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schismusic · 14 days

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Joy Division, or: how I learned to stop worrying and love New Order, too

Spring is weird as hell because one time you have this glaring sun that powers you up like being plugged into a wall outlet, then not five minutes later clouds begin to gather and you feel like you're going to die if anything goes south. So the most obvious combination to represent two sides of this same coin, emotional and meteorological, is Joy Division and New Order.

Sometimes you need Transmission or Shadowplay for the sunny days — impassioned jolts, sparks flying everywhere. Sometimes The Perfect Kiss hits harder on a cloudy afternoon, coming back home and in need of that extra push to not fall asleep in the train. It's surprising to realize the versatility displayed by both bands, or the same band in two different iterations according to whomever you ask. Peter Hook says, as late as 1993, that the laziest member of New Order is Ian Curtis. Or again this other person, in the comments under the Atmosphere official video on YouTube, who went to see New Order (Hooky-less New Order, which might be a relevant distinction) at the O2 Arena a couple of years ago and they gave an encore, says "Those of us who stayed got the privilege of watching Joy Division perform three of their songs". Interesting outlook on the matter. I personally saw Peter Hook and the Light play both Joy Division records and, I'm pretty sure, an encore comprised of just Love Will Tear Us Apart at the Arti Vive Festival in Soliera, back when it was still free to attend some of the events. I remember being pretty mad that Hooky had stopped to take pics with basically everyone and then left exactly as I was approaching. In retrospect I don't exactly blame the man, it was like midnight anyway. I remember nothing of the back trip home.

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My first contact with Joy Division happened when I was thirteen and very much in my prog era. I was in Rome staying at an aunt of mine's place for my fourteenth birthday and she told me I could get a CD, since I had gotten some money saved up over time. Some Facebook page dedicated to Pink Floyd I'd liked (yeah, Facebook at age thirteen — I literally just wanted to play a fucking Flash game, back when Facebook allowed them, and I ended up getting to be terminally online. Crazy how things turn out) used to share a lot of memes and fanart relating to the Unknown Pleasures album cover, and me being a massive Pink Floyd head at the time I thought "I mean, if these guys are pushing this band so hard, that's gotta mean something". The album cover was pretty striking, admittedly: a far cry from the paisley ass paintings that I had grown to accept as the gold standard for the music I liked, but its simplicity struck a chord closer to The Dark Side of the Moon, or perhaps The Wall. Those were records I liked a lot, probably called them "the best records ever made" to more than one person, not like they aren't but that's a very bold statement to make when your listening experience consists exactly of

Madonna's Confessions on a Dance Floor when I was six;

Daft Punk's complete discography (minus Random Access Memories, which wasn't out yet) when I was twelve;

Pink Floyd's complete discography, courtesy of a CD collection coming out with some Italian newspaper, that same year;

a couple random classic rock records recommended to me by older friends and relatives usually well into their fifties or sixties at the time, random people on Internet forums — which, for clarification, I did not actively attend, preferring to just lurk from time to time — and the OndaRock "milestones" page.

So browsing through the surprisingly expansive CDs section of this electronics shop in Rome, and being mesmerized by a vinyl rack in the days when Music on Vinyl was the final frontier of pretending you could re-analogue the digital ("you mean to tell me these are like CDs, but bigger? Whoever designed these truly lived in the future"), I came across that very same album art that had stricken me so hard. I had listened to the first seconds of the album on YouTube, but that weird drum sound — so echoey, so distant, ultimately not particularly powerful, meaning it didn't really sound like Bonzo: it sounded more like my own band, which at the time didn't even exist yet — I didn't really know what to make of. This store I was in had one of those preview listening machines that would scan the barcode on the CDs and give you a small snippet of the song. I pull the CD up to the scanner, the scanner lights up green, I put on the headphones and the solo from this comes up:

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Clearly they had to be kidding me. I had come to know, sneaking into infinitely many rehearsals with the band from my mother's town, what it sounded like when someone tried to play lead without something else filling up the arrangement (even though I didn't really know all that, or at least lacked the vocabulary to properly express it) and, for Christ's sake, didn't these guys notice rehearsing? It sounded empty, weirdly so, and it wasn't my thing, I thought. I put that CD away and picked up a band I knew I'd like — Genesis, specifically. So Nursery Cryme became the first CD I've ever paid with my own money, the very day I turned fourteen. Not a bad pickup. I remember being very impressed with the fast blurring lead guitar on The Musical Box and digging the sweet pastoral atmospheres of For Absent Friends and Harlequin. I still think of that record more often than one would probably assume looking at this blog, or my most played on Spotify. At the time, that was the best move I could take, really: why beat my head against a record that, as your average prog nerd ballbreaker, simply wasn't speaking to me?

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Then all of a sudden in August of the same year my friend's dad hands me a 16 gigabyte USB drive, full of random music from all eras of rock. A lot of it remains inscrutable to me for a really long time, most notably Tom Waits (see related post), but I spent the whole month reading random folder names, seeing if something catches my eyes, and at one point I come across the Mars Volta. Open the folder up, read the names of their first three records, and my first thought is "Christ, these guys look incomprehensible. I'm about to have some fun". Long story short: I end up having a lot of fun, the Mars Volta turns into my favourite band at the time and finding out that they had previously been called At the Drive-In makes me gain some measure of respect for punk rockers: if they tried hard enough, I must've thought, they could prog as hard as anyone. In the meantime the ghost of Joy Division remains at the back of my head. I feel like I'm missing something, for the first time in my life: it's not them, it's me. Too bad that same realization didn't occur to me when it came to the people in my life until much, much later, but that's being fourteen for you I suppose. Early King Crimson and the Mars Volta were the pinnacle of violence to me, and not even the very few Metallica songs I'd downloaded just to see what would happen scratched that itch. It felt a bit too cauterized for some reason (I would later find out I had been looking in the wrong direction the whole time: the Black Album "sucked", according to my favourite metalhead of the time, who somehow catalyzed my interest from the very second I saw him in the school's courtyard. Hard to imagine why I would imprint on people like puppies do, but what the fuck, not like I've ever outgrown that anyway, I've just gotten better at managing it). But I felt there was more than violence to this, or different forms of violence. When Christmas came around and my relatives tried to get me presents, my mother asked if there was anything specific I was interested in, and I basically told her "look, if they can get me some CDs off of this list, I'm golden". It had some bangers on it, namely Noctourniquet by the Mars Volta — it's one of their best and I will die on this hill, be warned — and The Downward Spiral, which might as well warrant its own post in an ideal world. But the best of them all I think came from a random purchase, once again with the little money I had lying around at the time.

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Closer appears to be, right away, a bit more concrete, and if there's something inexperienced music fans like is a pretty packaging that conjures a strong emotional response before they've even played the record. Compare a color-inverted graph of pulsar emissions to a literal funerary monument. Opening up the booklet I was shocked to see that Genesis was used as a negative point of comparison (bad omen, I thought) by people close to the band, and I came across much more detailed information about Ian Curtis's untimely demise — at that time, something far too removed from my experience to be faced with the delicacy and attention it deserves. Atrocity Exhibition hits like a ten-ton truck, a reference which at the time I wouldn't have been able to make for obvious reasons, and Isolation exposes all the nerve tissue under the skin. Passover comes in and strips everything even barer, and then A Means to an End turns… danceable, for some reason? Big emotional moment with The Eternal and Decades, which I thought actually took them closer to my usual tastes. And yet at the same time I kept looking at Colony, Heart and Soul and Twenty Four Hours as the most compelling cuts. Geometric assault sounding like sheet metal if it were music; rhythmically driven emptiness that serves as a minimal backdrop for depressed poetry, and finally a rocking ebb-and-flow that would probably inform a lot of my interest in GY!BE-like post-rock in the coming years. Very interesting to think that the same guys who'd done Unknown Pleasures could think of this. To this day, when asked, I still do think that Closer is the best Joy Division record, but what does it even mean when the records are exactly two, compilations notwithstanding?

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It was around this time that it came to my attention that both Joy Division and another band called New Order had a record called Substance out, both published by the same recording company, both coming out within a year of each other. Looking it up, it turns out it's fully intentional, because New Order is simply Joy Division minus Ian Curtis. It would turn out to be a tad bit more complex than that. Anyway, I look New Order up and kind of have to do a double-take. Synthpop? In my Joy Division? More likely than you'd think, considering Isolation exists. But yeah, that sort of seals it — I wouldn't care about this New Order for a million years. Until all of a sudden a couple of years later David Sylvian bursts like a comet in my face, which of course leads me straight to Japan, the same year as I'd come across Berlin-era Bowie, and you can probably guess where this is going, right?

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Well, you'd be wrong. I still don't check out New Order. There's a whole new world open to me — vaporwave and therefore R Plus Seven come to my attention, which leads me to dissect that record like an alien tool of unclear purposes. This of course leads me onto an ambient tangent, taking me back to my Tim Hecker listens of that same year, which has the effect of renewing my interest in "pure" electronic music and the then-rising post-dubstep movement. The sheer experience of sound, the dazzling modernity and innovation, is what's in at the time. I have no time for nostalgia-pandering dimwits: the future awaits. Then all that jazz from the first Godflesh post hits, then God pulls the funniest gag in the history of viral infections to my memory, and I have some time to actually look back, a bit less prejudiced. As it turns out, synthpop is not the devil, as some of you might have surmised by now, and as I relisten to Blue Monday I realized I have never listened to either of the Substance record. I do know some, most perhaps?, of the tracks on the Joy Division one, and I do think the New Order one has the more striking cover art — not to mention I knew, by this time, that this was the one to give Metal Gear Solid 2: Substance its name, and that Your Silent Face soundtracked one of the most memorable moments in Nicolas Winding Refn's Bronson. As the ultimate Hideo Kojima stan, I couldn't let this slide, so I pop the record on and get hit with this:

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Way to go, guys. Holy shit. I knew that Ceremony was a Joy Division cut before they could record it, but what the hell — Bernard got it, too. It wasn't a matter of singing ability with songs like these, it's just getting it, finding the right energy. They had that right energy. And then it hit me just as many times these dudes have made Blue Monday over and over again before actually getting it right, and everytime I look into it it's funnier and funnier to realize just how many different attempts it took them to finally be Kraftwerk, but augmented — with the stellar results we all know. Everything's Gone Green, 5 8 6, Temptation potentially, all lead up to this one moment in the history of dance music where somehow three dudes and a girl hailing from Manchester managed to out-gay the Pet Shop Boys (by their own admission, apparently), to shake the whole world's collective booty, to do whatever it is they were supposed to do in this last comparison that would ideally make the previous one a bit less obnoxious but whatever, it's 3am as usual, you know how it goes by now don't you? But then after Blue Monday the record keeps going, and thank god it does, because it's banger after banger. How do these guys keep doing it?

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So I spend some time with that record, then it fades down, then it comes back up last month, when the weather calls for it and its parent company. Which is when I find myself watching the Control movie for the first time, surprisingly enough seeing as I already enjoyed the work of Anton Corbijn as a photographer. Looking at all that, it is revealed to me that Joy Division never really having died is not a bug, it's a feature. Everyone is gasping, I get it, but please pick your jaws up and check this out: the band has never learned how to play their respective instruments. One might go so far as to argue they play their own stuff their own way, and that's basically it. Nothing could be further from the truth. These guys jammed, a lot; that's how Joy Division wrote songs, that's how New Order wrote songs, even going as far as having Bernard Sumner fucked up on acid so he could find the chorus to Temptation or the whole band bombed out of their minds on X in Ibiza clubs to write, basically, the entirety of Technique — and even then, not really, there's a couple jangly tracks that the X would most likely render unlistenable but what do I really know? Point being: it might now have been sparked by a music teacher or instructor, it might not have been the product of a process comparable to that within Television, which led them to organically seek out better, more "by the book" musicianship, but New Order were incredibly familiar with their instruments, had formed an element of comfort and understanding that counterbalanced the alien-ness to music terminology.

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Peter Hook recently uploaded a Yamaha-sponsored video to his Instagram, which I am pretty sure has a say in running, where he jams on a Yamaha bass and, you know, it sounds like Hooky alright, but it's never a discernible bassline until he kicks into the A major strumming that opens Love Will Tear Us Apart. Before that, he just strolls around the neck, leisurely strumming away at power chords imbued with that thick chorus and reverb combo he became renowned for. I would never, in my wildest dreams, have imagined I'd find myself thinking "okay, awesome, stop talking — I want to hear you jam a bit more" referring to one of the musicians who were part of possibly two of the craziest storiest in the history of contemporary rock'n'roll, also notorious for playing the rockstar whilst carrying the minimum possible baggage of technical knowledge he could. Once again, this is nowhere near a knock to the man — quite the opposite. Ian Curtis asked "persistence, well, what does it matter?", and Hooky (and, of course, the other members of New Order) found a way to constructively answer that question. Moments before Coil, but a bit later than Israel Regardie, they said "persistence is all" and built a brand on finding a way to consistently sound like splendid, eternal, golden children: "like crystal", impassionate, tightly-knit performers with the purity of a child's heart. Ian Curtis had, in certain ways (at least artistically), the purity of a child in his heart, which some might even argue was a distinguishing feature of most of his literary idols — if you think about it, William Burroughs could be your dirty-minded classmate who walked in on his parents sharing an intimate moment in the bedroom (had his parents been gay men, the metaphor would probably fly better, but that most definitely wasn't the case). So the heart of Joy Division remains untouched, if a bit more naked. Heroes of post-punk, sons of the silent age, you can sleep soundly tonight.

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#schismusic #music #musica #long form content #schism writing #joy division #new order #post punk #new wave #Youtube

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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not only is darimila HYSTERICALLY funny as a crackship i think camila deserves a nice peacock of a boyfriend. i want her to show a photo of him at work and his coworkers are too busy wondering if this guy is an actor or a model or what to wonder about the ears or the goo hair. can you imagine darius helping the nocedas with groceries high heels and green eyeliner and god knows what else. MAN.

Firstly I love that this ask implies that Darius puts 0 effort into concealing his identity as a witch when he's in the human realm. This man is fully willing to expose magic and the demon realm in the town famous for producing a crackpot genocidal witch hunter everyone hates IF. and only if he can look fabulous doing it

I'm also on team Camila Deserves Nice Things anon, though I do differ on the details slightly, mainly because I'm sooooo enchanted by the Darius and Camila fake dating scenario I've cooked up in my brain. It both appeases the part of me that adheres to canon characterization of Camila as a woman who still, years later, has boxes of Manny's stuff lying around the house, yet to be put away, bc realistically she did not get proper space to mourn him when he died and she is not ready to move on...AND the part of me that, like you, wants Camilla's coworkers to see a picture of Darius and LOSE THEIR MINDS. HELLO??? THIS IS THE BAD BITCH SHE PULLED BY BEING AUTISTIC??? FR???????

And then I'm unsure whether or not I prefer Darius with romantic feelings for Camila? On the one hand I think, in the beautiful timeline where I actually wrote this, I'd prefer to have it come down on the side of "Darius and Camila are Good Friends who bond over how terrifying being a new(ly), single parent is"

and Hunter has to grapple with the fact that no, his family is not and never will be "normal" according to societies standards, and he cannot parent trap his parents into loving each other, but that doesn't make his family structure any worse off than something closer to a nuclear family.

Also I'd squeeze some juicy character exploration out of Luz bc she is SO not over her dad's death. She tries to downplay it and act like she is but she is not and it's very very clear in TTT. But she also wants her mom to be happy more than anything. And she loves love! And it'd make hunter happy! So she's just. Sitting there with gritted teeth trying not to get upset at the idea of Darius and her mom actually getting together and being happy.

But, tragically, I can't guarantee I'll ever fully write this out (though I fully encourage ppl to run with the idea if they like it. Please run with it I can't be the only one who's thought of this before) so I give myself a little more room to be silly and I say that. Darius is a person with a lot of walls up who likes pretending to be cool as a method of distancing himself from ppl, and I'd love to watch those walls get eroded by the overly sincere and silly sci-fi nerds that are his son-figure and his crush, who are also mother and son. Also I love the idea of Darius being a man in his forties with a crush. Yes!! Get more pathetic!!! Raeda is cowering rn!!!!!

IN CONCLUSION: I love you anon, I should really make SOMETHING based on the Darius Camila fake dating scenario, but if I don't, let this rambling serve as a testament to the GRIP it has on my brain

#ramblings of a lunatic #the owl house #toh #darimila #camila noceda #darius deamonne #the more i joke abt this ship the less ironic it becomes and I'm scared. don't do this to me #it's fine they can polycule it up with raine and eda /j #throw alador and perry in there too. watch everyone on the hexsquad slowly become related to each other. except willow. rip #ALSO i didn't proofread this bc it's very late </3 wish me luck that this is still comprehensible by morning

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modernwritercraft · 28 days

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Question

If I move along like I am at the bottom here, would the pacing be too fast, or do I need to add some more stuff to the scene before moving on in the story

Mmc Who is she? I have to know. My lips tug downward in a frown as I peer out the window, nursing my third frappuccino of the day. A mob of people are trudging past one another on their way to or from work like mice in a maze and the amount of relief I feel to have this hole in the wall coffee shop to escape is immeasurable. Not many people come here, thank god, so it's quiet and peaceful with lots of books to read. Significantly better than the loud, high-energy coffee shops people prefer to go to. I'd go mad if I didn't have this little sanctuary to run to. I shudder just thinking about being in that cesspool of god knows what with all those people brushing by me. The thought of them touching me as they make their way past makes my skin crawl. I can only stand physical contact from very few people. I scout the coffee shop around me for any photo opportunities in hopes of capturing something that was up to the high standard I demanded of myself. Maybe I can photograph the bookshelf; or maybe the lights around the coffee shop. Disappointment floods through me the longer I fail to find my shot. Sunlight falls upon my drink, and I swiftly whip out my favorite Polaroid camera before the light decides to change. I refuse to lose this shot. I peer through the little window and angle the camera where I want it. 'click' What catches my attention in the end isn't the golden caramel glistening against the white background of the drink, but the woman I accidentally photograph behind it. She's charming in an unassuming manner, but nevertheless, I still find her captivating. Her soft, glossy hair falls in wild curls midway down her back; the light coppery color glowing as bright and beautiful as a setting sun. The woman's holding a bouquet of closed morning glories in her hands as she helps an indecisive customer pick a bundle of flowers with a polite smile that didn't reach her stunning bottle green eyes. I can't stop myself from gawking at her as she works; the graceful and elegant way she dances about the shop, as if floating on air while tending to the flowers, more than enthralls me. A nameless primal emotion ignites within myself, perplexing me with the desire to learn more about her and get even closer. ‘You undoubtedly love flowers and your shop, my little flower. Despite the customers. I bet you're happier when the shop is empty and it's just you and the plants. You find people as intolerable as I do, don't you?’ I reluctantly tear my eyes away from her and pull my laptop out to continue my photography homework. I enjoy homework from this class, but today, I just can't focus on it. Frustration at my lack of control builds as my eyes perpetually drift across the street in hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman again. I study her delicate fingers carefully wrapping around the stem of a flower in thought before discarding it to the side. The woman mused for a moment, considering a rather pretty yellow flower with diligence before aligning it in the bouquet, brushing the other flowers to the side to make room. Jung loses track of time and before he knows it, the streetlights turn on; he knows he should leave but something holds him in his seat like a stone in his stomach.

#writing help #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #writeblr #writing #writing community #writers and poets #18+ account #18+ blog #please help #pls help #help #pacing #writers block #writers #advice

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owl-with-a-pen · 10 months

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Hey! I don't know if you're still writing Briania fics or accepting prompts for them, but if by chance you are, I've been thinking about the Naltorian mannerisms I've sent in before, specifically The Stare, and thought it would be really interesting to read about The Stare in action and Nia possibly unintentionally saving Brainy's or their friends' lives through her staring alerting them to danger before anyone has consciously noticed it.

I'd be really interested to see where you take this concept if you decide to pick it up! Your Brainia fics have always been my favorite and discussing the mannerism headcanons with you is always a delight.

Thank you so much! And also, thank you for always fuelling me with so many amazing headcanons for Naltorian mannerisms, they're all absolutely golden! I cooked up something special just for you for The Stare, a little fic about the first time Nia ever uses it. I hope you enjoy and thank you once again, it's always a joy to see your asks in my inbox! 😊

There were many trivial matters that often delayed a mission. Brainy was no stranger to this – indeed, it was an expected part of the job to gather as much data as possible before going into the field, to map out reconnaissance locations, locate blueprints of buildings that may necessitate the element of surprise.

Early into his career at the DEO, he had often forgone Alex’s judgement on mission briefings, preferring instead to jump right into the fray with a plan he had simulated long before anyone had given him an instruction to do so. It hadn’t been a concern of his to follow correct procedure at the time – obviously his own intellect had reigned superior over any official orders he had been expected to follow by far primitive minds.

He knew better now, of course. Even if sometimes that urge was still present, he had learned to quell it, to listen to his orders however unreasonable they may have seemed at first. Because, while not always the plan he had in mind, he could not deny that he worked with some incredibly efficient strategists.

While not quite an official DEO mission, it was still being presided over by Alex, and her instructions had been clear. At the moment, they were dealing with an incredibly delicate hostage situation. Little was known about the hostages in question, only that they were alien and being targeted by what Alex believed to be a separate faction of the same species. Regrettably, Brainy had no knowledge he could provide on the subject. This species was not known to him nor the Legion archive, though they appeared to be technologically advanced compared to Earth-standard equipment by some centuries, proving this for the most part by the proficiency of their weaponry.

It was these high-grade firearms in particular that gave the species such a unique energy signature to look out for. Without it, Brainy wasn’t sure they would have ever been able to locate the site where the kidnapped aliens were being held.

He and Nia had been sent ahead to the scene – a derelict warehouse at the edge of the city – to keep watch from ground level while Alex and J’onn worked on mapping the building using their own internal sources closer to home. The warehouse was old, lead-lined, which had given Kara little insight on what might have been going on inside. She was currently somewhere high above, offering an aerial perspective around the building’s circumference. Brainy caught sight of her cape on occasion, a red smear against an otherwise unremarkable cloudy day.

Since arriving at their vantage point behind a cluster of rocks nearest to the building’s south-facing entrance, Brainy had been focusing most of his concentration on the information he’d stored to his tablet, pulling data from Alex’s research and offering his own expertise on leads she’d been marking out in real time without needing to be physically present himself. The distance was certainly more of a strain than he was used to, but he enjoyed the challenge. At least it kept several of his thought tracks busy while they avidly waited for their next instruction.

Albeit, he had to admit that he had reserved several more for Nia.

Despite her best efforts, Nia Nal had yet to learn from Brainy’s old mistakes. She revelled in the action that came with a physical fight, but often struggled with the slower strides that came before it. It was about now that she would have normally given up trying to sit still and meditate on her visions, instead throwing herself into physical exertion such as fidgeting or pacing to kill the time.

But no dust was being kicked up in her steed, because Nia Nal was still perched on the rock closest to Brainy, disquietly reticent as she stared into her lap. She hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived, not even to lean over his shoulder and offer her input on his research as he so often enjoyed. They could bounce ideas between each other endlessly when left to their own devices, filling the space between action with easy conversation. Today, however, Nia was suspiciously inactive.

Brainy’s hand stilled halfway across his tablet, glancing up to Nia with hesitant concern. After a quick external review, he could conclude that there was nothing wrong with her physically. She wasn’t sick or injured, or even just bored. There was something else, a faraway look in her eye that may have alluded a dream state if it wasn’t for the frustrated furrow in her brow, deepening the crease across her nose. A twitch curved the corner of Nia’s lip as she blinked suddenly, rubbing irritably at her face.

“Hey,” Brainy said softly. He discarded the tablet swiftly, reaching out for her knee instead. “You okay?”

Nia sagged forward just as Brainy’s hand made contact with her leg. She cupped her chin in her hands, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, actually,” she admitted, her voice muffled between her fingers. “I feel kinda woozy. It’s hard to explain.”

Brainy squeezed her knee. “You can tell me.”

Nia nearly smiled at that, and Brainy felt the urge to smile along with her. She sobered quickly, her eyes travelling elsewhere again. “I guess it’s… it’s like a vision wants to happen, but it won’t. It’s just making me feel really out of it.”

Any pockets of thought previously delegated to background tasks promptly turned their attention to Nia’s plight. Brainy eyed her worriedly. “Will you be alright to do this?”

Nia’s hands clenched suddenly in her lap. “I have to.”

Brainy straightened at once at Nia’s tone, his concern for her shifting instead to understanding. He hadn’t heard that tone of voice often, but enough to know that, when he did, it was something well beyond the realms of the waking world compelling Nia to speak her certainty. Her words may as well have been a prophecy in their own right, and Brainy knew it was imperative that he heed them justly.

Brainy put more effort into conversation after that, hoping to lessen some of Nia’s burden. If she was failing to make progress connecting with her gift for any reason, then he at least hoped he could provide her with a worthy distraction.

It appeared to work for a time. Nia soon began to relax into the safety net of their easy back-and-forth, edging closer to his side enough that their legs brushed together. She even managed to snatch his tablet from him when he wasn’t looking, scrolling through Alex’s notes when she started to itch for something to fiddle with. They huddled together after that, studying the notes as one, although Brainy could tell that the fog was still plaguing her. Even so, her resilience was – as always - unparalleled. To an untrained eye, nothing may have appeared wrong at all.

But Brainy knew Nia better than he knew himself, and the weight that she carried was not an easy one to disguise.

Eventually, the call came through to their comms. Alex had determined the layout of the warehouse and, subsequently, the most probable location for where the hostages were being held inside. With Brainy and Nia’s help, they’d additionally simulated likely vantage points the aliens would make use of with their weaponry, using range and distance as a primary factor. It may not have been quite as in-depth as a full x-ray of the building, but it was enough to make their entrance known.

Kara was called in to enter from one of the windows on the north side of the building. With Nia and Brainy covering the south side, they could meet in the middle and join forces from there.

Brainy maintained a thought track for Nia’s movements the second they headed for the entrance - a half raised shutter that needed some force to pry all the way open. She was his partner in more than one sense of the word, he hardly needed to think at all to know where she was. And yet, as he and Nia ducked beneath the shutter together, Brainy couldn’t keep a bubble of worry from lodging in his throat. If Nia’s precognition was in any way compromised right now, her usual fighting technique would shift to accommodate for that loss. This wouldn’t make her any less capable, but he’d need to make several adjustments to his own stance to match hers.

It was only moments later that he realised he needn’t have worried.

Nia’s physical prowess with her powers outshone any limitations she may have faced without her visions. While she used her lasso to pull the weapons from the arms of the alien captors running towards them from the centre of the building, Brainy flew ahead to the metal beam holding up part of the grated ceiling where three aliens were attempting to spray their fire. Their surprise slowed their reaction timing just enough that Brainy was able to disarm two of them immediately, deflecting the third’s weapon with a raised forearm before it could discharge against his chest. Enabling his strength enhancement to warp the barrel of the gun, Brainy threw what remained aside, using his free hand to twist the alien’s arm towards him, forcing them to their knees.

Beneath him, Nia had knocked out the last of the primary guards who had been waiting for them, the glow of her hands a rival to his own life projectors in the low light.

They continued on as a unit after that, though Brainy kept a half step behind Nia as they moved deeper into the building, adamant to have her in his line of sight at all times. Whether Nia noticed, she didn’t say, but soon they were far too consumed with the next wave of alien guards to give it any acknowledgement.

By the time Kara had joined the fray, they’d left a tangle of unconscious forms in their wake from one side of the warehouse to the other. Brainy made a private note for later to retrieve some of the weapons for further study. He was sure Lena would be first in line to try and dissect such unique technology, especially ones with such an unusual signature.

“Alex said it was right up here,” Kara said, falling naturally into the lead of the impromptu line they’d formed.

“Awesome,” Nia said, the lack of enthusiasm in her voice not quite as unsubtle as she likely thought.

Brainy waited a nano-second for Nia to follow along before he moved up behind her, holding her in his periphery even as his eyes began to wander, logging everything he saw for later recall.

The warehouse was a vast series of large, empty rooms, long-since cleared out of any distinct features or machinery that may have marked it for a certain purpose. Perfect then, he concluded, to reconfigure into the optimum holding cell.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when he heard it. Something up ahead – a tinny, high-pitched hum that wrought havoc with his heightened senses. He hissed, cupping a hand over his ear at the same time as Kara.

“What is it?” Nia asked.

“What indeed,” Brainy muttered through his teeth, eyeing the space ahead of them carefully. “Kara? Can you see anything?”

Kara squinted. “There’s… there’s something up ahead. Movement.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “People.”

“The hostages,” Brainy and Nia said together, catching each other’s eye. Another smirk quirked the edges of Nia’s lips and she nodded at him, falling into a jog as he quickly caught up to her side.

They didn’t need to travel far to find the source of the sound. Just as Alex had predicted, the heart of the warehouse was exactly where they had needed to go.

Encased in a bubble at the centre of the room were a group of terrified aliens. They varied in age, though Brainy could see at their youngest a few that could have been teenagers amongst the group. This variant of the species had a pattern of brightly coloured pink spots that dusted the edges of their jaw and throat, matching in both vibrancy and shade to their large, glowing eyes. The spots on the guards Brainy had knocked down had all been orange, their eyes just the same. Aside from that, there were very little physiological differences between the two factions.

The energy bubble was mostly transparent aside from a sickly yellowish hue that softened the outlines of the captives inside. Brainy frowned, watching small refractions of light roll across the bubble like a wave, travelling further and further until they slipped suddenly out of sight behind a large metal disk clamped tightly to the ground.

There were three further identical disks fitted to the base of the bubble along the entire outer edge, perfectly equidistant from one another.

They were also, unquestionably, the largest source of energy output from anything within the entire building.

“That’s what was giving off the energy signature,” Brainy realised out loud. “Not the weapons… but this. Sprock, I should’ve known.”

“No one could have,” Nia said immediately. “Brainy, you couldn’t have accounted for everything, not when we hardly knew anything to begin with.”

“Even so,” Brainy muttered in distaste, studying the disks with analytical interest. He took a step forward, only holding himself back when he ran the risk of crossing past Nia. He bit his lip. “This shield, it’s quite impressive. Look.” He pointed the disks out one by one. “It’s being projected from multiple locations, but each one with enough power to create a bubble in of itself. It’s multi-layered, four times over. If we can deactivate them all, we should be able to disperse the force field.”

The aliens on the other side didn’t seem to hear him, but some of the younger ones had been watching his mouth move. They shouted words back at him, but Brainy was unable to read their lips in return. He wasn’t sure they were speaking a language he recognised at all. He turned to Kara curiously. “Can you--?”

She shook her head. “Not a peep. It’s completely soundproof.”

“Then it’s best we get to work as soon as possible,” Brainy said. He motioned for Kara to head towards the furthest disk, waiting for Nia to do the same before he followed up behind her.

Except, Nia didn’t move.

“Nia?” Brainy prompted.

Again, Nia didn’t respond.

Hesitantly, Brainy came closer, waiting for any sign of acknowledgement from his girlfriend.

None came. It was as though she’d been frozen in place, her arms stiff and unmoving at her sides, one foot held firmly in front of the other, caught and grounded mid-step. She was staring out at something, Brainy realised, but nothing he could see for himself.

Something was wrong.

Brainy knew Nia’s vision stance - how it looked, how it felt to see it happen so suddenly from an outsider’s perspective and this… this wasn’t it. Nia wasn’t beyond her second sight, traversing the unconscious realm. Instead, she was fully planted in the moment, an alertness bright behind her eyes, extending her senses outward, far past the capabilities of the human mind, firing neurons at sure-fire speed.

Whether Nia knew it or not, something was holding her in place – guiding her, maybe, or perhaps…

It was only then that Brainy realised what he was looking at.

“Stop!” the word was out of his mouth before his mind had finished calculating the outcome. He threw his hand out towards Kara. “Don’t take a step further!”

Kara stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide with confusion. “But you literally just said—”

“I know what I said, and I was wrong. It’s a trap.”

“What?”

Brainy wasn’t sure how, wasn’t even sure why, but he knew it. As surely as Nia did. The look in her eyes could only mean one thing.

He turned back towards the force field, capturing the aliens behind it in a new light. Their mouths had turned ugly; fine, pin-prick teeth bared at them all as they spat vulgar words in a language he was somewhat grateful he couldn’t translate.

It appeared the so-called hostages were hostages no longer.

It still didn’t make sense. Why would they even be there at all if only to lure them to this spot? What did they know that he didn’t?

Oh.

Brainy saw the metal disks with fresh eyes, identifying them for what they were behind their non-descript cone sized shells. The high pitched humming hadn’t been coming from the force field, it was coming from within the disks, not as an extension of the energy it outputted, but rather hiding the characteristics of what lay inside.

The energy signature they’d been tracking this whole time had been…

“They’re bombs,” Brainy realised.

He only had one thought left - the only one that mattered. He surged forward as quickly as he could, grabbing Nia’s unresponsive arm and dragging her with enough force to spur a lethargic stagger from her frozen legs. “We need to go. Now.”

Nia was too stiff to move with any real speed and with time of the essence, Brainy didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if she’d snap out of it naturally. Instead, he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring the alien rigidity of her body as he tucked her head beneath his chin. He shifted her into a more comfortable position, ascertaining he had a secure grip before locking eyes with Kara.

Thankfully, she understood immediately. With a single nod of acknowledgment, they took off together.

Just in time as well, because the moment Brainy launched from the ground, a piercing crack roared out from the force field behind him. He could smell the distinct snap and sizzle of something metallic singe the air before an explosion ruptured behind him, all but propelling he and Nia forward, hot air scorching across the back of his suit as the blast rung sharply in his ears.

They tumbled from the window Kara had first used to enter with little grace, spilling out across the sand and dirt, rolling over one and another as the once-warehouse behind them bent and warped beneath its own weight, creaking and groaning as the old metal failed to contain itself, collapsing inward as the scream of the explosion settled somewhere at its heart, sending shockwaves through the sand.

Brainy’s chest heaved sporadically as he pushed himself from Nia the moment they were grounded, brushing her hair back fiercely. He’d managed to shield her from the brunt of the explosion, protecting her from the collision with the ground with his own body as armour, and even still he feared the worst.

He cupped her face desperately, a sob of sheer relief catching in his throat when he heard her heartbeat, as resilient as ever, beyond the ringing of his own ears.

“Nia,” he said, trying to still the tremor in his voice. “Nia Nal, can you hear me?”

Dust and soot were smeared across Nia’s face, shadowing her eyes. Her lashes fluttered hard at the sound of his voice, trying desperately to breach the surface of her own consciousness. She groaned softly, reaching her hand out, brushing the tips of her fingers over Brainy’s face. They still felt electric with her energy, a jolt of static that caused an incomprehensible laugh to bubble from Brainy’s chest.

“What happened?” Nia croaked out. She cringed, trying to hold her eyes open.

Brainy only laughed harder at that, ducking his head towards her throat, closing his eyes to subdue the burn that followed.

“Uh, Nia,” Kara answered in Brainy’s steed, brushing her suit down as she stared up in awe at what little that remained of the warehouse. “I think you just saved our lives.”

“Cool… cool, totally meant do that.” Nia’s chest jerked a little beneath Brainy’s chin as she coughed, clearing her throat with strained effort. “Uh… how did I do that?”

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

Nia hardly remembered the journey back to the Tower.

She’d flown with Brainy, letting him cradle her close to his chest, protecting her from the high-speed gale that had threatened her hair and face at such an altitude.

It wasn’t usually as cold when they flew together, but she supposed they’d never needed to travel this far at such a strict pace before. Maybe that’s why she didn’t remember much - the whole trip barely felt like seconds.

She was still a little out of it an hour later. By then, she, Brainy and Kara had crowded down in the Tower’s cramped lab space, laying out pieces of debris that they’d managed to salvage from the site of the explosion.

She really wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly. One second, she’d been listening to Brainy explain the purpose for those weird disk things on the ground… then everything sort of stopped. She remembered that woozy feeling from before creeping back up on her, fogging up her head. Then, something had triggered deep inside of her, like an alarm only she could hear. It hadn’t made any noise, though. Instead, it had instilled a sense of foreboding so strong that she’d locked into place. Like a flash frozen statue right out of the Fortress.

Everything else came up blank after that – at least until she’d awoken in the sand with Brainy’s wide, panic-stricken eyes staring down at her.

She rolled her shoulder experimentally. Yup. Still no pain. Brainy had taken the brunt of the hit when they’d fled the explosion, and even though the nano fibres in his suit were already repairing some of the damage, there was still a nasty singe mark across his back, corroding the fine ends of his golden hair to charcoal. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, at least. The last thing she’d wanted was to get him hurt because of her. Because of yet another power that she seemed to have zero control over…

It was strange, she’d never felt anything like it before. At least, never that strong. She’d frozen in the past, even lost time, but she’d always attributed it to her visions messing her up.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“I still don’t understand,” Kara was saying, drawing Nia unwillingly back into the room. She’d been pacing up and down the lab as Brainy worked, worrying her lip so hard that Nia thought Kryptonian levels of friction burn was about to tear it off. “Was this just one big ruse?” She laughed darkly. “Were there even any hostages to begin with?”

“Hostages to the cause, maybe,” Brainy conceded, glancing up from the scattered shrapnel that littered his workbench. “Everyone involved in this ruse believed in what they were doing. It seems whatever differences these factions had, they had one thing in common.” He eyed her warily. “A severe distaste for all things Super Friend.”

“Us?” Kara asked, snorting her indignation. “And they were willing to sacrifice themselves for this?”

“Not exactly.” Brainy straightened. “In fact, I don’t believe they were ever in any danger at all.” He moved his hand swiftly, tossing something out to her. “They left with one of these.”

Kara caught it immediately, her hand blurring around the projectile. She stared at it in confusion.

Nia looked too. It was extremely battered, whatever it was, and very much exploded, but it looked like it might have been some sort of bracelet in its heyday.

Nia slipped from her stool curiously, lifting her head. “What is it?” she asked.

Brainy turned to her with a small smile, privately pleased that she’d joined in with the conversation. He folded his arms over his chest. “Crude portal technology,” he explained. “Less refined than Lena’s watch design, but just as effective. They must have left just before the explosion. There’s more.” He pressed a finger to his temple suddenly, his eyes scanning unseen information from left to right. He stiffened, turning to Kara gravely. “I’ve just received results in from the scan the DEO are running of the explosion site,” he said. “When those devices detonated, they released thousands of splintered shards of Kryptonite from each shell.” He blinked out from the details he’d been presented with, holding his fist loosely to his chest. “If even a piece had pierced your skin during the explosion…”

“I would have been just as vulnerable to the building’s collapse,” Kara realised. She stumbled to a halt. “If we’d been caught in that, we really never would have made it out.” She stared at Nia, dumfounded. “How did you know?”

Nia cringed. “I… didn’t,” she said, frowning. “I mean, I guess I did? Sometimes I just get a bad vibe about something and I lock up. It’s never felt like this before, though. I don’t even remember doing this, to be totally honest.”

“A latent effect of Naltorian precognition,” Brainy mused, a mark of appraisal in his eye. “The more at one a Naltorian becomes with their powers, the more naturally they interact with fragments of the future.”

Nia smirked, tipping her head gratefully towards her boyfriend. “What he said. It sounds cooler.”

Brainy’s expression softened as he walked towards her, twisting his ring finger contemplatively. “What you did today saved all of us,” he said, running his hand up her arm the moment he was within reaching distance. “Thank you.”

Nia’s face warmed, leaning into his touch appreciatively. “Any time.”

Kara, unsubtle as ever, cleared her throat loudly, clapping her hands together. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll go give the bad news to Alex, then,” she announced, backing towards the open arch. “If those aliens are still out there, there’s no telling what they’ll do next to get our attention.”

Brainy, clueless as ever, raised a brow in question. “That isn’t necessary, I can relay the information directly to her. I can do it now—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Kara said hurriedly, already halfway across the training room. She threw a wink over her shoulder. “Some things are better delivered in person!”

Brainy watched her go, utterly perplexed. “I suppose that’s true…”

Nia bit her cheek, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “I think she just wanted to give us some time, y’know, alone…”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Brainy leaned in a little closer at that indication, his dark eyes flickering across her face with barely disguised concern, searching for any inconsistences. Nia was pretty sure he’d find some; after all, she was still rattled from everything that had happened. At least the weird daze she’d been walking around in was starting to lift, like whatever she’d done back at the warehouse had knocked the consciousness right back into her.

More importantly, it looked a whole lot like Brainy knew that, too.

Nia squinted at him suspiciously. “So,” she said, drawing out the word just long enough to make him uncomfortable, “how long have you known I could do this?”

Brainy’s hand stilled across her shoulder, his eyes skirting to hers a little unwillingly. He scoffed unconvincingly, suddenly finding the circumference of his ring much more appealing than checking her over for an underlying concussion. “I didn’t know,” he said, glancing away. “Not with a one hundred per cent certainty, at least.”

Nia laughed, jabbing his chest. “I knew it,” she cried. “How? No, no, wait, lemme guess; the future, right?”

Brainy’s jaw hardened in defeat. “It is true that Nura did display a similar ability back in the Legion.” He pointedly ignored her as she continued to prod at his suit smugly. “Naltorian abilities can develop very differently dependant on the element they inherit. You have already become so well adept with your abilities, there had always been a chance that this particular power might never manifest.”

“But now it has,” Nia said. She loosened her hand against Brainy’s front, searching out the heat of his closest life projector. She smiled when Brainy blushed in kind, winding his hand around hers. Not to deter her, but to guide her.

Nia blinked away from the trance-like state of that soft, enticing glow. “Wait. Is this power going to get me in trouble?” She looked up at her boyfriend seriously. “Like… what if Cat’s in a really bad mood one day and I just freeze up right in front of her?” Her face fell abjectly. “She’d never take me seriously again!”

Brainy’s lips twitched fondly. “Although I don’t dispute that Cat’s moods are a force to be reckoned with, I wouldn’t expect this power to manifest again unless you were in a true life or death situation.”

“You never know with Cat Grant,” Nia said gravely.

She and Brainy shuddered at the same time, but there was a playful affection in Brainy’s eyes.

She kept trailing her fingers around his life projectors for a time, content to idle while he finished checking her over for any possible side effects or injuries that might have been overlooked. She didn’t think he had to worry. In fact, since they’d started talking, she was really starting to get her energy back.

“So tell me,” she said with a grin. “This power. Does it have a name in the future?”

Brainy smiled privately, like he was in on a joke that she didn’t know. “Officially no, however Nura did pen a name for it.” He leaned in close, as though to share an important secret. “She called it The Stare.”

Nia snorted, holding her mouth closed. She hummed thoughtfully, drumming her fingers across her lips. “The Stare, huh? Simple, but intense. I kinda like it.”

“I thought you might.”

Impulsively, Nia’s eyes lit up and she quickly pecked Brainy on the cheek. A further blush deepened the green in his complexion. Nia grinned. “Thank you,” she said in explanation. “For getting me out of there today. Sensing danger’s not worth anything if you can’t even respond to it.”

“You will learn in time to become more conscious of it,” Brainy promised. He took her hand again, squeezing it tightly. Nia squeezed back, ducking her head towards his, closing her eyes. A crackle of dream energy rolled over her knuckles, enveloping their clasped hands in blue flame. “But, as always,” he told her gently, “I will have your back, Nia Nal.”

Nia opened her eyes, her smile fading from her lips. “Wait. This means more training, doesn’t it?”

Brainy didn’t need to say a word, she could see the humour in his eyes already.

“Nooo,” Nia groaned, tipping her chin towards the ceiling. “Promise me we’re not doing 5am starts again, okay? No amount of coffee or breakfast burritos will ever make me okay with 5am starts. Dreamer needs her sleep!”

Brainy nodded innocently, bumping his forehead against hers. “Duly noted.”

Nia only scowled, though she still found herself leaning into his touch reflexively. "That wasn't a promise, Brainy!"

#supergirl #brainia #brainiac 5 #nia nal #kara zor el #kara danvers #jammatown919 #my writing #my asks #this turned out to be a lot longer than anticipated but i hope you like it!#supergirl fanfiction #brainia fanfiction

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azreactstowormtheserial · 5 months

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I should probably do this at more regular intervals! [5.7-6.X]

Guess how I spent my sunday afternoon! I'll try and do this every, like, 3 chapters, maybe? Because fuck, there's a lot to talk about. Let me try and do it in order. Arc 5 (.7 onwards) So, the Lung rematch honestly took me by surprise. The whole arc did, really? Going from a pretty depressing but harshly real depiction of what happens to girls like Taylor, to 'Fuck it, let's fuck shit up', to Lung is back! Already! It's Arc 5! I was so sure his escape and reappearance was going to be a big thing the characters dreaded and came back to bite them at the last moment, but-- And yeesh, was 5.9 a chapter. There's a certain passage in the introductory page for Worm: "Morality isn’t black and white, Taylor and her acquaintances aren’t invincible, the heroes aren’t winning the war between right and wrong ..." Every fight has me at the edge of my seat. Last year for me's been pretty brutal for media depicting major-character-deaths like it's no big deal-- and the moment Lung came back, I was so sure someone was dead. I thought it might've been-- and after the interlude, real glad it wasn't-- Newter. But somehow, everyone managed to get off scott-free. And after the fiasco that was Arc 6-- we'll get there!-- I just don't know how long this'll last. Even for the Undersiders. Which makes me want to predict deaths. I think because of the phrasing of the opening page, I know that Taylor is the POV character as a standard, and interludes are the exception. So unless this does some huge POV-shift, I think she's safe. From death, not from anything else. I am not entertaining the thought of Lisa's death. Brian and Alec, though? I don't know. I don't know about Alec at all, actually. He's kind of a scary guy? Horrifyingly subtle power, but really scarily applied in Arc 6. He's low-key one of the strongest, at least potential wise, in The Undersiders. I think Brian is going to have more story to him, now that his past's all been laid out? But later on, I just can't say. I really hope he doesn't, he means a lot to Taylor, and he's a good shoulder to lean on. Rachel-- 'Bitch'? I can't remember if she prefers one or the other... -- is a little harder to talk about. It was hard to like her after how she introduced herself! Mauling the POV character practically unprovoked isn't a good first impression. But, like Taylor's described, I feel, she's started to grow on me. Arc 5 touched on her character and personality in a nice way. I'd already started to sympathize with her come the end of Arc 4, rather than just view her as a begrudingly amazing tool for the team, but the dynamic between her and Taylor in Arc 5 was peak. She gave her her jacket!

Arc 5 Interlude This is really sweet! It left Arc 5 off on a high note. 'Kinda. I don't know what to make of the 5.X interlude. It was interesting. Newter was nice to see again. Flatline was intriguing to get a closer look at. Gregor is a strange person, but so-- I don't know if blunt is the right word, but 'sincere'-- almost refreshingly so given the web of deception going on in every other Arc-- that I liked him by the end. What I don't know what to make of in particular is the tattoos. Does it imply that there's a different-type of origination for parahuman powers? Is it artificial? I don't know! But I'm interested in finding out! Arc 6 Anyway, that was what, 4 chapters' thoughts? Let's talk about Arc 6. I started off my liveblog talking about how one of the most interesting plot threads was the growing inner-struggle Taylor has of working with The Undersiders and having agreed to double-cross them. Something I neglected to mention as well, was Taylor's dad, Danny. Straight from the get-go, both of these are the spotlight. They almost seem to slowly be intertwining the further the Arc goes on-- something I felt especially towards the end, and a final decision Taylor makes. If it wasn't painfully clear already, I like how this arc brings to the forefront how muddy the line between traditional 'good and evil' is. Armsmaster is blatantly not-good. He does not seem to value what is right and what is wrong, and-- while we do not see inside his mind-- Taylor does, and that his reputation is above all else is very telling. Luckily, he gets what he deserves. Cue my favorite passage of the serial so far:

Actually has me grinning while reading this chapter. It is unlikely Armsmaster is the only Hero that isn't all too much of one. I'm certainly not the most researched on the subject, but the parallels between Heroes and the Cops of today seem to be a major theme. With Coil entering the picture-- and, what a fucking reveal, by the way!-- I can't imagine this idea is going to take a backseat any time soon. I don't know much about Coil, and by his own words, he is not a good person. But as the only person striving for meaningful change-- whether his methods are morally sound or not-- I think I'd feel more comfortable with Skitter under his wing than, say, Armsmaster's. From his actions and his one-chapter-of-glory alone, he's a character I'm interesting in looking out for. Arc 6 made me cry! This will likely be a running theme, as I'm warned. 6.9 in particular is where it got me. That shit was crushing. As someone that struggles with anger, I admire Danny for keeping as collected as he did given the circumstance. He really does love her, and it's awful that Taylor's gotten so deep into things so quickly that she just can't be honest with him. Not until he knows what she is, and what she does. I thought Danny and Taylor's relationship was going in a healthy direction, after the incident in the mall, but I think that was just far too wishful thinking, with how everything was going to play out. ..Conversely, it looks like Taylor is figuring herself out. Writing that letter I think finally helped her analyse what she was doing, what she cared about, and what she wanted-- contextualized after finally learning about Coil and his intentions, and everything she and The Undersiders'd been through up until now. It was a powerful moment-- burning it especially. And maybe my favorite ending to an arc so fa-- Oh! Wait! There's an interlude! This is horrifying! It sure didn't shy down from takes about law and justice! The idea of a Rogue is interesting, and one I didn't even consider in the context of the world just yet. Apparently, the world's still working on that front, too. 'Making an example' of someone in a legal context is terrifying enough. That example being that the use of powers in any altercation, if you aren't grinning and willing to be part of the governments personal army of upholding the status quo, is LIFE IMPRISONMENT IN THE MONSTER DUNGEON-- like, fuck. If this is the system Heroes are defending, it's a little bit beyond muddied good and evils, it's a swamp.

Here is a bisexual Newter as a treat for making it this far among my ramblings. (thank you, mischievious magpie.) I'm sorry that they're so -rambly-! I had a lot of thoughts, and couldn't even get all of them down! Like, here's a few more bonus-thoughts: -The way Taylor via Newter-poison fucking owned Lung was rad as hell! - This!

But, yeah. I just wanted to get this out so I could keep going this evening, and on my walk. I'll stop again at 7.4-ish, and write my thoughts so this doesn't happen again. I certainly won't do more than an arc at a time. Az out!

#worm liveblog #wormblr #liveblog #liveblogging #worm web serial #worm spoilers #ramblings

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tricksterrune · 3 months

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Rune REALLY hates grading papers

Brace yourself, it's that time again. I have to finish these today so I can return them tomorrow. block the tag runehatesgradingpapers if you don't want to see me struggling through a substantial part of a profession I've chosen.

At least I've had a mental breakthrough and realized that part of why I hate grading papers so much is that

a) I much prefer creating papers (and projects and worksheets)

b) I can work more efficiently if I have already created the exams or tests and that stress is taken care of

c) I hate leaving things to the last minute (thank you ADHD. I genuinely hate it. I'm at a point where I don't have to delay making the exams but instead grading them takes to the very last possible day

d) and that was the realization: Creating the exam is work that comes easy to me and is easily shared - 10 exams that have been written this term were created by me (wait, I forgot a bunch, it's closer to 20). I have saved others hours of work. BUUUUUT....no one can take over grading. I can't ask someone else to take care of it. (No really, it's illegal. I can't have someone else grade tests for my classes). I can never get something in turn from others that is equally helpful. I have colleagues who told me they'd rather grade 10 papers than create one test. I'm the opposite - I'd happily create 10 tests before grading one. Creating is a task than can be shared but not grading. And I hate that I'm being left alone with it, that no one can take this burden from me.

e) and it's paired with one of my character flaws: placing high expectations on others. Others doing less than what I expect actually stresses me out to no end. I often feel like I can't rely on others, in this case my colleagues on a professional level. I wouldn't leave creating a test for a Friday lesson until Thursday evening. I wouldn't, when trying to find a suitable text, always pick a schoolbook from a different publisher and copy that text regardless if it fits the length, difficulty or topic - just because that one has a solution sheet. Intellectually I know that reinventing the wheel is pointless, we all have demands on our time and good enough is enough in most cases. I suspect it's a leftover from a childhood where only excellence would get me noticed at all and anything less was never good enough. It's the question of "why are you allowed to get away with it and I'm not?" Which, places an unfair burden on others. No one has to live by my standards. It's the "It has to be perfect. To make up for the fact that it's me." thing.

And guess what? I've successfulyl stopped myself from working for another 20 minutes. I really would do anything than grading papers. I think it's time to hang up the laundry. I'm going to do that and then try another way to force myself to work.

I really hate grading papers.

#runehatesgradingpapers #ihategradingpapers #vent #personal stuff

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mycolalia · 1 month

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i will now think about corti and mosslark interacting though which is something i had not that i can remember

im chatty tonight im in too much pain to work on the stuff i want too

i think

i think that if corti and mosslark both survived the crash, corti would cleave to them and never leave

like i think in that situation it would be a better result for both of them

mosslark would not enter into a romantic relationship with astarion, which

spoiler for the longfic i guess but yknow gestures at how it's probably not being added too for at least six months

they don't last as partners. i chewed it over a bunch. they take the "i think you need a friend more than a lover" route in their canon. both of them have pretty complex feelings about it and some mutual bitterness, though it mellows into actual enduring friendship of a sort.

so yeah corti and moss would end up locked in orbit with each other. they'd be able to see each other, corti would be desperately grateful for someone who is patient with him and explains what they are thinking and defines the terms they use.

mosslark would be fascinated by him, a little frightened, but seeing someone so lost and confused and who also has

unusual physiology and preferences

would help ground them a lot in the early days of the crash where they are desperately trying to make themselves useful so they don't get their throat slit and left on the side of the road, which is very much the driving concern for mosslark in the first few chapters of EE. they would be capable of Translating for corti, and corti would functionally become their bodyguard

gale would also survive because i think corti's pod would crash in the wetland

ultimately

real they said they didn't want any pickles energy for both of them interacting with each other

mosslark would be devastated after the death of alfira, which in this situation would inherently make them wonder if they would have been the target instead if she hadn't shown up and

yes

they would have

corti would absolutely be compelled to try and kill them. the urges would be feral around mosslark for the same reason they are with alfira and isobel. but after alfira's murder moss would sit and talk to corti for hours and hours and try to help him understand why he did it and how he was feeling and what drove it.

which, inherently, would ensure corti would fight like hell to warn them in act 2 when they'd get picked as his nearest and dearest.

act 2 would be very challenging for their friendship, but mosslark wouldn't turn away from him

corti still cleaves to halsin as well. gets on pretty well with gale now he's not dead. helps mosslark understand and get on with gale sooner. mosslark would still be a good friend to astarion, but they'd be much closer to the others as a result of not being sucked into the gravity well there.

corti would probably still accept the alliance offer. mosslark would make the effort to try and help him socialize with the others, including karlach (corti avoids her because she is on fire, and fire actually hurts him), so he would be much more conflicted about doing so, but his desire for open information would still win out

they'd have an actual fight about that, as much as corti fights with anyone. their conflicting ethical standards would be a major source of friction

mosslark would be the one grabbed by orin, i expect

the combined influence of halsin AND mosslark AND karlach would make him less inclined to fight to reclaim what he had with gortash, but this would be isolating and alienating in a different way. i'd need to turn over how corti would respond to gale existing.

much to think about

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not-a-space-alien · 1 year

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Savage Sunset Choose Your Own Adventure 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Story masterpost

All entries in the CYOA

You are a new vampire hunter. Your primary motivation is curiosity... You want to learn more about vampires. These mysterious creatures that terrorize humanity. Becoming a vampire hunter is really the only way to do that... Maybe that's what Nick did, to learn more.

Unlike Nick, you work in the field. You had a close-call with a vampire in your past. The only thing that had saved you from that fate were the hunters, and now you're one too, to protect others from having to experience that. That's a secondary reason, but... it does feel good to do something noble, and to protect others, even if you're here mostly because you want to get closer to vampires. What's the harm in sating your curiosity while you're at it?

You're partnered up with Felix. He seemed the nicest out of all of them, the easiest to work with, although you're honestly a little worried if he has the stomach for this line of work or not. Abbey and Brian pair up with each other and leave you alone, although they're still working at the same branch as you.

Felix tells you Nick is doing experiments on a live vampire to make the guild's vampire-hunting equipment more effective. Apparently it's been working very well and is keeping more hunters alive and safe, but he's heard from most of the other hunters on the base that it involves basically torturing the captive vampire that Nick has in the basement.

You feel guilty about that. That's horrible, even if it saves lives. Felix doesn't seem particularly happy about it either.

"Yeah, that's... pretty bad, right? I don't feel great about it, but I've heard this is a particularly bad vampire, even by vampire standards. Still, I feel like nothing justifies torture, you know? It's not what I'd prefer, but if it saves lives....I dunno. Well..."

"Don't let that get you down, I'm still looking forward to working with you. I think we'll make a great team! We're gonna protect a lot of people, and we fight vampires. We're not gonna do anything horrible like that. Let's just focus on the job and keeping each other safe, all right?"

@aceouttatime

@annablogsposts

@cc1010foxy

@darlingwhump

@emcscared-whumps

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@some-thrilling-heroics

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpycries

@whumpsday

@zillastar13

#my writing #SSCYOA #interactive story #interactive whump #vampire whumpee #whump #whumpblr

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thatoneguy031 · 9 months

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💦 -Samurotts' seamitars vary in shape and style from Samurott to Samurott, don't they? I think yours might be closer to the Sabre style, considering you're from Unova!

Actually, you're not wrong! Samurotts do have small distinctions in their seamitars, and it varies a lot between individual cases!

I've heard about this ancient variant that has terribly crooked ones. I'm pretty sure those ones have some kind of Sinnoh origin, based on a few stories I've heard.

If you've watched the show Demon Slayer, you know about that guy that wears the Emboar head, right? His blades are serrated as well, and he uses them almost like saws(I'm not gonna tell you when, because that show is amazing and I don't want to give spoilers). Anyways, I assume that that's how the more ancient variants of Samurott used those blades.

About mine, however, they're more... I dunno what you call them, standard?? I genuinely have no clue what you'd call it. You ever play Breath of the Wild? My seamitars are like large Feathered Edges with a bit of curve to them. But, take that with a grain of salt; I'm the exception, not the rule. I can pretty much guarantee that most Unovan Samurotts have a Sabre-styled blade, although it even further varies depending on how much training an individual had done as a Dewott.

A few other facts about our blades:

Many Samurotts' seamitars are shaped upon evolution, dependent on how they used their scallops as a Dewott, along with how they trained themselves. That's why so many Pokedexes say that we have to master our fighting style before we evolve.

Our seamitars are really precious to us. Since we aren't born with them, we can't just grow them back. I mean, we can if they're just chipped or something, but that's implying that we can put them back in our sheaths. If they're lost or totally destroyed, we're just out of luck. My rule of thumb is that you shouldn't lose more than 2/3 of a sword, and it should always be the hilt that you recover first.

The hilt is always hardest to regenerate, as if the process already didn't take months, and that part could end up misshapen or deformed if one chooses to grow their blade back starting from the sharp end. It's like a human breaking a bone, minus the physical pain.

That being said, most seamitars are pretty durable. Sure, they get dirty very easily, but they're safe if the attack hitting it is weaker than, let's say, a Sun-boosted Solar Beam.

Many Samurotts use both seamitars at once in combat, but not all of them. I, for instance, only use both if I start to get really, really desperate in a fight.

In cases like that, which blade that's used is simply based on preference. In my case, I'd use my left seamitar more often since I'm right-handed, and it'd be vice versa for a Samurott that's left-handed.

It's possible for an Oshawott or Dewott to evolve without their scallops. As a result, they may not have any arm guards/sheaths as a Samurott, since their bodies would consider them no longer necessary. In that case, a Pokecenter nurse might get them metal replacements. They're most like prosthetics, if that helps you visualize them, but they're pretty expensive from what I've heard.

Some Dewotts that lose their scallops don't like getting replacements, as they see it as dishonorable. From their point of view, they're getting rewarded for breaking an unspoken rule.

Many people assume that they can feed their Samurotts foods that have high amounts of calcium for their seamitars, but that's not the case. It has to be specifically calcium carbonate, and it can't be too much at a time either, as it could negatively affect our ability to use water-type moves. Trust me, it's a sad sight.

Speaking of calcium carbonate, Samurotts are known to be primarily carnivorous, but don't be opposed to give us some almond milk, where it's used as a dietary calcium. Plus, it's really good!

Anyways, I hope this answers your question, dude!

#pokemon #samurott #pkmn irl #ask #answered #the-one-from-dres #ask game

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modern-inheritance · 3 months

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Modern Inheritance Picrews (pt. 1): OG Elf Squad

I was recently tagged on my main blog to make OCs with this picrew and ended up making a few of the MIC versions of Inheritance characters, or at least as close as I can get. I enjoyed the process, and since I can't really draw all that well I thought I'd make more and post them here with some short descriptions of the character appearances as they are in MIC. I used Photoshop and Illustrator to make some edits (Glen's being the roughest) to try and get closer to what I had in mind.

Up first! The OG elf squad!

Fäolin

A handful of years older than Arya at the time of his death, Fäolin was quite young by elf standards, and somehow managed to look both the most human and the most alien of his companions. His eyes, frequently altered to even further increase his darkvision and distance vision for sniping, were always somewhat oblong at the pupils and were a striking green-and-gold hazel. Unlike other elves, Fäolin chose to attempt growing some facial hair through magic, and altered his hair color from the typical black seen in many elves to a rich chestnut worn short at the sides with a tufted ponytail. He was playful and lighthearted, always smiling slightly even during missions, and loved to gently tease his friends. A dark orange and yellow tattoo of a coiled Fanghur decorated his left shoulder, a symbolic gesture of solidarity with his mate, Arya, as well as a nod to the nickname of 'Wind Viper' that some of the Varden gave him after years of sniping high up above the battlefield with frightening accuracy, as though his targets were frozen in place as the Fanghur froze their prey with mental attacks.

Glenwing (Glen)

(I attempted to superimpose a rough aprox of his prosthetic over one of the hands but uh...it sure is an attempt.)

Glenwing, or Glen as most know him, is around 20 years Arya and Fäolin's senior. Born to a healer and a warrior in Ilirea before the Fall, he was old enough to have decent memories of the battles that took place and the effects it had on those around him. After the final battle saw his parents slain, the young elfling dedicated himself to learning healing arts of both body and mind while training to eventually fight back. With his father's bright silver hair tied back and his mother's deep golden eyes, Glen typically looks serene and thoughtful, each movement and word given the time it deserves. This not to say, however, that he is any less deadly than his companions, nor that he does not hold the peculiar wild, near feral energy that Arya so frequently displays. Glenwing knows every way to kill you, and could do so, unarmed and without magic, with incredible accuracy and efficiency. His training to heal gives him insight into biology of elves, dwarves and humans, to the point that he can identify weaknesses and target them on the fly during battle. This makes close quarters combat his forte, and he prefers crossing blades and bare handed fighting to long distance, which lead to the scar across his cheek during a battle with Forsworn-trained soldiers.

During the ambush that set the events of the main story in motion, Glenwing was catastrophically injured and lost his left arm just above the elbow. After months of rehabilitation and work with Rhunön he gained use of a prosthetic made of a combination of low quality brightsteel scrap, aramid weave, and spidersilk plate that moves with him as though it were his own flesh. It still requires constant maintenance and care, something Arya takes over when they return to the field together, and he has his own problems with phantom pain and the trauma associated with not only the loss but his near fifty years of constant war. Due to his time away from it all, though, and his own training in mental health counseling and psychology, Glen has a better grasp on managing his symptoms of PTSD than most. He still has weekly nightmares, often waking up feeling as though his body is on fire and his arm is being crushed, but he manages his sleep cycles and religiously practices the self care he needs to make his life easier and have the energy needed to help others consistently. Despite all the pain, though, Glen would be the first to say he would not trade it for the world. He is doing what he loves, making a difference in the fight, and doing it all next to one of his best friends.

Arya

The scruffiest and scrappiest elf currently walking the lands of Alagaësia, Arya's the young commander of her now only two person squad (including herself) of special forces commandos originally set to protect Eragon, Saphira and Brom. After seventy years of combat, war and politics, Arya's given up on adhering to elvish tradition of prim, proper and put-together in favor of living life in a warzone for the sake of Alagaësia's free peoples. Scars are earned and frequently left unhealed unless life threatening, dirt is considered free camouflage, and having five minutes of calm to tame whatever's come loose from hairbands is a luxury. Brom has told her to invest in a headband, but she keeps losing them.

With Islanzadi's pitch black hair and Evandar's emerald eyes, Arya is fairly striking when you can get her to stay still long enough. A wild, near feral energy roils under her skin and shows itself with bared tooth smiles full of mischief, and full of the naturally sharp teeth most elves sang away in their early years. The scar through her eyebrow is a reminder of a fight long since passed, but the fresh nick on her jaw, scar matted wrists and back, are all badges of pride for what she endured in Gil'ead. There are plenty other scars, but most are concealed by the elf's ever present combat jacket.

PTSD is something the entire squad dealt with before the ambush, but after Gil'ead Arya has taken a particularly hard hit to her mental health. Sleep can come, but it doesn't stay easy, and Arya typically goes two or three nights without more than a handful of hours of sleep. Elves can easily survive on four hours a night, and while six hours every three days can be livable, sleep debt builds up over time. She staves it off through meditation, but Glenwing has been pushing her to reestablish a proper cycle as they both know putting off sleep just intensifies the nightmares and Recall that frequently wake her up. It's a difficult pattern to establish, though, and every other month typically sees Arya with dark rings around her eyes until she relents to Glenwing and sleeps a solid night through with the aid of magic and a hell of a lot of talk therapy afterwards.

Arya's behavior and appearance, though in some ways distinctly elven, falls in the middle of human and elf. Called a mongrel by some of the more...brash...elven youth, Arya honestly couldn't care less, though she draws the line at disrespect towards her comrades and fallen brothers and sisters in arms, no matter their race. Even though her actions no longer serve just the elves, Arya's proud of her service. She's proud to stand beside Glen again and properly take on the role of Eragon and Saphira's bodyguard, even if they sometimes don't quite need it.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the inheritance cycle #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #Arya #arya drottningu #glenwing #glen (inheritance)#Faolin #og elf squad #picrew #I have more for these guys coming up both pre and post ambush #im fixated on scars right now no idea why #picrew modern inheritance #mi art #mic art #I completely lost the plot with Arya's sorry #brain not talking good right now

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