretty huge track record at this point. Harvey Dent, Vexen, Dmitri, Lahabrea, probably more besides. Every one of them fits the right balance of lameass to angst. I like seeing them grow and find fulfillment as people and they are very very cute while still having an edge of badassery and cleverness. Also they’re funny.

Lahabrea is my favorite at the moment, and him reaching that position is an accomplishment considering how stiff the competition is in FFXIV. Loser tricked his way to the top while I was busy laughing at him.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I really, really, really love redemption arcs and people recovering from fucked up experiences. Latter case especially I love seeing characters in those situations successfully connect to the people and world around them, especially if they get to grow together with a partner. I also LOVE “hero saves the villain and villain takes it to heart”.

(You may be sensing a theme here haha.)

There are a few reason these concepts resonate with me, the first being I think they’re really hopeful, inspiring, and something I always wanted to see growing up but rarely did.

People fuck up in life. People get hurt in horrible ways that bring out the worst in them. Sometimes when that happens they dig themselves deeper and deeper into ugliness. The more a person’s bad side comes out, the more hopeless it can feel. And for mental illness especially I’ve found this can be a major issue.

Everyone makes mistakes and everyone has flaws, but I think there’s something really significant in seeing someone who has hit rock bottom, who can no longer imagine a way out, get offered a hand for support and take it. While recovery and redemption (not synonymous of course) ultimately need to be carried by the individual struggling, I really can’t understate how important it is to know in those situations that you’re not alone and someone believes in you.

I think a big part of why this theme is important to me is because mental illness, both genetic and due to trauma, is something unbelievably difficult and painful not only for the sufferer but those around them. The most mentally ill characters in fiction tend to be villains, and are disproportionately more likely to be suffering severe trauma. It frustrated me since I was pretty young to see over and over again cases where a mess could have been avoided if there was any support system in place.

Seeing compassion and connection given that kind of power means a lot to me, as does recognizing that villains are people before they are villains. It’s also very reassuring in the sense of “If this person fucked up that badly but still tried to better themself, I can too. And odds are I’m also worthy of love and compassion, even when my issues make things harder for others. I just have to keep working to improve.”

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Eff.

Straight up I think I’ve written too much to have just one favorite description. It’s been a lot of years and I have hundreds of fics and I’m lame. So I’m going to put a few of my favs.

Anytime there’s a gap in block quotes it’s a different section within the same fic.

22 - A Batman Fanfic

He trembles beneath the weight of their expectations but his smile never fades flashes before cameras microphones under his nose crowds screaming questions bleeding together he answers like clockwork the District Attorney who must bring justice to us all paying tribute to false idols with golden hair and silver tongues we the people bow down in worship to this guardian of the law with words and deeds I believe in Harvey Dent so he swears in hallowed halls to bring prosperity to smite the wicked to damn the criminal with authority invested in him by Gotham’s dutiful children and himself.

***

On the precipice of victory we stand united our voice raised like a torch like a spear like a golden arrow against the beast of Lerna we are gods and monsters we are so much more than good and evil we are order in the court cauterizing corruption our head held high and mighty manifest in Harvey of the doubletalk Harvey who writes himself into the fabric of Gotham’s history Harvey who will not bend before the Roman we command you the unworthy we condemn you the unrighteous we will not be merciful and you will fall before our eyes.

***

I am Dionysus divided at the altar of Tyche O Fortuna O Fortuna give me guidance in the light of the moon you dance sacred silver dollar I see and obey the wax and wane your whim Wheel of Fortune the card I am dealt your servant your slave venerated puppet of flesh blessed is your wisdom bestowed upon I am your disciple wine-mad twisted chanting your word becomes law holy splendor against gavels desecrating your name defiant in denial extend your will through me and we shall strike the innocent enlighten the ignorant or spare them all for now.

Doppelganger - A Spider-Man Fanfic

She asks him to tell the story of himself, and like Scheherazade he begins anew each day.

As with many other things, this comparison is imperfect. The Ravencroft Institute is hardly a palace and neither of them could pass for royalty. She sits in a chair across from him over a carpet the color of sawdust. Her walls are lined with insects pinned on display. Not many butterflies, quite a few beetles. On a bookshelf Dmitri sees The Metamorphosis nestled between non-fiction texts more relevant to her profession. He thinks maybe it's an inside joke she has with herself, but doesn't say so.

He's received an invitation to call her Ashley instead of Dr. Kafka and doesn't know whether to accept. It might be to make him more comfortable. It might be something else. In her late fifties Kafka is built from delicate features, and he suspects the lines around her eyes mean they crinkle when she smiles. Short black hair, beige suit, only jewelry a pair of diamond stud earrings. Dmitri thinks she looks like a mother, but not his.

Her weight sinks into leather, darker than the floor. The couch he rests on matches. He finds himself leaning forward with one elbow propped on his thigh, the other locked in a cast suspended by his neck. There is something reassuringly empty in the gray fabric of his uniform, cheap and utilitarian and harmless. Dmitri’s wrists are thin, but then he's lost a lot of weight recently. He probably wouldn't be able to run as fast as he used to, but then circumstances would be the same anywhere he went so that really doesn't matter. His espionage days are over. His free arm is shedding in flakes but at least his skin is dry. Clean.

Dmitri no longer looks like anyone, unrecognizable to himself. A face without much in the way of edges, short nose. Weak chin. Mismatched eyes that shift between green and blue and brown and every other natural hue as moments pass into minutes pass into hours. Dark blotches interrupt his forehead and chin. They will peel in new patterns across a span of days. For the most part though, he is pale enough to trace veins where his body seems on the brink of spilling out.

It's been a while since he shaved his head and the hair that grows back is almost foreign. An unruly mess of black, blond, brunet, and red—strands as unlike in texture as anything else. The mask that made him Chameleon was white plastic embedded with hardware. Left deformed after trying to resemble others in flesh too many times, it allowed him to duplicate any face, any body he could remember. More than holograms, the most complete sensory illusions technology could perform.

Without it, Dmitri feels stripped.

When Kafka looks at him she’s receiving constant signals and missing none of them. The moments he needs to turn away, flat monosyllabic turns of phrase he chooses or resorts to or blankly accepts as his own. It doesn’t have to be this way. It isn’t comfortable and he doesn’t even trust it’s not calculated. But she’s going to notice no matter what he does at this point, and lying about it doesn’t do anyone much good. They both know why he’s here.

***

“We were poor. We worked hard to keep ourselves fed and clothed and less than an embarrassment. I probably could have worked harder. Mother,” he begins before stumbling over himself.

The story he’s telling isn’t hers. Whatever else she was, Sonya Smerdyakov wasn’t Mrs. Bates. He remembers her voice as the beginning of an echo, forever following someone else’s lead.

And so he followed her.

She was bright like a light going out. She was gentle without being kind. Her fingers were short and delicate and she touched him as little as possible. He found her attention in the way she avoided his name.

***

In the privacy of his room, Dmitri began talking to himself.

Celebrities. Teachers. Children. The flat, steady rhythm of his father’s voice. The words and intonations favored by mother. Sergei’s laugh. He lost himself in a fantasy of conversations, strode through space to mimic confidence he didn’t feel, flashed teeth in front of his mirror like other people.

Once, Dmitri raised his voice. And when his older brother came, eyebrows knitting in confusion, he found himself full of stammered explanations, hands fumbling at his elbows, stumbling over his tongue to make sense of it.

Just making stories for himself. A game with no ending. That was all.

***

He would have died in that town under the eyes of speechless parents. Dmitri remembers the confusion that took his peers when he found a job for people who spoke for themselves. They thought he might be growing up.

He could lie. And when he began he understood it would always be a game with no ending.

Dmitri lost himself in a fantasy of conversations with real people and a voice that didn’t belong to him.

They asked a stranger to sign their yearbooks without even realizing it.

And then he was eighteen, and he left to continue elsewhere.

He didn’t announce his departure.

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It was probably a dream.

Lukewarm water crept down his throat, nearly making him choke. A skin pressed to his lips, insistent. He coughed, and for the first time there was moisture enough for resistance.

The face that obscured his vision was shrouded in white cloth. Cenric found he couldn’t focus on it. Mismatched eyes, one light and the other dark. Impossible to say if blindness caused the inconsistency.

A string of shells dangled from the figure’s neck, rattling gently. The skin pulled back for a moment. Careful. Patient.

It returned only once he'd grown quiet. Cenric drank for as long as he could. Impossibly, a great deal remained by the time he relinquished his hold.

There wasn't enough of him present to say thank you. Cenric barely registered being dragged, being carried onto a cart. Awareness was altogether gone by the time they started to move.

***

…to the blessed traders who enrich our lives we’re bound to pay with our lives in turn aether born fire-walker your will sees us to rest we entrust ourselves to your sight forged of oschon for peace and prosperity and an ending you do not weep for father azeyma lives in the earth with you her fan brings no breeze the air is hot and thick and breathless your domain a silent place that does not stir have you forgotten the sound of your own voice have you known what it is to live and fail have you been alone do you know what it is to die how can a god pass judgment without being judged nald’thal lord of departures of flame and sand whose coin purse overflows who knows not what it means to starve what it means to spoil the legacy of one who loved you nald’thal who holds shells and souls and precious stones as if their worth were equal nald’thal who cannot know mercy without knowing pain who are you to weigh mortal affairs?

***

In darkness he unwinds the black bandana, steps first from his slops and then his kurta. Yuyudana has provided robes, which rest neatly on a small rock nearby. It crosses Cenric’s mind that the bones of his knees, his hips, his wrists, even his face have all started to protrude strangely. He looks less hyuran than before, maybe less than he ever has. Closer to something priests would exorcise than anyone deserving aid.

He wonders if this idea has occurred to them.

The water, when he advances, is cold. Goosebumps raise across his skin as slowly, gingerly, he wades in to his waist.

Cenric ducks under.

His hair is a long and tangled wreck. Being wet only disguises this slightly. It drifts past his neck, comes to float near the surface. Cenric holds himself in silence, eyes open, watching the silver scatter of light over stones and plants and fish. He remains for as long as he can bear.

His vision stings afterward. Gasping, he can’t tell if the cause is exposure or something else. For a time he simply waits, breathing hard through his nose, hunched so that his lips are partially submerged.

He thinks of nothing, pretends that this time instead of no future he has no past.

Only one moon remains. Maybe the sky aches for losing Dalamud, but better that than the blow which scarred Eorzea.

Stalemate - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

He is presented with impressions of a horse, gaunt and fetid and decayed. Spreading ruin wheresoever it goes. Occasionally it sloughs off portions of its own flesh, which collect flies and blacken any land that surrounds. On its back rests a world, and alongside it does the herd struggle under their own burdens. But even beasts of such endurance have limits. Theirs are reached. When the rotten steed lags, its companions cannot afford to falter. Cannot turn. Without its ability to bear loads, this aberration has no place. Falling is inevitable.

Yet a heart still beats and lungs yet swell.

The Ascian shivers in his grasp, but does not attempt escape.

Here, something festers. Something bleeds. An old wound exacerbated over time.

Fevered, coated in a film of self-disgust, the core of Lahabrea convulses.

 Don’t…

 Don’t leave me like this…

***

Teeth and tongue. Lingering, wet, disembodied. Another finds his hip. Another his thigh, slipping beneath what clothes remain.

And another.

And another.

Warm, human, seeking. The Warrior tightens his hold, uses the moan crawling from his own chest as incentive. Barred by naught but fabric, driving close as he can manage. Lahabrea makes a strangled sound, his gasp crushed empty. A new mouth finds the dark knight’s ear in response.

These are parts of him no one dares touch, no one dares acknowledge. Slick now, attended with something like reverence. Supplication.

He resolves to fuck the Ascian senseless for this, presses his intent deep into Lahabrea’s aether. He is going to steal all his fancy words away. Make him squirm.

“I… I…” Tight, airless, like a plucked string. The Warrior feels Lahabrea’s voice reverberate against the roof of his mouth.

The feeling is difficult to describe. Cracked ice. A fraying rope. Such is Lahabrea's response, fumbling and disoriented as it is.

The Warrior lets go.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

Just imagine me weeping over here lmao. Same deal as before, I’VE DONE TOO MUCH SHIT.

Spare Change - A Batman Fanfic

"Stop," he gasps, "I wouldn’t—"

"You would Harvey. You did. It’s what makes you such a damn good instrument. You had to test yourself, prove that you’re not a real person.” He can feel fingers grinding against bone. His knees bend. Harvey kneels, shuddering, gazing up into the destruction of his own visage. Two-Face meets his eyes, blue on blue. “People are weak. People are ruled by what they want and don’t want. You’re capable of anything if the wind blows just right. You can’t even stop yourself.”

"I wouldn’t," he repeats, numbly.

"Did you," demands Two-Face, forcing him down further, "or did you not flip for their lives, Harvey Dent?"

"We…We aren’t the same people anymore."

"Of COURSE we’re the same people!" Another shove and he’s on the ground, Two-Face sitting on his chest, teeth bared, coin clenched tight between them. "Do you really think you can close your eyes and pretend you aren’t capable of these things? They’re alive," and there is something hideous in his expression, something certain, "because they were lucky. No other reason.”

"The coin is gone! Even if I wanted to listen to it—I can’t!”

"If you’re so sure," says Two-Face, "then how about you improvise?”

And with one motion the silver dollar is under his tongue, forced back so hard he feels himself gag and begin to choke before his eyes open.

The Inquisitor’s Letters - A Dragon Age: Inquisition Fanfic

To His Worship Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan of Skyhold, My name is Isell from Amaranthine and I’m seven. My mum is helping but says I can send you all by myself. Thank you for fixing the hole in the sky and also the one by the dead man’s house. There were demons but they’re mostly gone now and people are going outside now. Da says Amaranthine has been through too much and can survive anything and he says you’re an elf like us and the Hero of Ferelden was an elf too. He says people used to think elves can’t be heroes but now they don’t. Have you met the Hero of Ferelden? Also I heard that even though you’re Dalish Andraste helped you in the Fade and that humans let you be in the Chantry because anyone Andraste likes must be a really good person. What’s Andraste like? The Chant says a lot but it’s different meeting someone I think. Also I think I saw you a little before but Mum wasn’t sure because you had a helmet on and we were far away and there were a lot of people but I bet it was you. Da wasn’t sure I should write because he says the Dalish don’t like city elves like we are but I think you must be nice and Mum agrees with me. I’ve been playing demon hunters with my brother Arrion (he’s just five still) and Da said templars are who fights demons usually and elves can’t be templars. People thought elves couldn’t be heroes and inquisitors though and we are so I bet I could too. Is it hard fighting demons? Da says they’re real scary but I’m not scared. Thank you for helping us and everyone and I hope you kill lots of demons. Sincerely, Isell U’venlan

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

Cenric sits on the floor, draped in a white cotton tunic. It might have been snug on a Roegadyn but anyone else would find ample room. Behind him, Memesu stands on a cot holding shears. Gold earrings dangle on either side of her face.

“I fought at Carteneau, you know,” she mentions casually. There is a soft hsssssshhhh. Click.

Hair hits the floor. Coils.

He starts to shake his head, aborts the gesture partway through. Stills. “…you saw Bahamut?”

Memesu snorts. “I’m sure everyone this side of Hydaelyn saw Bahamut.” Click.

“That’s probably true,” he concedes. The dragon is what everyone knows, everyone remembers. He can't imagine the proximity. “What about the Warriors of Light?”

“Pff.” Gentle tugging at his scalp. Cenric does not open his eyes but leans into the motion. “I wasn’t of rank to see their like. Not that I’d remember. Stop moving.” Click.

Cenric hesitates.

“What do you remember, then?”

For a time, the only sound comes from blades and a thousand strands cut short. This lasts for several minutes. Cenric resigns himself to secrets.

Then, “I used to think I was special too. As a twin. My sister was Memeni. We studied together.”

 Was.

The exhale hits him slowly, quietly.

“She died?”

He can feel the shrug in her hip against his shoulder.

“It was Carteneau,” says Memesu. “Of course she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Click. “It had nothing too do with you. If you keep trying to claim responsibility for every misfortune you find, you’re going to get self-important.”

Cenric only grunts, quiet and non-committal.

 Click.

 Click.

 Click.

“Carteneu was so much worse than people remember. Only four years later and already we hurry to dispose of details.” There is a hard undercurrent to Memesu’s voice, but what contact she makes remains light. Careful. “I remember the arcanist from Limsa who didn’t dodge a magitek canon in time. Miqo’te. Spells come faster in that discipline, so there’s less stress on distance than thaumaturgy. Girl got careless.” Click. “The mess smelled like rotten eggs and charcoal. Her face was… melted.” Click. “I try not to look in those situations. They only make casting harder. But she was so close.”

Cenric doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.

Memesu continues. “One of our own gladiators, an Ala Mhigan, took to mutilating any pureblooded Garleans he could catch. The man had a string of eyes hanging around his neck. I’m pretty sure one enemy officer wet himself before he started to beg. Not that it particularly mattered.”

 Click.

“Memeni… didn’t anticipate what she was getting herself into. She saw magic as a way of being useful to craftsmen. My focus has always been theoretical. Right side.” Startled, Cenric lets her guide his jaw to get a better view of his profile. Click. Click. “Meni used to think I was a priss. She preferred to develop magitek kettles alongside alchemists. See if she could find a way to capture light like the Mhachi did. She still enjoyed fishing when she could, even though it smelled awful. Never outgrew the braids she wore growing up. ” Memesu sighs. “…just understand she died afraid, in pain, and with things left undone. My sister didn’t even resemble herself at the end.”

Cenric is very still. Thinks carefully.

“…I wish it could have gone differently,” he says at last.

Memesu’s mouth slides up in a small, crooked smile. She tousles the neat, ear-length hair before her. “So do I.”

Eclipse - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It ends at Elidibus’ untimely arrival.

“Lord Zodiark,” he says, so smoothly that were he not searching for it that the anger would be undetectable, “appreciates your attentions.”  His gaze does not waver from Lahabrea as he speaks. “But there is work to be done and I’m afraid there are words I would have with your Speaker.”

They disperse.

Nabriales, careful and curious, folds himself out of sight beyond the chamber then makes his way back to its edge.

Lahabrea, farthest from the exit, attempts to steal some small dignity. Turns to face Elidibus.

The Emissary makes him wait. Expressionless red masks matched by those who wear them.

Then, with more speed and force than typical for his demeanor, the Emissary closes distance to trap his colleague against the wall.

“It was my error,” hisses Elidibus, leaning in, “to have stayed silent upon rescuing you. A mistake I will remedy now, so we can be on no uncertain terms.”

Lahabrea lowers his eyes. Nabriales notes that despite the dread they all share of such reprimands, the man does not brace.

“You know as well as I that these words offer less succor to our Lord than action,” continues Elidibus, his fury quiet and no less sharp for that, “just as we both know your thoughtless action is the cause of repeated missteps these past centuries. Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.”

Silence.

“Do you truly think this is your best service to Him?” asks Elidibus. “To us? Compromising your ability to fill the hours? Even Emet-Selch agrees these displays are disgraceful. You have ever borne them poorly, but being a 'paragon among paragons' naturally you continue ignoring your own better judgment with ours to continue this exercise in futility. Idiot.”

A twitch of the head. Almost a flinch.

It is one of few moments Nabriales has seen the Emissary express his anger so openly. Even after the Thirteenth fell to Igeyorhm’s error, Elidibus allowed the Angel of Truth to lead and voiced his own reproach with a more typical icy demeanor. Scathing though it was.

“I can be of use,” says Lahabrea softly. “Only three of us remain, and I—“

“You,” Elidibus snaps, “cannot follow the most simple instructions for the good of us all. Not for Him, not for Amaurot, not even for yourself. Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.”

Neither man speaks for several moments after that.

And then, at length, Elidibus exhales.

Says the Speaker’s name.

Receives his attention.

“What would you have me do?” the Emissary asks. His tone now is almost weary. “Clearly it would be unreasonable to trust you’d simply listen. Must I mind you like a child?” This is what breaks Lahabrea’s composure.

Knowing the man’s temper, Nabriales had expected him to lash out. Even on the back foot their orator is perfectly capable of defending himself from insults.

Instead, he embraces Elidibus fiercely—face just within the bounds of his pauldrons. Jaw locked shut firmly enough to hurt. Expression downcast.

Elidibus remains perfectly still at first. In the absence of conversation it is possible to hear the rush of Lahabrea’s breathing. Only through the nose, withheld briefly between each inhale as if that offers some means to steady himself.

As if that would make it better.

Tentatively, Elidibus holds him back. Lahabrea's fingers contract, and though he remains upright when his knees begin to give it is the Emissary who helps him kneel.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and Lahabrea removes one hand to run it reflexively over his face—coming against the mask.

Nabriales finds himself staring, searching. A puzzle with missing pieces whose image he may yet divine

“It was not,” says Lahabrea roughly, “my intention to…”

Elidibus reaches beneath the other man’s cowl, finds the hair and skin beneath. Draws him in once more.

Naught that would be shared with or among the Sundered. Nothing so personal as that.

Nabriales has worn his own share of flesh. Bedded lovers, adopted companions and families of vessels to fulfill a purpose. Passable enough, perhaps, but never for him. Not in truth.

It’s as if he looks upon two strangers.

Parched - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

The door closes behind them. Lahabrea, projecting his preferred likeness over the host, waits on a couch within.

It’s admittedly a surreal sight. Ishgardian finery with its gilded edges, its elaborate wallpapers and marble floors. A collection of creams and blues and greens, fine furniture with velvet seat cushions. All ostentatious in the extreme… and then Lahabrea. Masked and cowled. Pouring three glasses of La Noscean arrack.

Elidibus freezes, and though none of them can see his eyes the confusion is clear enough.

“What is this?”

“Your turn,” says Emet-Selch, lightly but less flippant than he might have been.

Lahabrea proffers a cup from where he sits.

Elidibus neither moves nor speaks.

Emet-Selch approaches. Takes the drink. Presses it carefully into the other man’s hand.

“Don’t think,” he says smoothly,” that I won’t let you drop it.”

Mercifully, Elidibus has a good grip.

“Sit,” says Lahabrea, gesturing with his own glass to the sofa across from him.

Elidibus sits.

Emet-Selch sits.

Takes his own glass, perhaps a bit pointedly.

Elidibus’ mouth is pressed tight. It opens briefly, as if to speak. Shuts again.

“Explain,” the Emissary manages eventually.

Lahabrea meets his co-conspirator’s eye. Downs his arrack in a single attempt.

It is a long attempt.

It lasts several moments.

The other Ascians watch.

“Elidibus,” says Emet-Selch as Lahabrea endeavors to catch his breath in the aftermath, “Lahabrea and I are concerned that you may be experiencing some difficulties in recent years.”

“I’m fine,” replies Elidibus coldly. Holding his drink. “Why did you think this necessary?”

“Because—“ wheezes Lahabrea.

“Because you’re practically a mammet,” says Emet-Selch, picking up Lahabrea’s glass. Moving it just out of reach. “Truly. It’s been what, two hundred years? Three? Neither of us can remember the last time you so much as spoke of matters unrelated to the Rejoining.”

Lahabrea reaches. Elidibus pours his arrack into the other man’s glass before nudging it back toward him.

Elidibus makes eye contact with Emet-Selch.

“I remain focused,” he says evenly. “Nothing more.”

Emet-Selch gestures to the bottle.

Elidibus sighs.

Refills his own glass.

“There are matters I must attend myself. As is the case with each of you.”

“Undoubtedly,” replies Lahabrea more evenly. “But with few exceptions, you haven’t done so.”

A hard stare from behind the mask.

“What would you have me do? I can’t very well take time off.”

Emet-Selch sips.

“A negligible amount of time,” he says, “taken sparingly, may be forgivable.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

Lmao see this is a plus side/minus side deal. Minus side, it’s being asked just before I embark on a MASSIVE ASS FANFIC. And I basically am excited for all of it. Plus side, there are things I refuse to spoil.

So... putting it vaguely, in no particular order:

- Lahabrea and Hydaelyn meet a second time after Praetorium.

- Moonfire Faire

- Thancred

- Conversations over mulled wine

- Silvertear Lake

Some of these are sex scenes. Most aren’t. But I am very hyped.

[godzillajuniorreborn]

Godzilla King of the Monsters review

In memory of my father. Even though we didn't always see eye-to-eye, without him, I would've never become the fan of Godzilla I am today. Thanks, Dad.

Here it is, my belated review of the recent American Godzilla movie that serves as the sequel to Gareth Edwards' 2014 cinematic reboot and the third installment in the Monsterverse. I saw this movie on Sunday with my mom and brother. Let me just say this to the critics who bashed this movie. I am so sorry this movie doesn't pander to your standards. I'm sorry this movie doesn't exactly have a hidden agenda for you to latch on to. I'm sorry this movie was made for the fans of Godzilla and Kaiju in general. But, you should have known, after seeing the trailers, this movie was going to be a monster slugfest. I also find your critiques very hypocritical since you're more willing to bash this movie yet give praise to the MCU despite those movies not being in the realm of reality. With that said, let's get on to the review.

Story: Five years have passed since mankind bore witness to the rise of Godzilla and the very staggering realization that monsters do exist. Now, humanity is aware of the gigantic beasts known as Titans. However, a dark plan to overthrow humanity and return the rule of Earth to the Titans is underway as an eco-terrorist and rogue Monarch agent let loose a powerful, dragon-like Titan locked away within Antarctica named King Ghidorah whose very presence can summon Category 6 hurricanes all over the world. As humanity faces a worldwide monster apocalypse, Monarch finds itself in a race against time to stop the evil Ghidorah as Godzilla and the other Titans, including the lepidopteran Mothra and the pterosaur-like Rodan, are on a collision course for a battle to decide the fate of the world and who reigns on top as "King of the Monsters".

Let's start with the cons. Just a warning, there WILL be spoilers:

1. The pacing: The first half of the movie feels like it goes a little bit too fast. In the first thirty minutes, we are introduced to Mothra, Ghidorah's awakening in Antarctica as well as his first battle with Godzilla, Rodan's introduction, Godzilla getting incapacitated by the Oxygen Destroyer, and Ghidorah taking control over the other Titans. Luckily, the movie slows down in the second act and allows the audience to catch their breath.

2. Not a lot of Titans: Despite the movie having a total of about twenty Titans, the only ones to get any screen time dedicated to them are the Main Four (Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan, and King Ghidorah) as well as four new monsters (Behemoth, Scylla, Methuselah, and Bosmuto). That's a total of eight Kaiju out of at least twenty with the majority either being names on computer screens or a cameo from Kong. In addition, Rodan and Mothra don't appear that much in the film, mostly taking a backseat to Godzilla and King Ghidorah.

3. Some scenes feel incomplete: For example, there is a scene where Madison (Millie Bobby Brown's character) steals the ORCA, a device meant to communicate with Titans designed by her mother and father, and she does so with little to no effort at all, despite it being a key component in Alan Jonah's (Charles Dance's character) plans. You'd think for such a key instrument, he'd have someone at least guarding it. Heck, in the novelization, there's one guy protecting it who Madison takes out with a taser. In the movie, Maddie just swipes the device with no opposition whatsoever.

4. Emma Russell's Plan: In this movie Emma Russell (Vera Farmiga), after losing her son Andrew to Godzilla during the Battle of San Francisco, apparently went mad and decided to give the planet back to the Titans and is working with Alan Jonah, a former army colonel turned eco-terrorist to set about bringing forth a Kaiju apocalypse by setting loose the Titans from their hibernation and having them fix the planet's ecosystem. Yeah, while it is obvious she's being driven by five years worth of grief and she's not in the right mental state, here are two things wrong with her plan (Heck, even Jonah who is the film's main human villain calls her out on this.):

The Titan you have spear-heading this operation is a three-headed dragon who we later find out is from space and was so feared, ancient people refused to go into depth about him (which should be a major red flag that nobody wants to even acknowledge his existence).

Emma says the radiation brought up from the Titans results in new plant-life. Okay, this lady clearly hasn't heard of the effects radiation has on plant-life. Three words: Red. Forests. Chernobyl.

Granted, she kinda gets proven right, for as soon as the Titans are free, the world gets better, but, she was still willing to kick-start global genocide. When a former British Colonel turned eco-warrior is calling you out on your crap, then something's gone wrong.

Now, the pros:

1. The four main Kaiju: Godzilla, Rodan, Mothra, and King Ghidorah are all perfectly realized. As much as I loved the 2014 reboot, I felt like Godzilla could've had a few more scenes to it to flesh out his character. Here, Godzilla is the main character and we get a better grasp at his personality: a weathered, determined king who feels the weight of keeping the natural order in balance on his shoulders. Speaking of personalities, the other three Toho Kaiju have their own distinct personalities, though one gets a category on his own (and I'm pretty sure you know which one) with the stand outs being Rodan who has a hot-headed rogue feel to him but tends to showcase his loyalty to the current Alpha Titan while Mothra is purely benevolent and seems to have a touch of Anguirus' personality with her being loyal to Godzilla alone. I also think this may be the most aggressive incarnation of the Goddess of Peace since GMK.

2. King Ghidorah: The 1991 Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah film was the first Godzilla movie I ever saw, thus King Ghidorah was the first Godzilla villain I saw and he was TERRIFYING. I mean, he's a three-headed dragon the size of a building, that alone is scary. Michael Dougherty succeeded in reminding me why Ghidorah was a nightmare of my childhood. This version of the King of Terror is the most evil I've seen of the character, even more so than Grand King Ghidorah (and that's saying a lot considering that version of Ghidorah was willing to kidnap kids so he could suck them of their life-force as a snack). I like how each of his three heads have their own personalites; the center head being the cold, calculating, arrogant leader, the right head is smarter yet also more aggressive, and the left is an over-achieving, psychotic manchild that has to be kept in line by the center head. In addition, this is the one film villain of 2019 who is evil just for the sake of being evil. There is NOTHING worth sympathizing over. For starters, he's an alien dragon (Yeah, that's right, alien.They don't mince words on that either.) who wants to terraform Earth into his own liking (and it's implied he's done this to other planets as well). He has no conscience, no sympathy, no empathy, and no mercy. He's evil. Nothing more, nothing less. Putting it simply, Ghidorah is that one villain whom you're going to love simply on the grounds of how despicable he is.

3. The Music: The score for the movie by Bear McCeary is excellent. In addition to the classic Ifukube themes for Godzilla and Mothra, it also gives themes for Rodan and Ghidorah that fit them with Rodan having a fast-paced, bombastic theme and Ghidorah having a theme with the Heart Sutra as part of his leitmotif that makes him feel all the more demonic.  I also like the heroic theme given to Monarch.

4. The Human Characters: IMO, I found the human characters surprisingly likable and engaging. They were fleshed out (well, much more than you'd expect in a typical Godzilla movie) and had their own story arcs. My favorite characters would have to be Ishiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe), Ilene Chen (Zhang Ziyi), Alan Jonah, and Rick Stanton (Brad Whitford).  Rick especially since his jokes are actually pretty good. I also like Alan considering he's not your typical Godzilla human villain who wants to use the Orca and turn the Titans into weapons of war, rather, he comes off more as a Miyazaki villain like Kushana or Lady Eboshi, in that he has good intentions (he's sick and tired of humanity's nonsense and it would be better if the Titans took back the planet), it's just his execution of this plan involved the near extinction of human civilization and the reliance on a three-headed, psychotic dragon from space. Also, Mark Russell (Kyle Chandler) is pretty much the anti-Haruo Sakaki. He holds a grudge against Godzilla, but even then he knows it's downright suicidal to try and fight him and, in the end, realizes the Big G's the only thing standing in the way of Ghidorah's machinations. Heck, some of his actions save more people as opposed to Haruo whose blind hatred towards Godzilla got people killed.  

5. NO! POLITICAL! AGENDA!: Seriously, am I the only one sick of seeing overly PC elements in movies nowadays? I mean, I get it, there should be more representation, but when those themes bring a film to a screeching halt, it feels more like propaganda posing as entertainment. Luckily, KOTM doesn't do that. If anything, it sticks closer to the themes of the Godzilla franchise (coexistence with Nature and what not) and the only political jab it made was a mention of a Titan attacking Stone Mountain. However, it's so brief and so quick, you'd miss it and it wouldn't change a damn thing. Heck, the only actual politics in the movie is a conference scene you'd expect to see in a Godzilla film. Not only that, but none of the main female characters (Emma, Madison, Ilene etc) are Mary Sues, not even Mothra who is the most powerful of the main female leads (yes, Mothra is technically a character) is all powerful. Emma, despite her stupid, STUPID plan, is clearly not thinking straight due to five years of mourning her son and going extreme with Serizawa's belief of the Titans bringing balance to Earth clearly isn't helping. So, yeah, this movie isn't trying to get Woke points, it's trying to tell a story.

6. The Action Sequences: Aside from one scene, most of the action in this movie is probably some of the best out of any Godzilla film, heck, it's some of the best action I've seen in a Kaiju movie in general. And, trust me, if the anime Godzilla trilogy left a bad taste in your mouth (not that I blame you), you can rest comfortably that we get a proper fight between Godzilla and King Ghidorah. Also, this is the first time we get to see Godzilla and Ghidorah really go at it.

Overall:

This movie was exactly what I wanted to see from an American Godzilla film. It was also the nice little pick-me-up after the utter disappointment that was the anime Godzilla trilogy. Frankly, I think Kong better have something up his sleeves when he and Godzilla have their cinematic rematch next year.

#ooc #godzilla #godzilla: king of the monsters #king ghidorah #rodan #mothra #monsterverse #review

[maevelin]

Episode 1x05

1. Five has lived such a hard life. Truly. And in the end all that it mattered to him was to get back to save his family. He is such a cynic but he genuinely cares!

And he literally is a master assassin! That alone makes him one of my faves! 

Seriously though....An adult that is a master assassin trapped in a child’s body. Dude that’s rough LOL...Although imagine the options!

Although he does get a second chance and I feel that despite everything he may be the most emotionally balanced and driven person from their group.  Which does not say much because they are all messed up big time so even in comparison we are still talking about a mess but yeah.

Let us face it. He is the only one that actually seems to pay attention to his siblings. Klaus most of all. He actually bothers to ask and care for his well being too. Sure he is also interested in the time travel part but he actively cares for his family despite how smug he can be and how big his ego is. He is also jaded from time too but still has a heart. He is wise too.

And at least Five can see the bigger picture here. This is why I think has a plan otherwise he wouldn’t follow the handler that easily.

Although his only perspective is not the way to go. He needs more than what he can do alone. He needs his family. Not just to save them. But to let them save him too. Together to save the world.

Which reminds me.

“That’s murder.

...Jesus Luther, grow up”

Should I point out that Luther’s spiel about a code makes no sense when he does not have any? Not truly. Sure he has some morals here and there but are they his? His code was only the indoctrination he received form daddy dearest. At least everyone else took some distance and tried to form their own personalities. He remained the dutiful son. I wonder how is that working out of him lol

And he is so desperate to take upon the mantle of the leader...like dude chill. And if we go by age at this point you could try see past appearance if you are leader material and acknowledge that Five is actually much older than you and take that under consideration instead of dismissing him mentally because you only see your kid brother.

At this point I feel that the only genuine emotions he has separate from his father are the incestuous feelings he has for his sister which is twisted on its own even more than the rest. I mean...

2. The end of everything?...Not everything...the end of something.

I admit that’s interesting. Also I always find it amusing. For every dystopian futuristic apocalypse humans act as if everything in earth is their survival and theirs alone when in reality either way Earth goes on and maybe even in better conditions without the human race in it. We are never humble when we imagine such a future are we?

3. Klaus....KLAUS.

Sure...let me start a new show I say...let me enjoy a new series I say... let me let it break my heart, rip it out of my chest and stomp all over it!

The scene comes with Klaus in the bus and I am in pieces. I can’t! And then the pain keeps on coming!

I can’t believe that all his siblings ever saw him as a joke when he is obviously hurting as much as they do if not more. And now...now it is all coming to a head and they still do not see it. Klaus barely moves and he talks slowly and is silent and looks as if he has quit life and they still don’t see it Unless he breaks down in front of them in all the dramatic crying and spell it out for them they don’t realize it. 

Five saw it . Diego had time to see it but even that had to be stretched thin for him to actually see his brother suffering. 

How can Klaus’ pain be so invisible to his family? How is that even possible? 

And the show keeps breaking him more and more and I...

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS SHOW THAT THEY HAVE TO KEEP HURTING KLAUS SO MUCH AND LIKE THAT? WHY???? HE DOES NOT DESERVE THAT! LEAVE HIM ALONE! STOP!

My boy is so depressed. In pieces. Suffering from PTSD of all sorts. 

And...Dave. HOLY SHIT! That picture. The sounds of the bombs...The war...Klaus is a Veteran...he served in the war...and is now suffering loss and post traumatic effects. SHIT!

OMFG! I CAN’T DO THIS! IT HURTS SO MUCH! 

I would like to add that I would also pretty much appreciate it if when Klaus says someone tortured him ...for others to actually oh I don’t know...MAYBE ACKNOWLEDGE IT?

- Kudos to the actor for his acting! Either it is his dramatic acting or his comedic timing. He owns it! 

3.5. Klaus’ and Diego’s scenes WERE PRICELESS!

And that ice cream truck scene..go faster!....WEEHEEEEE!

I Couldn’t stop laughing LMAO

4. I am getting more and more attached with Diego. His stutter and his anger. I liked the potential her had with Eudora and I got sad in the last episode when she died but as I watch the episode now I feel that as a plot it is the kind of one that serves for a male character’s pain and was a bit unnecessary. I don’t like the disposable woman trope for the sake of male development and here it feels so not needed because I am relating with Diego for reasons that don’t have anything to do with Eudora’s loss. His speech issues, his anger, the way he viewed his mom, his scenes with Luther and Klaus. All these things make him interesting and show layers in him. Sure I get his pain with Eudora now but they could have gone without that and I could have kept the ship you know!

Anyhow I start to relate to Diego a lot. And the fact that he actually bothered to ask Klaus if he was okay and then followed him and helped him surely helped me liking him even more. And they connected over their loss which is probably very rare for them to do so if it has even happened before (although we still get in the way the tragic bury your gays trope and the fridging of female characters)...but all in all when Klaus opened up to Diego and Diego was there...it broke my heart but also mended it a little bit too.

BROWNIE POINTS FOR THEIR BRAWL! GO GO GO! 

I think what in the end wins me over with Diego is that he gives the most sibling vibe out of every other sibling in the sense that when you pair him with any of the brothers and the sisters you immediately get the sibling vibe either it is the funny kind or the annoying kind or the strained kind. The caring is there, the annoying each other is there, the I am the one to mess with my family but no one else is allowed is there, I will kick their asses but I will always have their backs is there, the I can’t stand them is there etc. He fights with Luther and they ignite each other and you still see the brothers. Same with Klaus now. I got glimpses with Five. Even with Vanya even when he called her a liability while still being angry with her. With Allison too to an extent. That kind of dynamics with him work perfectly. 

I have seen him so far with his family and I just feel like how is how brothers act with each other or how a brother acts with their sisters and so on and with Diego is effortless.

5. The thing with Vanya will not end well. It can’t be a coincidence that she is getting her powers only days before the apocalypse.

So if she was taking the pills from her childhood it means that her abusive dad got her hooked on them and once she cuts them she gets energetic and happy and has a sharper edge to the way she perceives the world. And as always in such shows powers are related to emotions. Now that she is off the meds she gets her make up, she gets more confident in her responses, she is succeeding. And with the creepy guy giving her calculated nudges she opens up more and more. So the drugs kept her subdued? Why? There was a ripple when she was playing the violin. So she has powers too powers that were hibernating because of the drugs. 

And the end scene with the ripple going all through town...in the creep’s attic next to the violinist he killed was the book Klaus’ threw away in the pilot right? The one Pogo was looking? Their dad’s book. So it has something to do with Vanya and her powers that are now awakening.

How did her father screw up with her too? At this point it is more or less finding the ways their dad didn’t mess them up instead of the other way around.

6. Pogo and Grace. Something is definitely up and of course it all ties together with the end of the world right? 

And Diego had to be right. Mom is feeling things for sure.

7. Luther’s attitude tires me a lot even though I get where he is coming from. He is just so...righteous? In a weird way. And has the kind of alpha male traits I find off putting.  

8. I am finding Allison boring for the most part of it. The moment she is not in a scene I seem to forget she exists if I am being honest here so I can only hope that her arc is leading into something big.

9. Hazel and that waitress are kind of cute.

P.s: 

- That bar fight! LOL...Klaus HEAD BUTTING ASSHOLES and jumping on backs to get into the brawl! 

“I would like to apologize that you are depriving some village OF THEIR IDIOT!”

YEAH BABY! And the difference between him staying out of fights and throwing fire extinguishers in the first episode and now going all in. My baby has grown! 

- Loved the Easter eggs we got with the people/historical figures Five actually killed.

#the umberella academy #Klaus Hargreeves #Five #Five Hargreeves #Diego Hargreeves #Vanya Hargreeves #Ben Hargreeves #Luther Hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #tua #fel watches tua #spoilers #1x05 #hazel #cha cha

[basic-bb-asks]

For our amazing Flowy - how much longer until it's been a year since you started this awesome ask blog? Also, what was the big inspiration for you to start it?

Well, I made the blog sometime in june last year, but my first post was on the 29th!

A little over a month until the year anniversary, June 29th.

My original inspiration to start my this blog was just the fact that it was summer. It was a day like today when i had like 4 hours of sleep and no impulse control because of it. I had another ask blog going at the time, my old My singing monsters blog that Willow came from. I just loved the concept, and I was watching GoodmorningBaldimore and Basic-mathematics do things, and i just fell in love. I pitched the idea to a friend, and she and I became Mod Sock and Mod Playtime.

I actually came up with a plan to get as popular as I could as fast as possible. I’m surprisingly calculating when tired. I’m impulsive, but all my risks are thought about first. Which is why my first post has so much effort put into it, and we posted an animated GIF to get people’s attention. My first 3 asks were sent by me, actually. The more gif, the more high quality things, the more people stuck around. Apparently, it worked.

Eventually, Mod Playtime left the blog. This was good, for both of us, she wanted to focus on school and mental health, and i wanted to have complete freedom over my stories again. So I introduced Death, made Baldi (now Willie) Heart. He was now connected with 999 other stories.

Playtime was officially a character now. Instead of just hinting at it, I got the adoption arc over with.

And then I rewatched Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go again. It.... gave me ideas. 

-mod snuf

#mod speaks #sbpiano1059

[rohirric-hunter]

Insight World -- Chapter 3

AO3 FF.net

Chapter 1 ● Chapter 2 ● Chapter 3  ● Chapter 4 ● Chapter 7

July 27th, 2010

Steve Rogers had always been good at applicable geometry. As a child he had beaten all of his playmates so soundly at marbles that they eventually banned him from games. As a teen he had paid for medicine and sometimes even rent by showing up at pool halls and intentionally playing badly, then driving the betting pool up and taking all the other players to school. And in his twenties he had become Captain America, and he had learned how to hone and weaponize skills he already had in order to bring down enemies on the battlefield.

Aiming his shield was easy. Steve ran his mental calculations three times, just to be sure, as there was no room for error, but he was right the first time. His shield cleared the heads of the people in front of him, bounced off the nearest pillar on the Lincoln Memorial, and then sharply turned downwards and shattered the guard’s hand, clattering to the ground between the guard and Stark, surrounded by pieces of the gun.

The people split in front of him like the Red Sea. Men in riot gear decorated with Hydra patches started toward him. Steve pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired it into the row of men before they could fully prepare themselves. The first three dropped dead immediately, but the fourth managed to raise a bulletproof riot shield. Steve lowered his gun without wasting the shot and ran forward instead, leaping into the air at the last minute and landing his entire weight on the top of the shield. The man behind it was crushed into the pavement. A fifth guard pointed a pistol of his own around the edge of his shield. Steve shot the hand holding the pistol and then spun around, running toward Iron Man and the guards standing around him.

There had been six guards, each with a weapon of some sort trained on the prisoner, but now there were only three, and even as Steve ran forward one of them raised a gun and fired twice in quick succession. The other two guards crumpled and the last one turned on Pierce, who had already raised a gun of his own and pointed it at the man. Steve reached the top of the steps and scooped up his shield, sliding it onto his arm. He turned back to the crowd as bullets rat-tat-tatted against the surface of his shield. One of the riot guards holstered his handgun and hoisted up an eerily familiar weapon. Steve dodged the energy bolt from the Tesseract-enhanced weapon and shot the man holding it. A gunshot sounded behind him and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the guard take a shot at Pierce, who dove out of the way, too late to dodge the bullet entirely. Clutching his arm, he ducked inside the Memorial. Steve toyed with the idea of throwing his shield after him, but the sight of Tony Stark bending over to get a gun from one of the dead guards reminded him that he had not come here to stop Alexander Pierce.

“Cover me!” he shouted to the guard, whose features were still hidden by the mask of a high-ranking Hydra agent. “Put your hands on the ground and spread them out,” he said to Stark.

“You weren’t part of the plan,” the guard observed as he fired at approaching enemies.

Steve slammed the edge of his shield into the ground between Stark’s hands, shattering the link that held the cuffs together.

“Yeah, ‘cause you clearly had everything under control,” Stark said. He picked up a gun and added to the defensive fire. “I like the plan where I don’t get shot. Speaking of plans, did you have an exit plan? Either of you?”

“Head out the north side,” the guard said.

Steve turned and glanced between the colossal pillars and the wall, putting the gun back in his pocket in preparation to use his shield with both hands. The escape route was already full of police with riot shields. A quick look confirmed that the south side was as well. “Not an option,” he said. “They’re trying to block us in.” Both groups were coming closer, and a line was assembling at the foot of the steps.

“Change of plans, Natasha,” the guard said. “Bring the car around front. Watch out for civilians. There are still a few stragglers.” Most of the so-called stragglers were huddled together with phones out, pointed at the three men at the top of the steps. “Get down the steps!” he shouted.

Steve threw his shield, taking out a Hydra agent who had lowered his shield just a little too much. It bounced off a pillar and he caught it as it came back. As the three of them started down the steps, their enemies closed in faster. The guard and Stark went on ahead, while Steve followed up the rear, covering himself with his shield and taking out following guards. His gun ran out of bullets after five shots, and he dropped the magazine. Before he could reload with the spare magazine in his back pocket, he spotted another agent raise an energy weapon. The gun clattered to the ground as he grabbed Stark with his free hand and jerked him to the side. The energy bolt shot over the heads of the civilians, who scattered, babbling as they did so.

A black Prius circled around the monument from the north and pulled to a halt near the prison truck. The passenger side window rolled down and a woman leaned out, a gun in each hand, and started shooting the riot guards at the bottom of the steps, most of whom were facing away from her. “Always changing plans at the last minute, Clint,” she shouted.

“Oh, you know me,” the guard said. “Just can’t make up my mind on these things.” He ran down the last few stairs, shooting two guards in his path, threw open the passenger side door, and jumped into the car. Stark followed, and Steve slammed the door shut just in time for a few bullets to bounce off of it.

“Who the hell is this?” the woman asked as she hit the gas, twisting around the south side of the Memorial.

The guard, Clint, pulled his mask off and ran his hand through short brown hair. “Who the hell are you?” he asked Steve.

“I’m Captain America,” Steve said, distracted by a pain in his left arm. He slid his shield off his arm and discovered that one of the straps had cut through the fabric of his shirt and sliced into the skin just above the inside of his elbow. It was red and swollen, but not deep, so he ignored it and snapped his attention up to the other people in the car. The woman was driving, but the two men were staring at him, two pairs of eyebrows climbing skyward. “It’s a long story,” he said.

The car shook as it drove over a low median. “We weren’t planning on shooting our way out of this one,” the woman said. “Stark, I need you to try to calibrate the license plate camouflage.”

Stark started to climb over the console. “You haven’t gotten that up and running yet?” he asked.

“Johnson and Tortels were caught a couple of months back because their blue Ford F-150 matched to a hot pink Thunderbird’s plate,” Clint offered.

“What year?” Stark asked as he slid into the seat, popped open the glovebox, and pried open a panel inside. “Some Thunderbird models have similar unused fuel levels. That might be confusing the emissions sensor.” Inside the panel was a small screen with a keypad. Stark started tapping away. “I don’t suppose we have time to make a pit stop at the hardware store? I need some palladium.”

“Dare I ask what for?” Clint asked.

“They’ve got a read on my arc reactor’s energy signature. I can make it some better shielding when I get tools, but until then I’m a walking tracking device. If I replace the core with palladium the signature will be different enough that they should lose it.” Stark grabbed a small screwdriver from the glovebox and pried the screen off of the panel, revealing a motherboard beneath it.

“Get rid of it,” said the woman. “We came prepared.” She reached into the console and pulled out a round glowing blue object. “Your last model. The energy signatures should be different enough.”

“Exactly how often do you go rooting through my trash, Romanoff?” Stark asked. He leaned back to pull up his shirt and twist something in his chest. A few seconds later, he lifted a similar glowing blue circle away from himself, trailing coiled wires. Once he had it out, Romanoff rolled down the passenger side window. Stark chucked the arc reactor out of it without a second glance.

“Wow,” said Barton. “I thought you were gonna make a bigger deal out of that.”

“I have to make some changes to the design,” Stark said. “Nothing significant, just enough to confuse them if they get their hands on it again. Power feedback loops, Trojan horse protocols. They studied the hell out of that. Couldn’t reproduce it, of course.” He slid the new reactor into the hole the old one had left and pulled his shirt down again. “Still don’t want to walk around with a powerhouse they have the blueprints to in my chest.”

Bullets bounced off the back of the car. Steve glanced over his shoulder to see the prison van in pursuit. As the woman slammed on the brakes and turned them onto another street, a military vehicle with a gun mounted on top came from the other direction. “We’ve got almost a mile to go before we can get on the interstate,” Romanoff said. “Clint, get them off our trail, will you?”

Clint nodded and leaned forward. He opened a case under the driver’s seat and retrieved a quiver of arrows from it, slinging it across his back. Then he leaned down and got a bow. A press of a button opened a sunroof over the back seat, and he put his head through it and then immediately pulled it back down as a hail of bullets hit the top of the car. “Cap,” he said. “Want to give me some cover?”

Steve nodded and climbed, shield first, out of the sunroof, then slid down the back window until his feet hit the spoiler. He braced himself there. Bullets bounced off his shield, and Clint popped up behind him and notched an arrow. The shield covered both of them until Clint straightened up to look over it, inhaling quickly and smoothly as he did. For a split second he stood upright, bow drawn fully back, and then he released the string. The arrow hit the prison truck in the tire and exploded and the vehicle swerved off the road, across a stretch of grass and a walking path, and crashed into the Potomac. Steve peered over his shield to see that now there were two military vehicles behind them. Even as he watched, the archer behind him took another one out. This one went across the median into the other lane of traffic, which was fortunately mostly empty. One car slammed on its brakes in time to prevent the airbags from going off, but not in time to prevent its front bumper from being crushed. The man standing in the back of the military vehicle took a few shots at them as they drove away, but soon it was left far behind.

The last car tried to weave back and forth, but to no avail. Its driver steered them to the median and managed to stop almost entirely on it, just as Romanoff started to merge onto the highway. Clint ducked down into the car and Steve followed, dropping onto the back console and then shifting into the right seat. Clint was putting his bow away.

“There will be more waiting for us on the other side of the river,” he said, just as the entrance ramp ended and they merged into traffic.

Stark replaced the panel in the glovebox. “And by then, there will be at least six other cars they’ll need to check out. The emissions sensors weren’t calibrated closely enough, but now this should only match with other Priuses. Color’s gonna have to wait until I can get under the car. Hey Romanoff, don’t drive next to any hot pink Priuses.” He closed the glove box and leaned back. “Don’t all thank me at once.”

Chapter 1 ● Chapter 2 ● Chapter 3 ● Chapter 4 ● Chapter 7

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu au #fanfiction #au #insight world #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #alexander pierce #hydra

[valgasnewsthings]

4.7 Carcase taping for neck and platysma.

 As for begin let s knew,what is muscle as platysma.Crete on means flat,as this therm entered by Doctor from Rome ,anatomist  Claudius Galen are  on the 130-200 years.

Platysma is under skin muscle of neck, thin and width muscle plate is in the front  neck side.Stretching from a breast a clavicle lower to the low jaw .Close a front neck part,where is skin stretching and adding to the muscles of skin in mouth corners. As in Shortening she is pull back skin of neck and low jaw down. And on the face displaying expression as disgust.And platysma not taking part in a usual moves of neck and head.She is loading just in a big physical conditions and mental worries, angry strong, crazy horrors, strong ache. And in this moment muscle pull a skin of low face part and mouth corner in a side and down. And on the neck in shortening she is visible ,as longitudinal, going is on the stroke are tissues roller as up and down, outside and inside and forming om the skin are horizontal folds and wrinkles. Under skin muscle of neck is interesting,that defining an all outer neck kind and chin partially.And neck is showing for us an our true age.

A habit for bad posture as walking with a low head,sitting long time before a TV, phone or computer are worsening for blood circulation in neck side and fat depositing  in under chin side and double chin is very visible. And a first of all are wrinkles displaying of a high weak a under skin muscle as a one importance reason for worsening a skin of neck quality is wrong posture.

As on real time we are looking in our legs or under legs, and not in the sky,thus a work in platysma is not having and of forcing inactivity she weak, becoming as sluggish, sagging, and stops skin pulls. And with this method we can create are less visible horizontal wrinkles are on the neck as Venus rings, relax Sternocleidomastoid muscle, strengthen platysma, as she is provoke edemas and sagging for a low 1/3 a face -is double chin , flews,bulldog s cheeks, correct a static and head put for a calculation a supporting  effect helps to tight a skin .Also remove edemas,which are displaying in over loading a clavicle muscle,fighting ptosis, tight face oval and remove a fat trap in a zone is under chin.

Use are 8-20 cuts of lengths from a jaws arc till a breast is on width 0.5-1 cm,and possible enter is on a low face part.

1.Begin application from a chin center,rise head up and incline in opposite from application side.

2.Apply tape without a tension.And put anchor on the edge of jaw arc and pull for sheet substrate,slowly a free tape from a sheet. And after move down, fix tape with a soft surging moves is on all length. Tapes spreading evenly,avoid are thyroid glands sides and milk glands.

3. As in head turning in natural position a tape can to go,like waves,this a norm.

4.Apply from an other side.

5. Stroke tapes ,as keeping tails a free hand.

And a possible combination with applications 3.22 and 4.7 

Affecting time are 2 hours till 2 days.

via Blogger https://ift.tt/32PPB1e

#Blogger #flews #platysma #ptosis

[cosmosogler]

considering i went to bed after 11 last night you can imagine how my waking-up-at-7-15 went.

i didn’t feel like working out so i just showered and got ready for the day. i switched the side my hair part is on just because i felt like it. instead of leaving for the department at 9:15 or so i instead decided to finish a comic i’ve been following that ended a few days ago. i was going back through the archives since it was ~120 pages long. it takes so much longer to read than it used to. in general, i mean.

didn’t have time for a taz episode today. i want to get through the live shows before i start the next arc (the suffering game) and each of those are 2 hours long. 

i did leave for campus before 11 today though, which was better than yesterday. and i had finished reading a thing before i left so that was even better than yesterday! i didn’t FEEL better than yesterday though. when i did finally get into the office and sit down i had a lot of trouble settling in and getting focused. i still did like 6 work sessions... and i only stayed until 6 or so. i finished reading chapter 1 of my mechanics book, which is what the first homework (due wednesday) is based on. and i finished my quantum assignment (also due wednesday). so i am more than halfway done with the work due this week and we’re not even at tuesday yet. i didn’t start the mechanics assignment, because by the end of the day i was so agitated that i was gonna cry if i didn’t eat something. suzanne drove me home thankfully since i missed the last bus by about 10 minutes. i was going to make it, but then i forgot i needed to pack and kind of just sat there and quibbled over the last quantum problem instead until i realized i had forgotten to leave.

my brain feels... like i pulled something, i guess? like i have no thoughts when i try to think about mechanics. there is just nothing when i try to focus on what the words on the assignment mean. it’s so frustrating! but i really do need to rest.

mental fatigue is a thing i just discovered on google. maybe i knew about it before, but it feels new. even though the feeling itself is not new at all. memory problems, man.

so when i got home i immediately made myself dinner. then i caught up on some youtube videos i’d put in my bookmarks earlier. when it got to be about 9-ish i started working on a budget, now that i know exactly how much each paycheck is going to be. 

it’s not much.

i actually don’t know if i will be able to afford both mine and snoopy’s medications long term. rent might be 30 dollars more than i think it is- the apartment’s web site lists a “30-dollar concession” for me that i’m not sure about. i don’t know if it’s from when mom and i accidentally paid a fee twice and now it’s just getting taken out of my first rent payment, or if it’s a monthly thing for some other reason (why is rent 30 dollars more than advertised on their site?).

anyway i made a really nice-looking budget excel sheet with colors and calculator tricks and tables! so at least SOMETHING got done this evening. something, like, work-related and not leisure-related. 

tomorrow i gotta teach a two-hour lab, and then i need to call a dentist because my teeth really hurt. and i also gotta meet with my three professors about the accommodation letters, which could take anywhere from 15 minutes to 90 minutes depending on which professors get hung up on it. i already know the e&m professor is going to take at least 15 minutes. not sure if the other two will just say “ok thanks for letting me know” and let me work on my mechanics homework or not. suzanne said the assignment would take all day if i started tomorrow.

i mean, i ain’t really doin anything else i guess. if i finish the assignment i’m just going to keep trying to catch up with the mechanics reading. we’re on chapter 3 of the textbook already. it took me like 4 hours to finish chapter 1.

mom was looking at my medications i had left on my dresser today and i can’t remember if i took my leftover surgery painkillers to the police station or not. if i didn’t... well, mom’s not above “convincing” me i didn’t need stuff that she wanted. i did actually need my pain meds after i had my wisdom teeth out a few years ago but i didn’t have them because mom decided she needed them more! i’ve probably complained about that before though.

guess i don’t have any control over that situation any more. i mean, the “did i take the meds to the police station” situation. but that applies to basically every other situation too.

it’s 10:15 and i’m hoping to be in bed around 10:30 so i should start wrapping up. snoopy’s getting more tolerant of the goopy stuff i gotta give her twice a day. i mean, she won’t take it herself, but she’s willing to take some cookies from me afterward instead of making me leave them on the ottoman for her.

she’s starting to respond to her name and some other words i use. she doesn’t come running when i call her the way ping did, but she does materialize behind me every time i say “cookies.” and when i say “hi snoopy” when i get home she’ll poke her head out from my bed area and meow at me and run over to where i put my keys. and she does look over when i say her name at least. she’s a chill cat. i like her a lot.

i’m exhausted... i wish more grad students would work in the office on weekends. i feel bad pestering suzanne every five minutes when i’m actually working on homework problems. at least i’m extremely confident that my answers this time are actually correct. i’m not ENTIRELY sure what the last problem was asking for writing-wise, but the math is as good as we could get it. it should have taken about 2 minutes but i was so wiped out and hazy by the end of the day that it took over 40 because we were all making it way more complicated than it needed to be.

maybe everyone else was tired too. i shouldn’t keep assuming everyone knows more than i do. i mean... they kinda do. they are in grad classes and i got kicked back to undergrad. but when i explain problems it seems to help people figure out what they need to do. it was kind of like that in undergrad too. people seemed helped by the questions i asked even if it was just because i wasn’t sure what was going on.

it’s not that i hold people to really high standards as much as it is that i assume they are already there and i have fallen behind. i can’t read other people’s minds so i assume they know what they are talking about. but that’s still assuming! so i guess i just suck at not jumping to faulty conclusions.

that’s where i’m at. i’m going to get ready for bed now and maybe i can nab 8 and a half hours of sleep before i gotta teach in the morning. that might help me feel a little better. 

i want to make a tofu dish that will be more filling than salad. but it doesn’t seem like the grocery store near my apartment sells any non-premade-freezer-meal soy products. suzanne and taylor suggested trader joe’s but i’m not sure how the cost would work out yet.

night.

[spinach-productions]

Kale, chapter 1

Summary: Our story begins in the middle.

Wordcount: 4375

Hello again, dear readers!  I’m proud to bring you the third and final arc of the Spinach Project: Kale!  This chapter takes place towards the beginning of Wilted Spinach, but the rest of the arc?  Who knows~

(i know)

As always, thank you for sticking with me.  This will hopefully be a 3 or 4 part epilogue to the rest of the story.  Thanks for reading!

201x (minus 2 years): after two centuries of use, the Underground’s hydroelectric system begins to fail.  Maintenance crew work frantically to repair the dams while the Capital draws power from its emergency backup generators.  Two days later, the backups also fail.  Power fluctuation rock the city.  Monsters who already have so little now have even less; waves of unease spread across the Underground.  The Royal Danger Clock, which sits attuned to the moods of the general populus, ticks further into the red zone than ever before.  

Scientists are pulled from all non-critical projects to work on creating a new energy source.  Doctor Gaster is one of the many people on the Emergency Power Restoration Committee.  They work in three eight-hour shifts, ensuring there’s always someone available if anything else goes wrong.  Ideas are proposed, analyzed, discarded.  Another day goes by and the Capital city blacks out entirely.

Sans balances his phone against his shoulder while he lights a candle.  He’s been pulled in on the committee, since Gaster was hardly going anywhere without his favorite coworker.  “It’s okay, buddy,” Sans says into the phone, “We’re working as fast as we can.  Yeah, we could use all the help we can get, come on down here.”

“Tell him to bring paper,” Gaster says from where he’s pouring over yet another notebook.

“Dings says-- yeah, good.  Thanks.  See you soon.”

Gaster pulls the candle closer and makes a mark on his calculations.  “You never call Papyrus ‘buddy’ unless you’re worried.”

“Me, worried?  Nah,” Sans says as he lights another candle, “We’re going to nail this thing to the wall.”

“Your lack of inflection doesn’t make you inscrutable.  This the greatest threat to monster mental health since we were locked Underground, and you are on the team keeping the general population from dissolving into so many piles of dust.  ”

“That’s--” Sans stutters, “Of course I’m not-- It’s going to be--”

Gaster continues scribbling without comment.  He seems to be waiting for Sans to finish a thought.  Any of them.  He’s patient like that.

Sans sighs heavily and sits in his chair.  A second desk was moved into Gaster’s office when San became an official Royal Laboratory employee, roughly eighteen years ago.  He slumps forward onto it now.  “Yeah, okay.  I’m pretty concerned about this.  I might even say that I’m worried.”

Gaster absently pats Sans’ shoulder.  “If it helps, I am too.  But I really do believe we’re going to make it through this.  After all, we have each other.”

Sans peers over his own arm to see Gaster smiling at him.  Despite reminders and complaints from both his sons, Gaster’s head remains cracked in two places.  Sans makes a mental note to increase his bothering about it and tentatively smiles back.

“Thanks da--”

The door, closed for privacy, bursts inward.  Papyrus comes stumbling in, his arms laden with paper stacked higher than his own head.  “Hello I am here, I have the thing you wanted!”

Sans feels his eyebrow tick upwards.  He and waves the papers over to Gaster’s desk as Papyrus’ gulps down air.  “How did you get here so fast?”

“I ran,” Papyrus gasps, “A lot.”

Gaster has drifted across the room with a glass of water.  Sans doesn’t know where he got it.  “Easy, Papyrus, deep breaths.”

“How can I take deep breaths when everything is dark?!”

Sans pulls Papyrus down into a hug.  He knows he isn’t talking about the absence of light in the powered-down buildings.  The feelings hanging over the city are uncertain and angry and scared, any one of which could be enough to make an unstable monster Fall Down.  Papyrus, Gaster, and Sans are all doing pretty emotionally well, but there are others who aren’t so fortunate.  Who knows how many of them are going to make it through this?

Gaster presses the water into Papyrus’ hand.  “Easy there, it will be alright.”

Papyrus holds the drink with an unsteady hand.  He peeks up from Sans’ shoulder.  “You’re going to fix this, right dad?”

Gaster smiles and gestures at his desk.  The stack of paper has lost structural integrity and sent sheafs all over his space.  “With your help, I believe I already have.”

-

To Sans’ surprise, Gaster’s calculations actually extend over most of the paper.  They’re absolute chicken-scratch, but the end product is beautiful in its simplicity: geothermal electricity, produced from Snowdin’s ice reserves and Hotland’s natural lava flows.  The steam resulting from their combination will then be combined with excess magic runoff collected from the population's negative emotions gathered at various points in time (though Sans has no idea how Gaster managed that part).  He plans to use available resources to light the city.  Sans is grateful, impressed, and inspired, all at the same time.

Plans are made, blueprints are drawn up and followed, the Core is constructed.  Gaster supervises the process with his usual eye for detail.  Sans handles the big picture ideas like how big did you say the radius was and where should this bypass valve go, and Papyrus helps with general administration and organization.  The Gaster family (which, according to the adoption papers issued twenty years ago, is the last name all three of them share) is efficient under normal circumstances and brilliant under difficult ones.

The Committee, which consists of most of the lab, comes together two days later to celebrate the Core’s completion.  King Asgore himself makes an appearance to pop open the first bottle of champagne.  Everyone is over the metaphorical moon and, before long, just a bit drunk.

Sans skirts the edges of the party to sit with Alphys, the newest employee of the Royal Laboratory and his oldest friend.  She looks as uncomfortable with the crowd.  “So,” he says, sliding into the chair next to her with what he considers his best slouch, “We’re not going to die today.”

“Nope,” Alphys agrees, clicking her champagne flute against Sans’.  “D-doctor Gaster d-did one heck of a job.”

“Just because you work here doesn’t mean you have to fall back on formalities,” Sans points out, taking a sip of his drink.

Alphys draws her fingers around the rim of the glass.  “It d-doesn’t feel right just calling him Gaster.  I d-don’t want to give anyone the impression I got here because of anything other than my own ability and hard work.”

“No one thinks that, but I do get it.”  Sans looks across the room, to where Gaster and Gerald are chatting with the king.  Gerald is holding up cup that, unless he’s planning to dump the contents into his respirator and drink through his breathing system, probably doesn’t have liquid in it.  Asgore laughs heartily and slaps Gaster on the back hard that he lurches forward and his drink sloshes out of his glass.  Gaster, whose body was designed for rough impacts, doesn’t seem to mind.

Sans sits in comfortable silence with Alphys as the idle chatter continues around them.  He can’t remember the last time the lab came together like this.  Sans isn’t one for crowds, but knowing all these people are here to celebrate a rare monster victory.  Realistically, this just puts them back to square one, but emotionally, it feels like a long awaited step in the right direction.

“How are you doing without Papyrus?” Alphys asks.

Sans fiddles with his glass.  This morning marked the day Papyrus left the Capital to go train for the Royal Guard with Captain Undyne.  Personally, Sans suspects the training program is a ruse to keep Papyrus off the Guard roster, but his brother is capable of making his own decisions and if this is what he wants to do, Sans isn’t going to get in his way.  If anyone else had asked about him, Sans would have shrugged the question off, but he and Alphys have survived twenty years of friendship and shared childhood trauma, so he says, “It’s going to be tough going back to an empty room tonight.”

Alphys nods sagely.  “He’s going to call, right?  Tell him you miss him.”

Sans watches Gaster to keep from looking at Alphys.  Gaster is excusing himself from conversation with the king and pulling his phone from his pocket.  “I don’t want him think he needs to come back.”

“I think he’ll appreciate it,” Alphys disagrees, “I think hearing that you’re proud of him, but that you miss him, will make him feel good.”

“That would mean talking about feelings,” Sans whines.

“How will you survive,” Alphys says with heavy sarcasm.

Sans finally looks up to meet her eye.  He grins slightly wider than he usually does.  “Speaking feelings and the lady my bro is training with--”

“D-don’t you d-dare,” Alphys snaps.  She turns away from Sans to sip at her champagne, but not before he notices a faint blush rising up in her face.

“I think she’ll appreciate it,” Sans teases, slinging an arm around Alphys’ shoulders, “I think hearing that you like her will make her feel good.”

Alphys shoves him good naturedly.  Sans laughs and lets her remove his arm.  He glances across the room to see what Gaster is up to, but finds him missing.

“Hey,” he asks, “Did you see where Dings went?”

“Sans,” says Gaster, who’s suddenly right next to him.

Sans, who’s had many years to acclimate to Gaster appearing out of thin air, doesn’t startle.  “Ah, there you are.  I was just looking for you.”

“Hello D-doctor,” Alphys says.

Gaster doesn’t look good.  If he weren’t made of non-organic materials, Sans might says he looks ill.  “Hello Alphys.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Sans.”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Al,” Sans says, hopping off his chair.  He follows Gaster as he weaves through the crowd, politely declining invitations for more drinks and conversation until they’ve made it into the hallway.  “Everything okay?”

Gaster places a hand on Sans’ shoulder.  “No, I can’t say that it is.  I just got a call from Donahue, who just got a call from one of her old friends on the force.  Apparently there was a jailbreak during one of the blackouts.”  He gently squeezes the bones under Sans’ jacket.  “You’re father is missing.”

-

A short humanoid monster escorts them home from the lab and stays for the first watch, courtesy of the Royal Guard.  Sans doesn’t remember how they get back to the apartment.  He does remember his magic thrumming nervously through his system, sparking against anything that gets too close.  Gaster handles the minor displacements like a champ.  His durable body makes him good, indestructible company when Sans is too agitated to properly control his magic.  He makes them all Hot Drinks (decaf tea, neither of them need a stimulant right now) and lets Sans sit in silence as he processes the fact that his dad could be en route to their house.

This man brought Sans and Papyrus to life via a murdered human child’s soul, kept them locked in a secret basement under the Royal Lab for eight years, spent three months tracking them down after they ran away, and fought Gaster in an extremely violent battle that utterly destroyed said secret basement.  He’s clever, difficult to track, and probably pretty angry.  Sans sips his tea as his brain spins out a colorful variety of scenarios, each more horrific than the last.

Gaster clears his throat.  “I assume by your complete inaction that you’re as worried about this as I am?”

“Probably,” Sans says.

They sit at the kitchen table with their tea as Gaster searches for words.  The clock, which is still the dumb little space clock Gaster’s coworker found in the dump a year before Gaster found found two children in a bush, ticks along.  “I want you to know that I believe things will be alright.”

“How can you know that?” Sans asks the clock.

“I suppose I don’t.  It’s possible that I’m projecting my own wishes for your well-being onto my sense of the future, but that doesn’t necessarily make it wrong.”

Sans watches the second hand move.  It helps to focus on something outside of himself.  “It’s been twenty years, Dings.  I’m an adult.  Why am I still so goddamn scared?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Gaster treats it with gravity anyway.  “You learned some very good survival skills at a young age.  They served you well.  That kind of education doesn’t evaporate overnight, or even over a series of decades.”

“You been talking to Anne?”

“Many times, over the course of twenty years,” Gaster replies.  The corners of his mouth turn up just enough to suggest a smile.  “There’s nothing we can do tonight, why don’t you go to bed?  Things might look clearer in the morning.”

“He’s right,” says the guard in the livingroom, where she’s guarding the door and drinking her own tea.

“Oh, well then.  Who I am to challenge the popular vote?”  Sans mutters under his breath.  He dumps out the last of his tea in the sink and heads towards the room he now has to himself, pausing by the doorway to thank the guard for coming.  “You really think we’ll come up with something?”

“There’s a higher chance of coming to a valid conclusion once the shock wears off.”

Good enough.  Sans sighs heavily and slouches off to bed.

-

Everything is screaming.  Sans knows this isn’t the first time he’s been here, but he also knows he’s never seen this space before.  Countless events flash past, seemingly from the future?  Or possible futures?  He catches a few commonalities between them: an explosion, some kind of child--?

Sans wakes with a start.  His bones are chilled and his teeth are on edge, and the sheets are snarled in his fingers.  He takes a moment the breath, then slowly unclenches his hands.

His phone is ringing.  Apparently, it’s what woke him up.

He taps the menu button.  When Gaster’s picture lights up the screen, he slides the phone open.  “Hey, Dings, where are you?”

“We’re in Hotland.”

Sans feels the world drop out from under him.  Sometimes, when he can’t sleep at night and he’s feeling particularly masochistic, he’ll lie awake and try to remember details about his father: what color he was, how he held himself, how he sounded.  The details have become fuzzy over the years, but Sans still recognizes his voice.

“I wanted to let you know that your dear Doctor Gaster is having some difficulties with the Core.  You may want to get here before anything else goes wrong.”

His right eye begins to ache.  He doesn’t answer.

“Do hurry.”

The line goes dead.  Sans sets the phone down.  He breathes for several long minutes, fighting his own shock to try and come up with an answer to this.  His dad found him, he found Gaster, and something is happening in Hotland.  There’s no other way he could get Gaster’s phone.

Finally, he pulls himself out of bed, pulls on a hoodie and shoes, and throws open his door.  The gingerbread guard starts at the sudden noise.

“Is Gaster here?”  He asks on the off chance this is a bluff.

“No,” the guard says, straightening back up her chair, “He got a call from the lab and left about an hour ago.”

Sans takes a deep breath.  His jacket tries to slip off one shoulder, so he straightens it back out.  “We have to get to Hotland.”

-

It’s still late enough that the Capital streets are empty.  Sans and the guard sprint out of the apartment and skid down to the river.  By some stroke of luck, the Riverperson is available at the Capital dock.  Sans throws enough gold for three people into the jar and scrapes together enough manners to keep from swearing when he asks the Riverperson to gun it.

“It doesn’t matter how fast we go,” the Riverperson says as they cast off, “Things won’t play out until you get there.”

“What?”  Sans asks.

“You’re about to take a trip.  Try not to throw up.”

“What?”

“I mean.  Tra-la-la.”

Further badgering doesn’t get the Riverperson to elaborate.  Sans wheedles a bit longer, but when the Riverperson continues to hold their peace, he slumps down in his seat next to the guard.  “What is the point of giving out mysterious clues if they don’t help the person you’re giving them to.”

The mineral stars glitter overhead and on the surface of the water.  Sans rests his arms on his knees as the guard pulls out some knitting to pass the time.  The fake stars haven’t changed since monsterkind was forced Underground, just stayed up there and watched generations of people live and die.  No plans, no cares.  Sans isn’t sure if that sounds good or unbelievably boring.

They make it to Hotland and hurl themselves off the skiff.  The Core lies over one of the largest lava flows in the region, not far from a river that runs parallel to the main Underground waterway.  The front of the building doesn’t look different from when building completed the day before.  Sans pulls the keys from his pocket and slots them into the doorknob, but hesitates..

Endless testing on top of caring for a new infant; sleeping on park benches and stealing leftovers from the trash; two enormous hands hoisting him into the air by his shirt, shaking him until his eyes rattles in his skull and one goes out entirely--

The guard pulls Sans out of his memories with a hand on his elbow.  She’s at least six inches shorter, so she may have been aiming for Sans’ shoulder.  “We’ve got this,” he says.

“How do you know?” Sans asks, staring at the door ahead.

“Because I’m not willing to believe anything else,” the guard replies simply.  “So there’s no reason to dwell on any other possibilities.”

Sans lays his hand over the guard’s, then unlocks the door.  The guard smiles at him, gently moves Sans aside so she can take point, and kicks the door in.

“Shouldn’t we, uh, try for stealth?”  Sans asks as they rush past the main lobby and start the long descent into the Core.

“There’s no point.  Your father already knows we’re coming.”  The guard takes the stairs three at a time, careening around corners and kicking off the walls to gain speed.

The control booth is almost two-hundred feet below the building.  It has a large switchboard, two microphones, and several computer monitors for keeping track of the various aspects of Core maintenance, and an enormous pane of magic-infused glass.  Sans finds himself thrown into the booth as he passes it, knocking over one of the two chairs as he sails inside.

“You stay here,” the guard says, standing just outside the booth with one hand on the door.

“No,” Sans disagrees, straightening himself out.

“Your best offense is that your magic can counter your father’s, and you can do that from here.  Taking you into the core would be a liability.”

She’s right, and Sans hates that.

“Plus, you can use the intercom as a distraction so I’ll have time to get in there.”

There isn’t time to argue.  Sans grits his teeth and spits a few choice threats around bodily safety, but doesn’t contradict him again.  The guard gives him a thumbs up and darts past the doorway towards the main reactor.

Sans climbs to his knees, still muttering complaints under his breath, and carefully peers over the control panels.  The booth overlooks the main floor of the reactor in all its glory: towering metal pipes and boilers on a raised platform, plugged directly into the Hotland central lava flow.  It’s supposed devours steam and bad feelings and spits back useable electricity, but something is wrong.  Steam and emotional magic gathered from various points in the past and present are hissing from several overstressed joints, and the entire system seems to be buckling outward.  Sans doesn’t dare risk using his own magic in such a heavily charged environment.

Gaster and Gerald are standing by the main valve.  They seem alright, but Sans’ attention is drawn to the man standing by the platform’s edge.  He’s in what Sans assumes is his first form (not the natural one, he’s always shifted depending on his needs and wore each form as naturally as the others), dressed in a Royal Penitentiary tunic.  A prisoner number stitched into the back.  He’s saying something to the others, but Sans can’t hear it without turning in.  He has a walkie-talkie in one hand, and is using the other to hold a small, armless child over the lava.  She’s crying silently, tears dripping off her face into the molten rock.  This is a hostage situation, and Gaster and Gerald have stayed to try and diffuse both it and whatever malfunction is affecting the Core.

For just a moment, Sans hates them for putting themselves in danger like this.

The moment passes.  Sans scans the control panel, positions himself in front of a microphone, and hits the button to activate the intercom.

The wall-mounted speakers screech to life.  Gaster covers his ears, but the man in the prison only tilts his head in what Sans assumes to be interest.  After all this time, his father is going to listen to him.  Sans calls up all the imagined conversations, all the discussions with Doctor Snowdrake, everything he’s ever wanted to say to the man currently holding most of his family and a small child hostage.

“Hey, it’s me, the kid you ruined.”

“What the hell gave you the right to do this?”

“Guess who remembers you?  Not your youngest son, because I found him a better dad and never told him you exist.”

“Did you ever even care about us?  At all?”

Sans evaluates the situation and discards each of these options in turn.  Finally, he clears his throat.  “Hi, Dad.”

The man looks up into the control panel.  When his eyes land on Sans, he smiles widely and brings the walkie-talkie to his mouth.  “Hello, Sans,” he says, voice coming through the speaker next to the microphone, “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Sans answers truthfully.  “Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

“It’s quite simple, really: if either of your guardians move in any way that suggests they’re plotting against me, this young girl is going into the lava.”

Sans tamps down his rising panic, falling back on the nonchalance he uses to cover unpleasant emotions.  “I should have been more specific.  Why are you doing this?”

His father’s grin widens.  “My observant son.  Always looking for details so he can best understand the situation.  I’d say I was proud of you, but we both know that would be a lie.”

“I guess I didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted,” Sans agrees.  “Want to monologue about why you’re doing this?”

The grin trails off.  “You’ve developed a nasty sense of humor, Sans.  I have to say, that’s something of a disappointment.  Perhaps this is endeavor is a waste of time.”  He lowers the monster kid another precious inch closer to the lava.  She opens her mouth, but Sans can’t hear her scream through the glass.

Gaster, who has been using Sans’ distraction to fiddle with the few controls on the Core itself, takes a furious step towards Sans’ father.  Gerald, who has been helping, holds him back.

“No,” Sans says quickly, before anyone can get hurt, “Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

His father studies him.  “You’ve gone soft, too.  Another disappointment, but it works in my favor today.  I would like a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain away,” Sans says.  He keeps his eyes on his father, to makes sure nothing will draw attention to Gaster and Gerald as they resume work on the Core.

His father begins pacing, swinging the monster kid in one hand as he walks along the edge of the platform.  “I’ve been in prison for twenty years, Sans.  Do you know what that’s like?  It’s hell.  Every day, all the concentrate hopelessness threatens to drag you down into dust.  There’s no escaping it.

“But that’s not the worst of it.  No, the worst of it was watching you and Papyrus, my most cherished experiments, my sons, run away.  You were destined for great things, and you ran away.  I loved you, Sans.”

Sans swallows thickly.  It takes everything in him to keep from responding.

“And you turned your back on everything we achieved together.”  He sighs and sets the monster kid down, but keeps a firm grasp on her shoulders.  “I am beyond disappointed.  We could have achieved so much together.  We could have been a family.”

“I wish it could have been different,” Sans says quietly.

His father sighs.  “So do I.”

The watch each other for a long time.  Gaster and Gerald manage to keep the Core from overloading for another minute.

“But,” Sans’ father says, “It didn’t turn out that way.  We live in a world where you made different choices.  We have to live with that.”

He begins to turn back towards the core, where Gaster and Gerald are not being model hostages.

“Wait,” Sans says, desperately hoping to buy them more time.

At the same moment, the gingerbread guard comes hurtling across the room with a scream.  She tackles Sans’ father, sending them both sprawling across the platform.  The monster kid shrieks and sprints towards the Core, looking for either shelter or an adult to protect her.  Gerald opens his arms to catch her; the gingerbread guard draws back a fist as she pins Sans’ father in place; Sans’ father summons a handful of blue magic.  

“No!”  Sans yells.  Gaster says something he can’t hear without the walkie-talkie, but Sans suspects it’s a similar expression of alarm.

The already magic-saturated air catches on Sans’ father’s spark.  It accelerates the expansion of energy outwards from the Core and initiates a cascade failure of the various safety protocols.  Sans catches a glimpse of what could be fire or some kind of explosion.  He has just enough time to wonder why they hell they thought they could contain different types of energy in one system before the room is blacked out and the building disappears from the Underground.

#Spinach Productions #kale #undertale #undertale fanfiction #undertale fanfic #sans #gaster #papyrus #alphys #gaster's followers