#and I think Kerry having someone that just gets him and understands him without words is also super cathartic

[gigaguy]

Exposing lies in Canonseeker's anti-Fixing RWBY blog.

Below this link to Canonseeker's blog is a revised repost of my qoute reblog before I was blocked. Despite Canonseeker being made explicitly aware of the very real problems in their blog, they refuse to edit it and have covered it up with reblogs and deletion of messages.

I'm also utilizing Canonseeker's tags (in addition to others) to get this exposed to as many people as possible.

Canonseeker's Blog:

My OG Response Post:

So a lot of these “points” about the Fixing RWBY show are blatantly false, and I’m going to show that with evidence from both the rewrite and the canon RWBY. I won’t be talking about the points that came down to: “this was changed/added and I personally don’t like it so it’s bad,” (which is most of them) as all that is entirely subjective and best saved for direct discussion.

I also noticed that repeats of the exact same points and the FRWBY crew’s own opinions outside of the quality of the rewrite were used to artificially increase the point number, which just comes off as desperate. But anyway here are the points and evidence in no particular order.

"Apparently the artists on the project do not get paid. They work for “exposure”.

False. The artist's VOLUNTEERED for Fixing RWBY because they're interested and enjoy supporting. They were not promised exposure nor is that what they were seeking. Here's it straight from one of the artists themselves.

"Raymond meanwhile repeatedly insults CRWBY and calls himself superior, while claiming that Miles and Kerry deserve no respect from him. Apparently, according to their discord and their youtube channel, loving and respecting RWBY proper makes you a “toxic simp”

Lumping the two of these together because they fall under the same "Phoenix hates everything about canon RWBY" propaganda Canonseeker and their friends are trying to push.

Now unless you think giving criticism AND praise to CRWBY writers is Phoenix saying that they "deserve no respect" from him, than this is another blatant lie.

As for the claim that Phoenix & crew feel that if you enjoy canon RWBY you're a "toxic simp," it REALLY should go without saying that the amount of time and effort the entire team put into Fixing RWBY shows how much they love the show, but here's the words straight from Phoenix once again.

And this.

"One of the artists claim that Yang is a party girl."

Yes because she is and CRWBY agrees, so this shouldn't be a "problem" directed at one of the FRWBY artist's for stating a canon fact.

“Raven is now trash-talking Summer to Yang’s face, calls Vernal worthless, and cuts ties with her tribe at the end of V5… NONE of this is Raven….”

Canon Raven:

Yeah no, all of what OP mentioned minus “cuts ties with the tribe” is canon Raven. And what’s funny is in the rewrite she doesn’t even cut ties with her tribe in the first place.

Skip to 59:30 in the video below.

Shiloh is the one that cuts ties with Raven and makes the tribe leave HER.

Watch. The rewrite. Before making blogs. Please.

Also notice Raven’s face in the image below as she calls Vernal worthless, heck just listen to how her voice breaks up while she’s talking about her. People, don’t let misinterpretations and out of context quotes give you a specific opinion, watch the material yourself.

The WF is no longer a civil rights group, extremist or otherwise.

The WF is literally the same as how Blake explained it to Sun in canon. Go to 10:17 in the video below.

I really don’t understand how someone can just lie about something that is readily available for people to check out themselves at any time.

“Not only is Roman now the protagonist of FRWBY, and given far more screentime than any of the RWBY protagonists”

Here’s a fun challenge for everyone, starting from Fixing RWBY Part 3, (skip the History, Lore and Response videos in the playlist below) scrub through all of the episodes and see how many times Roman shows up compared to the RWBY girls.

Spoiler for the result: Roman is NOT shown more times than the all the RWBY protagonists, not even close. Neither Roman nor any other male characters get an "excessive" amount of screen time compared to the female characters like Canonseeker claimed. And this would be very obvious to anyone that actually watches the series all the way through.

“The entire Brunswick arc in V6? It’s now devoted to Roman.”

Fixing RWBY hasnt even reached Volume 6 yet...it JUST wrapped up Volume 5..(check the playlist).. once again another blatant lie.

“Salem has YET to make an appearance…that is to say, she is discussed, but despite being in v3, v4, and v5, has not been shown in any way shape or form once.”

SHE’S RIGHT THERE. She shows up in the Battle of Haven just as she does in canon! Holy hell man this is embarrassing-

Now as you can see, Canonseeker’s (ironic name) blog is just downright unreliable. They didn’t watch Fixing RWBY, they just either based it entirely on word of mouth from people like the ones they thanked at the end of their blog, or they did watch all of them and just intentionally lied to slander Fixing RWBY. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the latter given the discussions I’ve had with them directly.

Like I said at the start, I didn’t even talk about most of the things in Canonseekers's blog as I just wanted to expose their notable lies and double standards that can’t be argued one way or the other whatsoever. And trust me, I (and I’m sure a ton of others) have LOTS to say about those other warped and out of context takes, but I’ll just take that to the comments. I just wanted to get this out quickly as to not let something so maliciously dishonest stand on it’s own.

Everyone involved with this should be ashamed to have let this slide, and I highly recommend you make a new one without all the lies Canonseeker.

Remember, it’s perfectly fine to not like Fixing RWBY and express that, but it’s something else entirely to intentionally LIE about it just because YOU don’t like it and don’t want others to watch and like it either.

#rwby #rwby fandom #anti rwde #celtic phoenix #roman torchwick #rwby is a good show #fixing rwby #rwde #raymond mcneil #rwby does not need fixing #rwby discourse #rwby discussion #rwby critical #frwby #rwby au #hatedom #hatedom logic #rwby stans #toxic positivity #lying for agendas #rwby meta #rwby criticism #Youtube #rwby fanfiction #rwby art #rwby fanfic #defending rwby #crwby #crwby critical

[mrssimply]

Kerry and V... could we have 14 from the kisses list? 👉👈

Of course! God I love this one! Once again, if you haven't read it, Hrimthur filled it too, here.

I started with this one cause it was the one that came easier, but I've received the other prompts too and am working on it and being SO EXCITED about it! Thank you thank you for prompting this one!

So here is A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished. // Kerry x V

And I overwrote again! So I've decided to limit myself to 2000 words for each prompts, and really try to work on being concise and to the point. But here anon, you get a whole page of... poetic ranting? Before we get to the scene. Hope you'll still like it.

And yes, I gave it a title, because I love giving title to things. And I only proofread it once, so please excuse me for any mistakes. Will try to fix it later, but I wanted to answer before starting on my day!

L’heure la plus sombre est toujours juste avant l’aube

The darkest hour is always right before dawn

It’s been six months. Six months since he abandoned V on the edge of Night-City and got into a cab without looking back.

It’s been six months. Kerry tried his best not to count them, but it was etched in his brain like a countdown do doomsday. As the clock neared the fateful allotted time, Kerry felt his anxiety grow and with it, the Regrets.

He had tried telling himself that V, for all he had come crashing into his life to literally save him from his own shadows, was just a kid. Fifty years separated them, they were just not on the same page. V couldn’t understand what it meant to him to finally create again, to have the tunes dance in his head, ripe for the taking. He knew his life was reaching the end, he could count on twenty years, maybe thirty more, before even science wouldn’t be able to guard him from the grave. V’s life was just beginning, if he survived the next months. He was just a kid.

He tried telling himself they weren’t meant to be, that they were too different, even if you put aside the age gap. V was a merc, a gun for hire. He killed people for a living for fuck sake! Kerry internally groused, resorting to anger to hide the pain. Whereas he was a musician, a lawful citizen of NC, and a celebrity. His deal was to be exposed under the bright lights of success, adulation and worship. V was a being of shadows, who thrived in darkness, secrecy and anonymity. They were just not meant to be.

He tried telling himself they had been fools, both of them, to think this could be love. What had taken over V to ask him to come along with the Aldecaldo in the first place, where their relationship - if there had even been one at the time - could be counted in minutes? They had shared a few kisses, a handful of nights and as many days. And what had taken over him to even think about accepting? Of course, he wasn’t going to leave NC! It was his territory, and he had fought for it, pissed all over the edges just to mark it as his own. They had both been fools.

But in the end, all that rationalization couldn’t save him from the abject pain of heartbreak.

Twenty years to live together was still good, even only six months were still good if it meant watching him smile with all the innocence of someone his age. He would have kept V a secret, his own little treasure, hoarding it in his villa and worshipping him properly in the dark. He was glad he had been a fool, fool in love once more, where he had though he was too old for that but there was no denying it: for V, he would, should, have left NC.

As the light came off and he walked off-stage, the feeling was even more pronounced: a minute under the sun couldn’t chase the shadow away. Only V’s smile and warm hands over his skin could, it seemed. He had traded the one good thing in his life, a gift the universe had handed him as a reward for his trials, and he had… let it go. In the desert. With asphalts rats. Never to be seen again.

Kerry went through the motions of post-concert debrief with half his mind and half his soul. It was a state he was only too familiar with. He had forgotten it wasn’t a right state, until V had come in his life and woken him up once more. And now he could really appreciate the irony of his actions as his heart and his soul went to sleep once again. The label was happy though, because the fans were happy, and happy fans meant happy numbers. Kerry smiled, once again evaluating his gains in this bargain. Why did it feel like a deal with the devil?

He went straight home, surprising everyone because he refused even a drink. Oh, Kerry craved a drink, but not in public, because he intended to drink the whole bottle, straight from it, and pass out on his couch just to forget he even had a heart in the first place. The organ was beating sluggishly in his ribs, and every two pumps, it ached.

Coming home, he was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t register the bike in the alley until he was out of the Aerondight and passing right next to it. He froze. Not many people had total access to his house. Nancy, Denny… and V.

Heat coursed through his veins and he suddenly felt light headed with the devastating surge of hope the sight kick-started in him. His heart roared, beating faster than it ever had. With trembling limbs, Kerry entered the house properly and here he was, in the dim light, seated on the stairs with his head hung low. He raised it when he heard the door open, and his eyes flashed: happiness first, then doubt, grief and finally, neutrality. A mask.

Kerry took a step more, feet pulling him toward V and the man got up too. His clothes were ratty and dirty, probably covered in sand for he seemed to have come straight from the desert. He was thin, looked tired, but he was alive. Alive past the six months Alt had given him. Kerry stumbled into him, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling him toward himself. V let him, eyes searching his face and maybe finding what he was looking for because a tentative smile painted itself on his lips.

Yes, Kerry wanted to scream at him, yes, I love you, I still do, I was a fool.

Do you still love me?

But Kerry wasn’t really a courageous man, so instead he kissed V. Their mouths clashed and V grunted before he raised his hands to put them over Kerry’s cheeks. For a moment, Kerry thought he was going to be pushed back, but V only gentled the kiss. Or tried to, but Kerry was having none of that: he groaned and pushed his lips more forcefully, biting the merc’s bottom lip, begging for him to open up. And V did with a soft sigh, hands gripping Kerry’s hair as he let his tongue slide against Kerry’s. Their mouths turned devouring as the kiss gained in intensity: all the pain from the last six months coming crashing down inside Kerry and he knew the same ache echoed in the younger man. He pushed up against him again, like he was trying to fuse them. V staggered backward and his ankles caught the stairs, making him fall. He only gentled his slip by catching on another step, and ended up seated once again. But Kerry had followed him the whole time, not wanting to stop kissing him as wave after wave of emotion mounted and crashed inside him. He straddled V, arms looping around his neck and keened into the embrace. V’s hand found his hips and his grip over them was bruising as he surged up to give back every slide of tongue, every bite in kind.

The tide receded.

V nipped at Kerry’s lips one last time before letting a silver of breath between theirs mouths. Both men were panting, eyes flickering over the other’s face, searching for the right words to say, or for answers. Kerry was idly stocking V’s nape, gaze going from his eyes to his spit slick lips.

“Tell me you’re here to stay.” He begged in a voice barely above a whisper.

V’s lips trembled before setting on a smile.

“I’m here to stay.” He replied, just as softly. “If you – “

“Yes,” Kerry cut him, “Yes.”

And although it cleared some of the worry from the merc’s face, there was a lingering hurt here. Fuck they were going to have to talk about it and that perspective terrified him. But he would do it, and do it right. Say it right.

“How long?” Kerry asked, voice even lower like saying it out loud would jinx them.

“As long as you’ll have me.” V replied, this time with something akin to pride in his eyes. So he had found a way.

Forever then, Kerry thought. Until death do us apart, and into the next life.

He kissed him again, to hide the wetness in his eyes.

#cyberpunk 2077 #writing prompts #kerry x male v #kerV #kerry/v #kerry eurodyne #kerry x V #my writing

[cloudsnbones]

Ok so quick note, thanks to @wonderofasunrise whose blog I found these prompts on and thus which proceeded to steal. this is no. 11. :)

Excuse for being lazy: also yes this is only meant to be short so like sorry for not expanding on things at all. Perhaps I shall make up for that next time ;)

This is set in s8 around wintery times.

Please enjoy :3

“I thought I would be okay with just being friends but… All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore.”

Kerry lay quietly, her cheek resting on Susan’s chest, her eyes shut in a warm, pensive bliss – two souls in harmony.

Their illicit affair had begun as a matter of surprise to them both; after a night of heavy drinking and deep confessions they awoke the next morning sharing a bed, and what had started as a one-night stand became a regular thing after replicating the original night twice over.

Not only had their sexual relationship grown in a way that neither could have imagined, but an understanding, a friendship had also developed which had allowed themselves to trust wholeheartedly and without the fear of judgment for the first time in a very long time.

Kerry had indeed gotten accustomed to arriving home and finding Susan outside waiting for her, she had started to prepare dinners big enough for two in anticipation of an inevitable phone call asking to spend the night. Everything was falling into place. Therefore, it could never have lasted.

“I think we should end it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was. The nebulous nature of their relationship was growing all too much for Kerry, because, to tell the truth, she had fallen.

She didn’t think that there had ever been a time when she wasn’t in love with Susan Lewis, but to have been finally exposed in full to that euphoria, to live out her long-term dream, one she’d barely registered before now, was bittersweet…when she knew that Susan would never, could never requite what she felt inside.

Susan was surprised at the statement. She had never really thought about ending it, actually ending it. To be honest, since this whole thing started, she hadn’t really thought about anything at all. She knew that they were never going to be a “they”, Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis: ER Power Couple, but she couldn’t help feel a little, disappointed at the idea of losing her? Although, she wasn’t really going to be lost, just not there in the same way. It just seemed really random, why now? Had she been planning this for a while? It was going well, she had thought, but knowing Kerry perhaps to her this wasn’t right. Anyway, best to end things whilst they’re good right? She clung to that thought in the hope that it might fill the suspicious hole she felt deep down in her chest.

The two promised to stay friends, it’s always nice to have an ally. And Susan was just fine with that, one-hundred-percent completely fine.

“23-year-old male, multiple head lacs, altered, LOC, vitals stable, BP 120/80,” announced the new EMT Danielle as she tried to shake her overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

It was just then as Susan and Kerry approached to take the trauma that the man in question lent over and wretched blood all over Danielle’s jacket causing Kerry and Susan to jump back a little before grabbing the sides of the gurney so that she could sort herself out. The man started to lose consciousness again as they raced to get him inside.

Danielle shed her jacket leaving it on the tarmac of the ambulance bay revealing a white vest and tattoo sleeves before she continued her debrief whilst following the pair to the trauma room, “Received 50 of Lidocaine at the scene, complains of dizziness and neck pain,” she continued.

As they entered the trauma room Susan finally took a look at the woman speaking and what said woman was wearing, “Nice top,” she said her eyes lingering a little bit too long.

“Thanks,” replied Danielle looking down at herself briefly before smiling to show her gratitude.

“LIFT ON 1, 2, 3!” Kerry ordered loudly cutting their little interaction short.

And as Susan lent over to start working on the man she felt Danielle put something small into her pocket whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

She stared as the woman left the trauma room only to look back around to see Kerry watching her icily.

After the man was stabilised, Kerry and Susan left the trauma room ripping their gloves and their aprons off as they did so before tossing them into the trash.

They both started in the same direction, practically colliding, Kerry extending an arm to institute a satisfactory, colleague-appropriate space between them.

“Tough trauma.”

“Yeah, I s’pose…Hey, did I tell you that Susie went to see that film they’ve all been talking about, Shrek(?) the other day, oh my god I have not heard her be so excited about something in months, and the way she talked about the donkey in it you would think that the two were going out, but alas no. Apparently, he is indeed taken by a dragon as is so often the case with actually desirable men,” she ranted enthusiastically putting on a heightened English accent to emphasise the slander.

Kerry listened quietly as she felt Susan’s words dig into her further and further, she should be happier for her, she knew that, but everything was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.

They entered the Doctor’s Lounge and as soon as the door shut behind them and it was clear to Kerry that no one else was in there, she started, “Listen, I don’t wanna make a big deal outta it but I just wanted to let you know that it’s considered a little inappropriate to get distracted by pretty EMTs when working a trauma at least from a management perspective, now as it’s never happened before obviously it’s not a problem but just so you know for any future interactions that they should be left till after you’ve finished working on the patient.”

Susan’s smile failed immediately at the mini reprimand. “Kerry it was nothing I promise.”

“Uhuh – well even if that is the case it’s still inappropriate,” Kerry said pointing her nose in the air.

Kerry’s stiffness on the subject angered Susan who huffed before retorting, “And even if it WAS something I don’t think that’s any of your business, you know Kerry Weaver, not everything is about you I realise, ok, that you’re the only person in YOUR world but that’s not the same for the rest of us,” as she raised her voice, she stepped closer and closer to Kerry refusing to break eye contact for a second.

Kerry was frozen in place, her lip quivering slightly and her eyes conveying only a hint of pain and fear behind their broken shields.

They were practically toe-to-toe, and their proximity almost immediately caused Susan to calm down as if her body was anticipating Kerry’s touch, Kerry’s smell, Kerry’s warmth.

The electricity burning Kerry’s skin as her beloved towered over her, not knowing, never knowing, what those words meant to her. Why although dealing with hurtful comments was part of the job, was always part of the job, they felt different coming from her.

But as cupid’s taunting strings gradually lured them together, the door burst open loudly causing the women to practically jump out of their skin in order to create distance between them.

It was Chuny; “Doctor Weaver there’s a guy wandering around the admit desk I think he’s your patient, Mr. Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Chuny,” Kerry replied a little too shrilly, her eyes still fixed on Susan. She stayed there for a few more seconds before finally awakening in herself the willpower to sort out the wanderer.

As the last sounds of her crutch hitting the floor faded away into the dissonant noise of the ER Chuny joked, “Did you just have it from Weaver, I bet you didn’t miss those in Phoenix!” before closing the door and leaving.

But ‘missing Weaver’ was really the only thing Susan was able to do at that moment, she turned towards the window to wipe away a tear. Then, she shook herself from head to toe, set her face back to neutrality and spun around so she could go back to work.

Kerry stood alone, her arms restless as if they were missing something, or someone, her kitchen echoing with emptiness. As she stared half-heartedly at the risotto she was making she heard a buzz followed by three rapid knocks. Kerry pulled herself out of her reverie, grabbed her crutch and headed over to the front door.

Upon opening, she saw Susan shivering in a short tan trench coat, her arms wrapped around herself, her right foot tapping the ground beneath her. When she heard the click of the latch she lifted her head and the expression Kerry saw sent a shiver through her, Susan’s eyes were wide and deep inside them there seemed to be some sort of lingering discomfort.

“Hey,” she said shyly before pulling the door to and stepping out into the cold winter’s night also, “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m not sure to be honest,” was the esteemed reply.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you want t-”

“Kerry there’s something I have to say and if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will so.”

“Uh…ok, um, go right ahead.”

“I’m so tired, of all this of going to back to the old normal, whatever the hell that was, you know I-” she broke off, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions started to get the better of her, “I thought I would be okay with just being friends but…All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore. And even when you’re mad and being a bitch, I just want to hold you because then I know everything’ll be all right.” And on those final words she broke down, it could have been the cold, it could have been the pressures of moving back to a town where no one really remembered her, but in that moment, it didn’t matter what the exact cause was because her Susan was upset and it yanked at her heartstrings.

The women stood there silently, Susan looking at the floor and Kerry looking at Susan, frozen in light of the revelation, trying to calculate what best to do. When Kerry still didn’t say anything, Susan raised her head once more to look at her and being met only with an unreadable, blank expression, she felt she could take a hint.

Not wanting to stand in the scene of her rejection any longer Susan said, “Goodnight,” in a dejected, barely audible voice before turning around and heading down the steps leading up to the house. And it was this that triggered Kerry’s ability to move once more.

“Wait!” she called out, as she reached her hand out for the banister and tried to rush down the stairs, but her hurriedness and the light frost worked against her and as Susan turned around Kerry practically tumbled into her arms.

And at this intimacy, there was only one thing left for them really, because love doesn’t require logical thinking, sometimes all it needs is an impulse.

Kerry pulled herself up muttering a word of thanks before running her hand through Susan’s hair and slowly, softly bringing her down for a kiss.

And as a thousand fireworks went off in their minds, they simultaneously knew that “they” would last forever.

#kerry weaver #kerry x susan #susan lewis #er #nbc er #ficlet #drabble #kerry weaver x susan lewis #angst #fluff #aghhhh sorry again #better than nothing though right #also sorry if the medical stuff is wrong #that's not why i'm here #i don't think it's sooooo inaccurate??? #also ive scheduled this for like the middle of the night where i am so yeah whatever you say i will be waking up to and will define my day #remember that #i don't want to proof read this again any mistakes that are there now remain there #my writing

[silverhandsass]

Can You Feel The Sun (Pt.4)

Things are finally coming together y'all OwO

— SPOILER ALERT - this is post-game stuff, read at your own risk —

Read on Ao3

— — — — —

Johnny is not here.

He was never here.

So for the entire year that she had been focusing on getting her own shit back in order, Johnny was—

"I thought you didn't need permission, Alt! You said there would be no point in talking to the souls before you took them all away, how could you leave him—"

"I did not leave him." The urgency and strictness of her voice shot a spike of ice into Val's chest. "He remained in Mikoshi too long."

"What does that even mean? Why did he stay there?" Val asked, stepping closer to Alt—if that even helped, she didn't know.

"You should see for yourself," Alt replied, then waved her hands in a wide arc around her.

Suddenly, the pixels and blocks that formulated the cyberspace around them both began to shift and change. The blue tinge came back as she realized a familiar setting had been made. The table and booth at Tom's diner.

"Wait..."

Then, beside it, Johnny's car appeared. The doors were opened and the back of it had sunk low to the ground. There were the sounds of voices talking and laughing; no words to be heard but the voices echoed eerily like a memory. It was when they leaned against the back of his car and talked, one of their many sweet moments shared by flipping off the corpos of the world.

More of these spots began to appear nearby; the couch and bed of her apartment, the rollercoaster cart with only a fraction of the rails showing, the Pistis Sophia, the place where they bonded at the oil fields, Kerry's couch and the Seamurai, and finally...

The piers.

As Valerie approached them, she could see that on one of the docks, a faint silhouette of Johnny appeared. She kicked into a sprint to get to him, only for Alt to call out to her.

"He is not truly there." Val's approach slowed to a brisk walk and Alt continued. "These are the places he wished to see one last time before coming with me. A few minutes, he said. He stayed long enough for days to pass in the real world. Then, he was gone."

"What..." Val turned to face her. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"An outside force of Netrunners accessed Arasaka's systems. Either they were hired, or they were a separate faction. They were peering inside Mikoshi. They found me, and they found Johnny. It was easier to take him—he did not know how to defend himself within cyberspace. They tried to take me, so I left."

"You left?" V spat, "How could you fucking leave him like that?"

"I could not risk them seizing control of me or gaining access to beyond the Blackwall. Mikoshi needed to be shut down. It provided an ample distraction for me to leave. They could not find me this way," she explained.

"You didn't even fight? You could have helped him, you could have saved him," V argued.

"He would have been used as bait, and there was nothing to save. I would not blindly rush into a situation I know nothing about without first considering all its aspects. That, V, is where the human factor comes in." Alt did not need to say it, but V understood her meaning clearly. She was also talking about V's visit to the Blackwall.

"He trusted you. We both did," V spat.

"I was ready to take him. He was not ready to leave. I told him of the risks. He did not listen. Much like you," she reminded.

"So if-if he's not here," Val took a staggered breath. "Where is he?"

"I do not know," Alt replied.

"How could you not know?" Val gestured her arms wildly. "You are one of the most powerful entities in cyberspace, how could you not know?"

"They did not march into Mikoshi announcing their presence. They snuck in, shrouded by ICE. They were careful and prepared. I could not place their location or identity before I left."

This could not be happening. Valerie took a few steps back and she shook her head before running both hands through her hair. Not only was Johnny nowhere to be seen, but he was missing. Was there even anything of him left? Had he been chipped into some other gonk's head? Did that gonk die? Did he die? Was he well and truly gone? Or was he still stored away somewhere in another briefcase, left dormant and alone?

V was just starting to lose herself in those thoughts when Alt's form shifted once more, moving closer and hovering.

"You must leave, now," she demanded.

"Wh—" V looked up, "Alt you have to help me, this is... It's Johnny. It's Johnny."

"I cannot help you. You have been careless in your methods of reaching beyond the Blackwall that you did not think about your way back. You left the pathway open for anything to pass through, making it easy for anyone to reach this place—to reach me. But while I was able to shut it momentarily, shortly after your arrival, it will not hold if I do not shut it down properly. Leaving it open is dangerous and staying here will kill you. You must leave."

As she stepped backward toward the wall, Val looked around at the various locations that had been made around her, as though she was trying to commit what Johnny had done to memory. She looked for his silhouette once again but it was nowhere to be found. "Can't I stay just a bit longer?"

"You are still tethered to your body through the connection of the external rig. You must leave now before the wall is sealed for good. You are asking too much of your human body by staying here longer than you should. If you do not leave now, it will soon cease to be your choice."

V cast one last glance at her surroundings, beginning to pant as she approached the wall. She looked up at the AI once last time and gave her a small dip of her chin. "Goodbye, Alt."

"Goodbye, V."

She reached out her hand and placed it flat upon the beaming red surface of the Blackwall, feeling her surroundings fall apart. She had barely any time to register the change before she felt her existence yanked—tugged hard in such a way that all simulations of air escaped her lungs.

Her vision fell away pixel by pixel until it was all to bright, bright, bright.

Cold. Fuck. It was still too cold. She forgot about the damn ice and the water and—fuck, fuck, fuck!

Launching herself into a seated position, V gasped for air and felt her body shiver and shake. She soon felt Dakota's hands upon her as the cable was disconnected from her port. A second pair of hands joined in as both Panam and Dakota helped V out of the tub. They were both speaking rather loudly, saying things, but she could not hear them clearly just yet. Her mind was still catching up with her, not only trying to piece together what she had heard, but attempting to snap back to reality.

Then, the tears came.

—

"What the hell were you thinking? You didn't even tell me your plan, you didn't even ask me what I thought, you just went right on in there and went ahead, which—" Panam pointed at Dakota, "—we're gonna have a long discussion about, by the way!" She then brought her hands down on her thighs as she bent down a little to meet V's eyes. "What the fuck, Val?"

V had been sitting on the same cot that she'd usually commandeer whenever she got back to camp. She had a thick synth wool blanket wrapped around her to keep her warm and she made a point to avoid eye contact with anyone for the start of the whole conversation.

It wasn't even a conversation, it was a scolding.

"What if you died?" Panam argued, "What if suddenly I got the news that hey, that fucking gonk of yours walked into an ice bath and melted anyway! All under your nose! What then?"

She did have a point.

"I know, Panam, I..." V sighed heavily. "I know. And I'm sorry. It was... It had to be done."

"Why? What the fuck did you need to do that you couldn't talk to me about? You know I'm ready to help you, you just had to ask," she said as she knelt before her, shifting a bit closer.

"You wouldn't have agreed to this."

"Why?" she prodded.

"Because I had to see him."

There it was. The look of realization. Val had mentioned the man that was the very reason they had to charge into Arasaka in the first place. She had insisted before that it would have been just as much her fault as it was Johnny's, but Panam was fine with just blaming him. Particularly for the number of people they lost that day.

"And? Was it worth it?" Panam asked. "Did you find him?"

V watched the frayed ends of the blanket as she fiddled with them, picking apart loose threads. "No, I didn't."

"What?" Dakota blinked, stepping forward. "I thought you said he was beyond the Blackwall. We used your—" she paused, "—those memories."

"Apparently he never left Mikoshi and someone pulled him out," Val replied, her voice slowly beginning to crack a little as she faced that truth. "He's gone."

"But... we can find him, right?" Panam frowned.

"No, we can't," V finally looked up, and Panam's expression fell.

V had been entirely monotone the moment she began speaking after the tub. Both her mind and her body were still in shock by the events and the revelation. An entire year had passed since they parted ways, he could be anywhere by now.

"Fuck that, there's gotta be a way," Panam countered.

"Nothing short of walking right into Arasaka again to figure out what happened a year ago. Something I'll have to do alone, and it would be suicide."

"Okay, if you mention doing anything 'alone' one more time, I'm going to kick your ass," Panam warned.

"I'm never taking you back there, Panam. None of you, not after everything that happened," after all the lives that were taken. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as understanding fell into place.

Before anyone could keep talking, Panam stood up and then promptly wrapped her arms around V. She then pulled away but kept a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out, we'll figure something out that works... If he's out there, then he needs you."

"Didn't think you'd want to go looking for him," V admitted, looking up.

"That's because you need him too."

Well then.

"Get some rest, V. I'll yell at you some more when you can yell back," Panam told her, a faint smile showing that it was merely a joke.

It was one that V certainly appreciated. She nodded and mumbled a thank you to both of them before they left. Slowly lowering herself onto the cot, she tried to clear her mind and get some of that rest she truly needed. Instead of wondering how she could possibly find him and hoping for the chance that he might still be out there somewhere, that he could be saved, Val shut her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

—

A few mumbles and wisps of words escaped past his lips, but beyond that, the man remained still. It was impressive that he continued to fight hard for consciousness when science itself was working against every muscle in his body. Bryce was uncertain how long they could keep this up, but it was necessary in order to keep the man sane. After all, one doesn't normally come back from the dead after around fifty years.

Still, it had been two weeks since their last conversation. He was not going to be happy about that, about being put down for such long periods at a time. After his general volatility, it was hard to predict how much time would have been enough.

They only had one shot at this.

The doors opened behind him and a set of heavy steps approached. Then, a clearing of a throat caught his attention, finally. "Had a ping in the net today regarding that friend we've been looking for. You'll never guess where."

Bryce blinked and finally looked away from Silverhand's body, turning to Tommy. He was holding out a datapad for him, one that he took without delay and began to read. The corners of his lips quirked up as he realized what that Merc had been up to. He shook his head and pressed the top of the datapad to his lips, glancing back down at Johnny.

The man was on the brink of his daze, nearing the time for his next dose. He continued to let out a few mumbles and sighs here and there, as though he was awake but not quite present.

"Go," Bryce ordered, handing the datapad back to Tommy. "Do what you can."

"How much do you want me to say?" he asked.

"As much as you need to, but nothing about him," Bryce reminded. As Tommy nodded and left the room, he turned back toward Johnny and leaned in just in time for his injection. "Your old pal's been causing some trouble again, Silverhand..." he chuckled. He could have sworn Johnny's eyes moved to him when he spoke those words, but it was hard to tell past the fluttering eyelids. Finally, Johnny drifted back into deep sleep and Bryce sighed, pushing away from the bed.

"Get ready to bring him back soon," he ordered the nearest doctor. "We're going to need him ready to talk."

—

Find the Merc.

That friend we've been looking for.

Your old pal.

What were they up to? What were they on about? Johnny had just been able to start hearing things a bit more clearly when he felt the Propofol coursing through his system, when he felt himself sink once more.

Find the Merc.

No. It couldn't be.

#y'all #im feels #angst #fluff #romance #lots of that romance #that gay ass emotional stuff #im too bi for this #johnny silverhand #valerie rose palencia #silverv #val / johnny #Val / johnny silverhand #alt cunningham #dakota smith #panam palmer #bryce mosely #believe it or not #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #my god im dying with all these tags HELP #can you feel the sun #my fics

[tired0artist]

sing to me (part two)

paring: female!V x Johnny Silverhand

summary: a street kid V falls in love with SAMURAI music and idolises Johnny Silverhand. years later she finally understands the saying “never meet your idols”

warnings: angst and fluff, Johnny being a dick as always, arguments, Jackie and V are like siblings, Mama Wells is the best, grief, V plays the guitar, more/different warnings in the future parts

note: I’m describing my V, but you can imagine her however you want tho

•SAMURAI fan V (street kid)•

The rain was pouring outside. Stray raindrops hitting the window in her apartment, as she sat on her bed.

Her green eyes trained on her guitar that was hanging above the couch. It was old and worn from all the playing she’ve done ever since she bought it. The only thing new about it were the strings, as they snapped from time to time.

She stared at her prised possession without any emotion. Just emptiness. It’s been almost a week since, Jackie died and V didn’t even dare to touch her guitar. She didn’t hum to herself or sing along to some song on the radio, as she kept it turned off all this time.

Her holo brought her out of her thoughts, it was Mama Wells calling. V already knew why.

“Hello?” she said into the holo, her throat tight as she spoke.

The woman on the other end smiled sadly “Hello, V. Will you be coming? I’m calling because you said that you’ll be sooner than others”

V looked down, guilt eating her up as she said “I’m sorry. I’m on my way, now”

“V... you don’t have to, do it if you’re uncomfortable. I’m sure—“

“It’s fine... he would want me to. I’ll do it for Jackie...”

Mama Wells smiled once again “He always did praise your music... I’m sure he’ll be listening with everyone”

A lone tear made its way down V’s cheek as she nodded saying “I’m leaving now.. I’ll see you there Mama Wells”

With that she ended the holo and got up, taking and packing up her guitar she left her apartment. Her black clothes contrasting with the gloomy weather.

The drive to El Coyote was quick. A bit too quick, for V’s liking. She spent another good ten minutes inside her car just staring at the wheel.

Then she felt a small hint of comfort? Encouragement.

She smiled to herself. It seemed like the bastard had a heart after all.

“Thanks...” she whispered out loud, even through she knew that she didn’t have to.

V left her car, took her guitar and headed inside the bar.

As she walked through the doors Mama Wells walked up to her, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you for coming” she whispered.

V hugged her back, only whispering “I am so sorry”

The older woman pulled back and touched V’s freckled cheeks, looking into her eyes “Do not apologise, hija mia. It’s not your fault”

V nodded, tearing up a bit but blinked away the tears, trying to seem strong and collected.

Soon the ofrenda started and people started talking about Jackie, placing their chosen souvenirs for him.

And now.

It was V’s turn.

Slowly she stood up and walked in front of every one.

“Like many street kids, I never had a family or a home. I was all alone most of my life” she started, her heart hammering in her chest “I took whatever job that I could. And one of them, led me to Jackie. One minute he was ready to shoot me and another he was inviting me to have a dinner with his mama” she laughed a bit and so did a few people.

V looked at Mama Wells smiling “And Mama Wells took me in as her own kid. Even packed me food to eat later. After that Jackie and I started hanging out together, taking jobs or just fooling around. He was always talking about us becoming the best of the best. The Night City Legends. But even with this dream of his, he never forgot about his friends. His family”

“Jackie Wells wasn’t just your typical big guy from Heywood. No. He was much, much more than that. And I wish that other people could see him like I did. Like I still do” V said while taking out a bloodied and torn orange tie, smiling softly at the ugly thing “Jackie wore this tie, the first time I played here. He was joking around about being my bodyguard. But it turned out later that he wasn’t joking at all.

Couple of unfortunate souls dared to insult me rather loudly. I honestly didn’t give a fuck, but Jackie. Jackie got up from his place at the bar and beat the shit out of them. He then walked over to me and handed me his torn tie saying “chica, as long as your bodyguard’s on duty, no fucker will say a word to ya. Now go on and play something nice for your most devoted fan””

V then turned and placed the tie on the table, next to other things that people brought there. She looked up at his photo saying “Hang in there Jackie. My most devoted fan... my brother”

With that she went to sit down next to Vik, who patted her back in compassion.

They all drank for Jackie in a toast and not long after that, Mama Wells got V on the small stage where she was always playing.

At first V just sat there, her faithful guitar in her hands. When she remembered Jackie, his smile whenever she played for him. Him and Misty slow dancing in her shop as V played for them or just tested out a new song. His laugh whenever she was just fooling around and singing nonsense.

It all felt as if someone brought up all these memories up for her. Dug them out to remind her of happier times.

V smiled and started playing, her fingers skilfully yet gently strummed. The music was calm and smoothing, the memories kept coming and soon V’s cheeks were wet with tears but she started humming out loud. Both the guitar and her humming creating a beautiful melody, that had many stop talking and just listen.

Then she started singing along.

“It's been a long day without you, my friend.

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.

We've come a long way from where we began.

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.

When I see you again”

She took a deep breath, her heart feeling lighter. V continued on singing. The lyrics coming to her out of nowhere, with each word, each chord her heart was becoming lighter.

“When I see you again.

When I see you again...”

She ended, softly.

Mama Wells started clapping and soon the whole bar joined. Many people were teared up, but Vik, Mama Wells, Misty and Pepe were fully sobbing.

V sent them all a shaky smile and got down, heading to the bar.

It was middle of the night as V said her goodbyes and left the bar. A bottle of whiskey from Pepe in her hand. Instead of taking her car, V walked home.

Her hair sticking to her forehead, her black clothes sticking to her body after her walk in the rain.

As she entered her apartment, the first thing she did was to put away her guitar. Then she got undressed and went to take a hot shower.

After that she put on her pyjamas and went to sit down on the floor next to her bed. Bottle of whiskey in her hand as she was holding a small device that she grabbed from her desk.

Taking a sip of the alcohol she activated the device. A hologram appeared in front of her, with a video playing.

“Come on, Jackie! Don’t record me!” V yelled as she was grinning in happiness “It brings bad luck!”

“Bullshit! I’ve never heard that, chica. And one day I’ll get a shit ton of money for recording the very first performance of the big music star Vivienne!” Jackie said coming into the view of the small drone that was recording them, wrapping his arm around V.

She pushed him with a snort, saying “If I’ll ever be a star, I’ll go by V. As always”

“Come on, chica! You’ll need a better stage name! Something rich, like that guy from that old band you like”

“Kerry Eurodyne?”

“Yeah, yeah! Something like that”

V laughed saying “I think that it’s his actual name, Jackie. And V is a good name, lay off of me”

“Sure” Jackie said before grinning “Vivienne”

“Okay that’s it!” she said and jumped on her best friend’s back, pretending to choke him “You’re going down!”

“Never! It would be embarrassing to be defeated by a sweet little girl named Vivienne” Jackie joked, pretending to throw her off of him but really he was supporting her so that she wouldn’t fall.

“Fuck off!” she said with a laugh.

Suddenly Mama Wells came into the frame, hands on her hips “Ninõs, stop playing around. V’s coming up in a minute!”

Jackie laughed and helped V get down as both of them said.

“Sorry”

Mama Wells smiled at them and shook her head, then pointed at the drone “Shut it off, Jackie. It’ll distract her”

Jackie pouted but nodded, his eyes glowed blue and the video ended.

V was sobbing by the time it ended. She could still remember that day, his laugh and the way he hugged her after her first performance at the El Coyote.

She smiled a bit remembering that Jackie still took a video of her, thanks to Pepe. He was bragging about how he would sell it, once she’s famous.

V calmed down a bit after finishing the whole bottle of whiskey and slowly climbed on her bed. She snuggled into the blankets on the bed and laid there for a few minutes.

The sound of rain hitting her window, triggered her as her mind went back to that Delamain. And Jackie’s lifeless body.

She broke down again and sobbed like a child, loudly and painfully.

“Jackie—“ she whimpered, bitting her lip.

I’m sorry, she finished inside her head, unable to speak at the moment.

Not long after that, the exhaustion and alcohol hit her, causing her to she fall asleep. Completely unaware of a body materialising at the end of the bed. Or the metal hand rubbing her arm that was covered by the blanket.

“You poor, emotional gonk...”

The next morning was tough for V. She laid in her bed, head hurting from the relic, hangover and crying. She was holding on to the photo of her and Jackie, that Claire took of them on their first visit at Afterlife.

V smiled at the memory, more tears gathering in her eyes. She hasn’t moved for hours, as she continued to stare at Jackie’s face.

“Kid, you gotta move” said Johnny as he materialised near the bed, his arms crossed.

She ignored him and closed her eyes, hoping that the rockerboy would go away.

“I won’t go away. I literally, can’t” he said, staring at the woman. Her hair was a mess, so was her face as all her mascara was now painting her cheeks and her nose was wet from crying.

“Fuck off” she said and turned so that her back was facing him, the picture still in her arms.

Johnny wanted to pull his hair out in frustration with the girl. He didn’t have time for her angsty teen act. He needed her to get to work.

He walked over and grabbed her arm, shaking her while hissing “Listen here you whiny cunt. Your choom died. Poor you. But guess what. People. Fucking. Die. So get your ass up and get to work or you’ll be joining hi—“

Slap.

Johnny was cut off as his face was forced to the side by V’s hand. The woman moved so fast that he didn’t even see the hit coming. He let go of her and took a step back, watching as tears were running down V’s cheeks. And yet. She was glaring at him, her whole body vibrating with rage.

“Fuck you” she choked out and got up, going to the bathroom.

As the doors shut, V fell on the ground. Sobbing like a little kid.

She doesn’t know how much time passed by, but finally she got up and made her way to the shower.

After showering and taking care of her other needs, she left the bathroom. To her surprise, Johnny was sitting on her bed staring at his hands.

V stared at him for a while, before going to lay down on her couch. She turned on the radio, leaving it at a low volume as rock station was playing.

She stared at her hanging guitar, fingers tapping in the rhythm of the songs playing on the radio.

“I’m sorry”

V looked up in shock to see Johnny standing near the couch.

He let out a sigh and sat down on the coffee table in front of her “Listen kid. It’s okay to grieve. But gotta be honest. It won’t bring him back, it’ll only affect your health. Which is going to get shittier with each day”

The woman looked down at her hands, whispering softly “But it hurts...”

Johnny sighed and reluctantly put his organic hand on her knee “And it’s going to hurt like a bitch for a long time. Probably will never stop. You’ll just get better at handling it”

“So what do I do?” she asked, feeling weak and vulnerable.

“You get your ass up and find how to get the chip out. You gotta live kid. From what I’ve seen, that choom of yours would give you an earful if he saw you slacking”

V smiled a bit “Yeah... he would, yell at me for wasting time”

Johnny smiled a bit too, as he felt a bit of the weight on V’s heart lifting. Then he looked out the window, to see the sun setting. He bit inside of his cheek, already cursing himself as he said.

“But we’ll take care of that tomorrow. Tonight you’ll rest up and eat something, kid. I can feel how hungry you are. Also get some painkillers, your head still hurts. Which is fucking annoying”

V nodded and went to get up, but not before awkwardly patting Johnny’s shoulder.

“Thank you...”

He nodded at her and stayed with her, that evening. They didn’t really talk much but he knew that, she felt a bit better with visible company.

That night, V fell asleep rather quickly without the help of alcohol or pills.

•english isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors.

•you wanna be tagged in the next parts? leave a comment!

•thanks for reading! hope you like it. I will be going through some parts of the main story and beyond. I’m planning it to be a bit longer so if you want something longer than 5/6 parts, this is for you

•tag list: @signwriting @missweatherwax

#cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #female v #night city #v

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 8:

The Revolution

Aw man, how unfortunate what’s happened to Clark. I feel soooooooo bad. I mean he was just humble div 3 agent, doing his job, gaslighting marginalized individuals, participating in a genocide. How cruel of those bad bad mutants to injure him so badly. He was only actively about to kill David. What could he possibly have done to deserve any of this?

In other words, the Clark propaganda is not working on me this time. At all.

Maybe don’t participate in a genocide? Idk :/

I normally hate when people type in the passive aggressive way I have been for the past few paragraphs, but goddamn, Clark deserves it.

He’s not quite as damaged... but he’s kind’ve like old David here, from the over-medicated living with Amy timeline. Again, not quite as damaged as that though.

Clark considers mutants a “threat to democracy.” 🙄 “Moral panic” I guess?

“The second I walk outta this room, i’m going to war.” There’s that word again. Clark could just... not, and they’d probably have more time to figure out how to safely eradicate Farouk. But because he doesn’t and David busies himself with peace treaties, Farouk escapes and continues to be a problem for the next year. Clark has a family. A husband and child who love him to death. And he chooses war over them. This pattern will repeat in other character. Technically this isn’t even the start of it.

Suit change, new cane, same Clark. This really doesn’t change anything, does it? He could go through the rest of the series in the suit he wore before and it wouldn’t make difference. The valiant hero dressing for an expected victory over their long time (relatively) rival, only to be stopped immediately by an unforeseen development. This pattern will repeat... tragically.

Considering Farouk!David woulda just dusted them, it’s probably nice for his friends to see the real him is much less violent. He just stacks em like a Jenga Tower, no need for anything more.

Also, Wilhelm scream from one of the soldiers.

He’s also talking strangely. In an almost too calm voice. Measured. He talks like this a few other times, but I think those times have sadder context. Maybe they reflect on this moment. He talks like how he talked when Farouk was mind-melded with him, but his intentions aren’t evil this time around. I guess this is just his “fully in control” voice.

Clark’s literally shaking where he stands.

The zoom in to Clark’s blind eye is reminiscent to previous zoom in’s to Walter’s foggy eye. I guess Clark has taken on the role of Walter, artificially. Makes sense since he’s now the main D3 representative/antagonist like Walter was before.

“I don’t care if you save me, or the world, if you don’t save yourself.” David will eventually choose himself over the world, and Syd. And Syd will hunt him for it. Goes to show how much things change in s2.

“You know the most dangerous thing about schizophrenia?”

“You’re not-“

“The most dangerous thing is believing... you don’t have it! That’s the trick, the mind killer, your disease convinces you you don’t have it. So, for example, one day in the hospital you meet a girl and she has some friends, and they tell you you’re not sick. You have superpowers. And more than anything you wanna believe it because that means you’re not crazy! That means you can fall in love and live happily ever after. But you know if you believe it, if you surrender to the hope and you’re wrong, then... you’re never coming back.”

“I’m here. I’m real. The power is real. You gotta accept it, otherwise we can’t move on.”

“I was in Clockworks for six years. Drugged, doing nothing. Contributing nothing. And now, finally I can be useful! I can help! Don’t you get it? I am so sick of myself. This only works if it’s not about me.”

“David...”

So... that’s a lot. David believes being crazy means he’s not allowed to fall in love, or be happy. He said the same sentiment to Amy before Clockworks. This whole season and this episode especially push David into his full “I’m not insane, I won’t believe you if you tell me otherwise” mindset. At the very least that’s the stakes we’re playing with. If David fully gives into the hope, even for a moment, he believes there’s no possibility for recovery. No possibility for love or happiness. Why even try after that? It’s life or death for him. “If the choice is between life and death, I choose life.”

I know this is all already known and talked about and circulated 100’s of times over in various fan circles, but it’s probably the most important line for David’s character (the speech, not the Farouk quote). It’s very ableist, yes, but at least in the moment it’s coming from someone who’s just being too hard on themselves, and not ya know, being actively validated by the show.

2 episodes ago David talked about being worried about an “invincible” feeling. The dangers of mania.

We also know from that episode that David is more at peace in a calm, responsibilityless setting (with Syd) than he is out in the real world. David’s gonna take on a ton of responsibility, some of it’s gonna draw him away from Syd. At multiple moments throughout the show David has known his own mental health better than any of the others, and even warned them about potentially dangerous slopes he could fall down without their help. Despite this, David is pushed further down a path he tells them is dangerous and is still blamed for what happens in the end. I feel like Oliver’s line from ep4 is relevant here again, “We are the root of all our problems. Our anger, our confusion, our fear of things we don’t understand.” Everyone wants David to be something other than... David. A hero, a god, there projected image of a perfect partner. Not just... David.

Man, the more I realize about David’s self-awareness in s1 the madder I am at Syd for saying all that ableist stuff to him in s2 as if he wasn’t already down on himself 24/7. “It never occurred to you that you’re the problem not the solution?” It’s occurred to him like 5 times by now and has been shut down by you at least 3 of those times. I don’t understand.

What’s strange is... to my recollection David doesn’t believe he’s invincible at the end of s2. Or that he’s not sick.

“Saint David.”

“I’m not saying that. I make mistakes.”

“Say you’re gonna let them kill me if I don’t let them turn me into something different. Something easy. Something clean.” He sounds sinister here, but it is an indication that he knows he’s not perfect. In fact it sounds like he’s trying to appeal to Chap 1 Syd’s mentality. Your disorder is what “makes you you.”

So what’s the message here?

“We can’t just kill people. Or is that who we are now?”

“That’s who they are.”

The justification for killing here is that they’ll kill them if they don’t. Div 3 will kill Summerland if Summerland doesn’t kill Div 3, is what I meant. David has a similar justification for killing Shadow King in s2. Well, he has a LOT of justifications for it, but that’s one of them. Syd doesn’t hear it then either. She does attempt to kill David herself though. I don’t quite understand where the line is.

“He was gonna kill you, twice.”

“With that kind of thinking wars would never end.”

So... he shoulda just talked to The Shadow King when they were both powerless? Talking is what ultimately ends their fight in s3... hmm...

Cary is more humane to their POW than Melanie and Ptonomy are.

The show doesn’t necessarily say it was Cary’s fault for leaving Kerry. Either way though, Kerry needs some space.

Melanie calls David a “world breaker” and outright says now that he knows that’s what he is, div 3 doesn’t stand a chance. I suppose... knowing that... is why they so readily team with Farouk. They stood no chance otherwise. Even then, at least hide him away till after the intervention.

David’s floating meditation pose is seen more in s2 and A LOT more in s3.

He puts the onus of ending the war on Div 3. As if to say, “If things get violent again, it’ll be on you, not us.”

People keep talking about “gods” “waking up” and “realizing they don’t have to listen to us/them anymore.”

When Clark says it David’s first response is, “Isn’t that the history of the world?” But it’s a red herring (or something else) cause he follows it up with, “People of different nations, different languages, learning to live together?”

Clark is afraid if mutants gain power they won’t show humans mercy or equality. This is a common belief among fascist. The “they’ll treat us like we treat them” argument. Only it’s rarely self-aware, and it isn’t here either. Clark genuinely believes he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s all somehow in “self defense.”

Ah, so Farouk and Syd are connected psychically. He entered her mind whenever she entered David’s. He psychically affects her at multiple points throughout the series.

Syd here is convinced to help The Shadow King by The Shadow King. And while he’s wearing a mask at that. Yeah yeah, this pattern will repeat. But still, Syd gives in relatively quickly here. Perhaps she just... doesn’t fully trust Summerlands capabilities? They are legitimately trying to get rid of Farouk, but Farouk has proven time and time again how dangerous he is. Or maybe the “unmake soup” thing is just that convincing to Syd.

Clark’s still standoffish, but he’s slowly becoming more cooperative.

Syd rolled a 4 on that hero speech. She needed at least a 7.

I legitimately NEVER noticed before that Syd secretly turns on the lab camera feed for Clark to watch. They weren’t trying to show him that.

David gets a chance to look back at his whole life and recontextualize everything.

David straight up halts Farouk’s theme. If Clockworks Podcast is right and he can hear that whenever Farouk shows up, this would be evidence of it. Alternatively, he was halting Farouk, and the music halting was for the audience. A fun subversion of expectations.

David describes him and Farouk as, “The Sun and Moon.”

Division 3 sees it. The monster they saw on infrared. Clearly a separate entity from David Haller. Clearly of a different disposition than David Haller as David Haller has acted very differently and non-hostile compared to when they saw him roaming those HQ halls. The monster and David are not the same. They see who their real enemy is now.

It seems evident there was no chance of David beating Farouk on his own here. I wonder why? Was it true? Is Farouk just too ingrained in his mind? Cary said he was like a, “Computer virus. Learning his systems, bypassing his defenses.” Maybe Syd remembered that, and that’s why she believed Farouk. Cause Cary had already said something similar before.

Clark could've escaped, but he stayed, then tried to help fight Farouk.

I feel really sad Oliver got possessed. It never occurred to me before he could even tell Melanie he remembered her. Melanie’ll just go on thinking he never remembered her for a year.

And thus it’s established. There are “good mutants” and there are “bad mutants.”

No one checks on Ptonomy :(

The Lenny that’s talking to Oliver here is still just Farouk.

Did the orb go back as far as it could? Or was this time specifically chosen? If it was chosen, it was probably because it’s very soon after Farouk had been expelled from David’s head, and before the big race for his body starts.

#legion fx

[rotzaprachim]

some things from the “carmen is niall’s daughter” ramble fic i didn’t really know how to finish or clean up

the carmen is niall’s daughter theory fic

When the king was very young, a woman who was not a called a witch but had the green world curling through her blood read open his palm. She didn’t like what she saw, so she read the dregs of his tea and then the shards of a glass he dropped on the kitchen floor. She didn’t like that either so she bundled them both in their coats and took him on a long walk. Night was falling and so was the curfew, but the woman who was not a witch feared what she saw in the shadowy twistings of the future more. Finally she found what they were looking for. Her sister had a dog who’d been put out for the night. The woman who was not a witch roused the dog from his sleep and slathered his nose with a concoction so he would not cry and wake the neighbors, which was the dog’s entire purpose. Then she took the dog and a kitchen knife and the young king out to the back garden, and read the future. This was the way to get the strongest reading.                                               

Blood could look blue in the night, if the moon was full enough. 

Afterwards, she whipped off her knives on a spare bit of kitchen towell. 

“You will have many children. You will kill your son, but his death will come from your daughter’s hand.” 

The king laughed, because the witch was not really a witch, just an old lady who made extra money making amulets and embroidering tea cozies, and what could she know of the future? Who was an oracle to the man he was planning on becoming? He wouldn’t have any kids at all, really, the money-sucking bastards they were, although if he was a king then the idea of a son, lone, singular, too endowed with this strange dark power of his, was an appealing one. Every king needed an heir. 

--- 

What the moderators didn’t understand was that  was what it was to be Carmen Farooq-Lane: to have an unpassable line between the person you had been and the person you were now. To never again be that person who was neat and precise and methodical, but who was good at friendships and smiling, and not only aquaintances and shaking hands. Who sometimes dyed her hair blue. Who had a lot of hair, and wore it down, curling around her face.  Who wore jean jackets, sometimes even with pins, and tights in unusual colours. Who listened to MIKA and the Cranberries and Janis Joplin and Joan Baez and let herself cry over girls who broke her heart in the dorm bathroom. Who bought candy-pink shower gell and Hollister body mists. Who broke girls’ hearts. Who kissed girls she didn’t know. Who went home with girls she didn’t know. Who came back across the city at five am with a matcha latte and a knish to bang out an economics essay by nine. Who did that and didn’t think the world was ending. 

She’d thought about shaving all her hair off, but that would be a prototypical sign of teenage rebellion, stereotypical and nigh par for the curse of being hormonal and rebellious. She thought about getting a tattoo, but what to put on it? She didn’t want to be seen. She wanted to disappear. She wanted the world to swallow her until she was nothing at all. She wanted to disappear.

---

The king gave each of his children land. 

To the oldest, the son of his youth, he gave land that had never been his. It had never been anyone’s at all, situated on the Kerry ley line as it was. But he had no writing of it, no record apart from his trips there, almost no one alive who knew of it, and they would not hurt his son. To his oldest he gave the knowledge of it- if things go south for us, men of our kind, run. And then the men with guns came knocking, run his oldest son did. Caomhan Browne was there, and he understood what had happened before Nathan said a word. He was always going to fuck himself over, living like that, Caomhan Browne said. But no one could find you here, all the magic in this place keeping out those without the dreamstuff, no one but one of your own blood. 

To the second, the son of his homeland, a blank DC townhouse. The king had used it mainly to store boxes of his stuff when he came into the city in business, and also to meet with women. Otherwise it was empty. After the king was found dead, his second son ran away from home forever and found something he could live within here, in the blankness, because it matched what he thought was his own. To the second son, the house in the city, the business in the city, the eye for women, the firm handshake. The second son, but the last of his children to whom he portioned his kingdom. 

To the third, the son of his dream, he gave his kingdom. 

To the fourth, the son that was not his son, he gave the empty plot of land in Armagh he’d bought mainly because he could. To show himself he was no longer the empty-pocketed Belfast scrounger but a man who had made himself a new name and pulled gold from a new lan, a man who could buy things and own things and let money run cold through his fingers. His family had not lived in Armagh for generations. For him it had been a story of a place more than a place itself. But still a local dairy farmer was happy to let him buy an empty plot awkwardly positioned between fields for a pittance, and the king liked the idea of owning the land more than the land itself. He never visited it. 

To his only daughter, the king gave the truth of himself. 

The king had not meant to. He had merely planned to give her the Chicago brownstown, more picturesque than her DC cousin, and hers as long she could pay her part of the mortgage. It had been spruced up by his wife with yellow curtains and vintage shop bric-a-brac and stylish modernist furniture she compulsively ordered out of a Restoration Hardware catalogue, but it was a strange place with both the kids gone, so they were planning on moving out to the suburbs. It was an easier place to get to and from, and keep things buried in the yard, and with the earnings of his work his wife could retire early and more fully devote herself to morning cooking shows and the homeowner’s association and the other trifles she had arranged into a life. In their absence the house would be his daughter’s, and he considered it a fair section of her birthright. And she had been happy to claim it as her own, until the day she came home and found grey-pink chunks of her mother’s brain on the entryway carpet. 

In the aftermath, she had gone through her father’s things. There were many many photos of the cousins he had told her about, Scott and Sean and some other kid, blonde. There were photos of her and Nathan too, and even her Mom, when she was young and Dad was young, and Dad still had awful hair, like an 80’s rocker. There were folded over stacks of money of five currencies, wrapped with rubber bands. 

There was the deed to a house. There was an address. The address was in Belfast. Carmen was not an expert on the Northern Irish housing market, but she had a mind for these kinds of things, financial dealings and stealings, where money could be hidden and how, and she found the address belonged to a narrow brick house in the north of Belfast. It had once been a council flat, but since had been auctioned off for cash, and her father had bought it, and kept the evidence of the dealings in a lockbox in his desk. And the keys, which were very cold to her touch. These Carmen slipped into her pocket. Her father had had many secrets, some still living even after he’d had his brains bashed out with a pair of sewing scissors. When he was alive it had been her purpose to hear the secrets, but now she was left only with the spaces where those secrets had beem which were very loud in their silence.

After the moderators killed Nathan, they burned the place down. Ramsay tossed a bunch of cans of petrol, peyitroooolll, he said in what was supposed to be an Irish accent and sounded more like a Bucca di Beppo ad, peyitrolll, and the other moderators laughed and jostled each other, like football jocks, like her brothers body wasn’t lying there cold, and she helped arrange things so the blaze would be controlled. Then she watched from the road with a gun in her hand, in case there was other damage that would need to be cleaned up. They were a long way from anywhere but if there was anything her time with the moderators had taught her, it was that people could poke their noses where they didn’t belong from anywhere on earth. Someone might even show up with a hose and some water, or call the fire department, in the interest of being neighborly. She took her boots off and plastic bagged them, and then stood on the sharp-pebbled dirt of the boreen in her sock feet with a loaded gun in her hands. The flames licked the sky.  No one drove by. 

Then they all made themselves scarce. Carmen was good at this. She was a financial planner on a week-long vacation, and had already purchased some Guinness Factor keychains to hand out to coworkers to shore up this fiction, but now it was time to make themselves scarce before the guards came and tried to work out if any of it was something stranger than a gas leak.

#my writing #carmen farooq-lane #niall lynch #just looking through drafts trying to remember how to put words into sentences again

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: The Jaundice Arc

Hey there everybody! Sorry it’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me, but I’ve got a job now and less of writing drive than I had when I was high school/college. Doesn’t mean it’s completely gone though and now I’m going to tackle the point that people started to really have problems with RWBY: the Jaundice Arc.

I know, big guns, but frankly I wanted to get this one. Partially because I want to do Jaune’s post eventually and I feel like I need to do this one before I can do that one, and partially because like I said before: this point where people really started to have problems with the show. And more specifically, this when people REALLY start to dislike Jaune.

Now, I’ve touched on my feelings on him before, but let me get this all out and over with. I don’t hate Jaune and I don’t think he’s an inherently bad character. Almost everyone on this show has been written badly and I think the absolutely simmering undercurrents that some parts of the RWDE community have for him is perhaps a little over the top. Personally, I think the core idea of his character is pretty good and he’s at his best in my opinion when he’s playing support to the other characters.

That being said, I completely understand why people dislike him. He has been constantly given focus away from the main team, which started in Volume 1 which was already short as it was to devote about a quarter of your episodes to a non main character in your first season. He also doesn’t suffer nearly as much for the consequences of his actions while the female characters get constant crap for theirs. I’m not even going to go into the Miles Luna Author Self Insert thing.

After having read fan fiction and seen some rewrite scenarios on Youtube, I personally think that Jaune can be written well so long as he’s not being written by Miles and Kerry. With that, I’m ready to take my crack at it.

Setup

As I said, Jaune took massive screen time away from the main characters since early on in the series. There’s an easy way to fix this. As I stated in an earlier post, I was going to spend the first volume/season focusing on Team RWBY aside from a small potential team up with Team JNPR. Jaune, and his other teammates, would mainly be relegated to comedy and background support for the main four girls after the Initiation. I’d throw in a few hints of what’s to come with them, but that’s it. Thus, I’d actually put the Jaundice Arc in the second volume/season which would be significantly larger than the first.

Because we’d be doing it then, we’d have bit more buildup for this story. Cardin’s bullying and enmity towards Jaune would be set up in the prior volume/season’s class interactions. As I noted in my School Rewrite, Jaune’s strategic abilities would also be showcased early on as well as Cardin’s tendency to go head on and brutal without realizing potential problems with that approach. Jaune’s relationship with Pyrrha and the rest of his team would also be better set up.

Now that the board is set, let’s get to it.

Student Days

The first thing I would absolutely change is making it clear that Jaune is actually trying. That was the thing that really did irk me with how Miles and Kerry wrote this arc, despite having gone through the effort of cheating his way into a huntsman academy, he then proceeds to goof off and put absolutely no effort into it. So, before and during this arc, it’ll be clearly shown he’s been studying like crazy and putting in extra time into the fighting simulations that are available for students. He’s not failing in terms of his regular studies, but he’s not top of the class either. In terms of physical combat, he’s the worst in his year, but he’s exceptional in Strategy and Tactics. This I think would be a good and reasonable place for Jaune starting out given his character and background prior to the series.

Thing is, this pisses Cardin off. He sees how much of a weakling Jaune is as a fighter and can see that he is so out of place at Beacon. Despite this, he’s paired with arguably the strongest person in their class who hangs on his every word and has (unintentionally) been showing him up as a leader during Strategy and Tactics. He knows something is off with Jaune, leading him to spy on him to figure out what’s up.

I wouldn’t change that much with him and Pyrrha’s interaction on the roof, I already briefed the reason why Pyrrha trusts him as a leader in her rewrite post. Maybe throw in a hint that his father really didn’t want Jaune to become a huntsman, but I’ll get into that when I get into his backstory proper.

I also wouldn’t change that much revolving in his talk with Cardin straight after save for one thing. After Jaune is left alone with his thoughts on this situation his lies have gotten him into, the scene shifts to being shown on a screen, making it clear that this is being watched from a camera on the roof. A finger taps on the screen a few times and we hear a familiar pensive hum.

The fall out with his team and his one on one with Ruby isn’t really changed, aside from Ren and Nora being more vocally concerned about Jaune’s actions and Pyrrha’s frosty change in behavior which the latter shoots down the concerns sharply.

Forever Falls/Aftermath

I don’t think I’ll change that much regarding the trip itself. I was thinking of mentioning the reason the teams are there is because this is their group task for the month (gathering sap for Professor Peach, who would actually be here taking originally Glynda’s place) and that’s why it’s only these three teams here. Same overall events occur: CRDL tries to get Pyrrha, Jaune stands up to Cardin, Grimm take down with Pyrrha’s unknown aid.

Jaune does apologize to Pyrrha like in the original and ask to train him. Though I was thinking that he’d get something a bit more painful than just a hard shove. I was thinking she’d take his hand and tackle him to the ground hard while pointing out his weaknesses.

This will cut to Ozpin’s office, with Cardin finishing up with telling his version of events who is obviously very agitated from the day’s events. In this Rewrite, there is no reason why he wouldn’t just tell on Jaune. Ozpin merely takes it all in with pensive expression before asking about the light that seemed to protect Jaune. Cardin answers this with confusion and some surprise, Ozpin nodding with a “Good to know” before updating a file on his tablet. Cardin is even more confused and asks what the Headmaster is going to do about Jaune. His answer: Nothing.

Cardin is shocked and furious at the Headmaster, going into him a bit before threatening to go to the board with this. Ozpin responds that even if he did so, he wouldn’t have a case. Cardin is completely confused as Ozpin explains: When students apply for Beacon, their applications go through extensive background checks before there are selections for the second round (ie the Entrance Exam). Such fake transcripts would have been discovered around that time.....had they actually gone through the admissions board. As it was, Jaune’s was accepted through an alternative.

But honestly, that’s not to say the admissions board is completely infallible, Ozpin would muse. Some are very inclined to promote those connected to them, others are interested in advancing their career elsewhere,.....and some might be inclined to take money from very influential people, such as a well meaning Uncle whose Council seat is up for reelection soon. Cardin gets noticeably stiff at that last one. Then Ozpin bring up some videos to the screen, all of them showing Cardin and his team bullying others, particularly Faunus students. The headmaster then would muse aloud that he wonder how Councilman Winchester, or moreso his Faunus opponent, would react to such un-Huntsman like behavior getting out into the news. Cardin immediately gets what the headmaster wants and goes completely quiet. Ozpin would merely say that he is a big believer in second chances and that while he understands that shenanigans in such as a school as this is to expected, Cardin would do best to remember that even if he thinks no one is watching he should act like there is. This cuts the meeting to a close with Cardin leaving quietly and Oz going back to his tablet, clicking back to a file with Jaune’s symbol on in it amongst others files with symbols on them. Only Jaune’s is a different color than the others and a scroll up would show us only one other file with that same color: Ruby’s.

Okay, it feels like I spent a lot of this post musing on the Cardin and Ozpin scene (really I could have done a oneshot on it), but this really was an important scene to establish some very important things to this Rewrite.

1. Ozpin is not an idiot. Ozpin is shown to be very aware of what’s going on at his school. While he may not get directly involved with things, he is shown to be watching his students. And while he is shown to be merciful in giving Cardin a second chance after the crap he pulled, he is also shown to not be a pushover. With such vigilance showcased, it will the Fall of Beacon even more devastating in how Ozpin missed his enemies working under his nose.

2. Ozpin’s true nature and goals are thrown into question. This rewrite is going to be more morally gray, especially in regards to Ozpin. Not only has he blackmailed a student to keep it quiet about another student, he knowingly let someone into his school he knew wasn’t qualified. In this rewrite up until this point he would have been shown as a distant but well intentioned headmaster. Now, he’s just gotten plenty shady. It would also bring into question Ruby’s enrollment into Beacon given that she got in in the same way (also strengthening those two’s parallels, but I digress).

3. Makes us question why Ozpin let Jaune in and sets up that Jaune is important in some way. As noted in my musings in a previous post, it makes no sense for Jaune to have gotten into Beacon unless Ozpin saw his transcripts and accepted him on that alone. Since we are shown in this scene Ozpin is aware of the transcripts, it makes us question what did he accept Jaune for. This also sets up that he will be important to the story moving forward, and not just as the revenge driven not ex boyfriend of the girl who tragically died.

Now, why did Ozpin accept him? Well, that will be covered in his own character post. I think this is plenty long enough and I think I will do something different before I get back to these Rewrite post. I hope like this one more than the last.

See you all! And stay save in this Covid time!

#rwby rewrite #Jaune Arc #pyrrha nikos #cardin winchester #rwde #team jnpr #professor ozpin

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

Next Chapter | Project Masterlist

Word Count || 3.5k Author’s Note || These first two excerpts I’ll be posting aren’t exactly chapters, but they’re not quite a prologue either--primarily because of their length. But it’s an introduction to the story and the world and the characters nonetheless. After these first two parts the excerpts will be much shorter; I can’t be giving you all the information about the project ;)

Anyway, enjoy!

Kerri Stevens gripped the edges of the lectern and braced herself for a fight.

“We are on record for review of disciplinary case D08-493214. Please present yourself for the panel,” said a man in a charcoal gray suit, his voice echoing through the spacious, mostly-empty chamber.

From their perch at the elevated, curved table, the four members of Kerri’s disciplinary panel had her well and truly surrounded. The looks on their faces suggested they, too, were here for a battle. Calling upon every ounce of confidence she had, Kerri straightened and faced down the panel of suits.

While it certainly was not her favorite place to be, if she was here, it meant her prison sentence was about to come to an end at last.

The high-ceilinged council chamber was all but a new environment to Kerri. At first glance, it appeared warm with expensive wood paneling tastefully integrated with the modern interior and well-lit atmosphere. She knew, though, that looks did not match the grim nature of several meetings held here. Her job had called her to Austin, Texas frequently as a representative of her region for new inductions, retirements, and the occasional, dreaded, dishonorable discharge. Today, the chamber was empty, save for Kerri, the panel, and a lone guard standing near the only entrance into the room. Whatever was said today would be for her ears, and her ears only.

Drawing a deep breath, she willed her racing heart to slow, and answered, reciting the words she’d been rehearsing over and over again to herself since that morning. “Kerri Lynn Stevens. Call number: 493087. Codename: Foxtrot. May it please the panel, I move to present a defense.”

“If we were interested in hearing a defense, Agent Foxtrot,” another voice, this one from the center of the panel, chimed in, “we would have called for a hearing less than thirty-six hours after the initial infraction.” Kerri’s handler, Director Lawrence Ward, closed one of the buttons on his immaculately tailored midnight blue suit. “Not wait three months.”

Kerri gestured towards the first speaker of the meeting. “As Director of the Southern Reach, it was Director Shaw’s decision to authorize such a severe consequence without providing me with an opportunity—”

“The motion was decided outside of your presence, Agent,” Director Shaw dismissed with a wave of his hand. “We will not be hearing a defense.”

Kerri said, “I followed every directive from the panel without requesting an audience for three months when probationary periods, historically, have been half that or less. Does that not merit an explanation? Or a chance to present my side of the story?”

Director Ward lifted a hand before Shaw could respond. “Why do you push so hard for this motion, Agent?”

Kerri leaned into the podium, the quick flex it required of her muscles stimulating the blood flow necessary to cool the burn that seeped into her muscles from inactivity. “It’s never been denied in the past.”

Bracing his forearms on the long table, Director Ward leaned forward and regarded Kerri through narrowed eyes. “So you would assume that we should continue to follow protocol down to the letter, even when you, yourself, seem to think you are above such things?”

Kerri swiftly backpedaled, “I never meant to assume—”

Director Shaw bade her to be quiet. “The panel determined that your continuing disregard for expected conduct in the field was grounds for increased severity of disciplinary action. We will cover the specifics at the designated time. Concerning your defense: your obedience to directives as a result of your ongoing behavior warrants you no such privilege.”

Kerri’s mouth opened and closed several times over, searching desperately for a response but finding none. None that would be to her benefit, at least. The cavernous room remained unvoiced for another moment, the fluttering of turning papers from the panel filling the void before they turned back to her. She sought out Director Ward for solace, but found none in the hard lines of his face.

She said directly to her handler, “Director—”

“This is a review of your disciplinary case, and nothing more,” said the woman to the right of Director Shaw. Her nameplate identified her as Adeline Kim, Director of Active Agent Relations. “We are not here to listen to your agenda.”

Kerri bristled. “If helping others sounds like an agenda to you—”

“You broke protocol to fulfill needs that were not pertinent to your direct orders, Agent, did you not?”

Kerri, desperate to get a word in edgewise, huffed, “I’d say they had some relevance.”

“Now is not the time to play Devil’s Advocate, Agent. Did you, or did you not, break protocol?”

Everyone already knew the answer to that question, which made it redundant and, most infuriatingly, unproductive. Time and time again, the panel seemed to think that making Kerri confront and acknowledge her disobedience in the field would prevent her from putting herself in this position again. And yet they always seemed to find themselves here, each side waiting for the other to relent only for nothing to change. They were better than this. She was better than this.

She had taken accountability for her actions. Just not the way they might have wanted her to.

Kerri clamped down on her tongue before she could say any of that out loud. Doing so would only put herself at greater risk for more punishment. She strangled her features into neutrality, straightening her back as she faced down the panel of directors.

It was futile to hope that she could hide her true intentions here. Everyone here knew her secrets without her having to open her mouth.

Which meant lying would be pointless.

“I did.” Kerri squared her shoulders and stood with as much authority as she could muster before the imposing panel.

Kerri had been in this position enough times to know that controlling the room was a hopeless endeavor. So she clung desperately to what she knew she could control.

Director Ward pressed, “How, precisely, did you breach protocol?”

Kerri masked her groan with a sigh. “I deviated from the mission plan.” She stuck to the facts. “It was not a misinformed decision. I did it of my own free will.”

As she said it, Kerri looked towards the remaining member of the panel. Director Rachelle Frost had supervised her training during her earliest days in Legion. If there was anyone who could vouch for her, it would be Frost. The look she gave Kerri was unreadable before she made a note on her legal pad. Kerri felt her confidence wane at the gesture.

Ward’s voice called her back to the present. “And this, deviation, was to interfere with bystanders, correct?”

“I specialize in defense,” Kerri replied. “Shouldn’t my priority be the wellbeing of the people we’ve sworn to protect?”

“We aren’t looking for your mission statement, Agent. Answer the question.”

That was it.

Kerri snapped, “If by interfere you mean assist with the evacuation of a collapsing building, then yes, the deviation involved dealing with bystanders.”

“Do you understand the risks associated with your actions, Agent?” Director Kim sounded as exasperated as Kerri felt.

Averting eye contact, Kerri drummed her fingers against the underside of the lectern. “Yes, Director,” she said through a wired jaw.

“Elaborate for us, please.”

It was as if they wanted to humiliate her.

“Because my actions have again put Legion at risk of exposure.” She resented how robotic her voice sounded as she delivered the answer.

“Again.”

Director Ward’s voice was a low force. Kerri’s stomach tightened, the sensation drowning out the otherwise distracting thought of whether she’d have been able to hear him if she’d elected to not wear her hearing aids that morning. What was worse was the way he said it as if he was embarrassed on her behalf. Embarrassment which then transferred to Kerri. Clenching everything from her jaw to her knees, Kerri began keeping count of her deep, even breaths.

Director Kim said, “This is your fifth offense of this caliber in the past five years you’ve served in this capacity. Legion cannot continue under this pattern, nor can we afford to keep erasing any documentation of you every time you wander in front of a camera.”

“This manner of conduct can be forgiven once, maybe twice,” added Director Shaw. “The only reason you are still standing here is because Alpha has determined that you are more of an asset than a liability when you do follow directives. She is concerned that the scales may be tipping out of your favor. This kind of behavior is unacceptable from someone in your position.”

“All due respect,” Kerri said, “but are those who share my rank not expected to make challenging decisions when faced with a crisis?”

“Those who share you rank, Agent Foxtrot,” Ward countered, “are expected to make those challenging decisions in order to see their missions accomplished. Not go out of their way to get caught on camera.”

“So you would  stand by and watch innocent people die over something they can’t control?”

“Agent!”

The moment she said it, Kerri knew she’d crossed a line. But the blatant disregard for human life was something she refused to stand for.

Director Kim said, “People die in the name of the greater good frequently, Agent—”

“Not if they don’t know what they’re dying for!”

“And you must understand that there is nothing we can do to change that!”

Kerri went silent, absolutely stunned at the ignorance of the panel. Was there anything she could say to remind them that what she had done was good? Perhaps against instructions, perhaps dangerous. But those whom she’d saved from an untimely death or lifelong physical ailments might have told a different story.

Though three months had passed, she still remembered clearly how it’d felt to be inside that building—wood crackling and popping all around her, her eyes streaming from the onslaught of smoke, sparks and tongues of flame licking against her hands when she reached for a trapped child. Heat filling her lungs until she thought she might burn from the inside out. But most importantly, the frightened screams and cries from others. Frantic coughing and hacking  from those without proper protection. The terror etched into their faces… and then relief. Relief that, because of her, not all was lost.

Yes, she understood that she could not keep everyone she came into contact with from dying. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. It was her duty, the duty her employer, to try.

That was the Legion she’d signed up for. The tales of daring heroism, the best of the best fighting for peace, woven for her by her father on the balmy Texas nights. Not… this political mess.

Ward’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Do you understand, Agent Foxtrot?”

Despite her efforts, she could not wrest back the memory that took her back to fire and rot and decay and the crushing guild that she could not save them all.

No. She did not understand why she faced punishment after punishment for doing the right thing.

Letting out a long breath, Kerri forced herself to nod. “I understand, Director. I will improve my conduct where it is necessary.”

“Make sure those improvements align with your code of conduct, not your personal morals,” Ward sniped.

In a perfect world, those two might have overlapped. But they hadn’t hired Kerri for her morals, apparently, just her ability to shoot straight and win in a fight. She stared straight ahead and strangled the urge to scowl at her handler.

“Commitments to improve are well and good,” said Director Shaw, “however, this panel is not in a position to turn you loose and trust you to not cause any more problems.”

“What can I do about this?”

“Ward.”

Director Ward pushed a slim, manila colored folder to the edge of the table. The motion drew her attention to where he sat. Her gaze flickered back and forth between the file and her handler’s face, which was still heavily shrouded with an emotion she could not entirely place.

She felt her heartbeat thrum over her body. Another assignment? So soon after being cleared?

His hand remained flat over the cover of the folder. “You swore an oath to support and defend our corporation. To bear allegiance to us and no others. Do you still swear it?”

Anxiety—equally powerful and equally terrible—filled Kerri’s chest. “I do.” She forced her voice to remain steady.

“You swore to serve as a living example of this organization’s philosophies and beliefs and to uphold these values at all times. You took this obligation freely and of your own accord. Do you still swear it?”

Freely. Of her own accord. “I do.”

“Do you swear to give yourself wholly to this assignment and swear to complete the request of its commissioner?”

“I do.”

Ward removed his hand from the file and said, “You may approach the table, Agent Foxtrot.”

Slowly, Kerri stepped around the podium and approached the panel with slow, stiff steps. What normally might have filled her with a sense of honor and duty was now tainted with doubt and uncertainty. She felt acutely aware of every pair of eyes on her, burning hotter and hotter with each step that took her closer to the table. Ward gave a small nod as she took the file. She quickened her pace as she walked back to the podium and settled the file against it, eager to be as far away as possible from the ones who held her fate in their hands.

Flipping open the folder, Kerri was immediately faced with the image of a smiling woman. Her skin was pale, smooth, which brought out the green of her eyes and the mane of bright red curls framing her attractive face.

She turned the page over, and found in the following pages little information outside of basic information and demographics about the stranger. The panel waited, scrutinizing every action as Kerri skimmed the folder.

“What’s the assignment?” asked Kerri after finding nothing indicating why, precisely, she was looking at this woman.

“This,” said Director Ward, “Is your newest target.”

Kerri’s stomach flipped. She knew precisely what that meant.

Almost four years had passed since her last commission for an assassination in her five year career. Overall, she’s only ever completed two. One as a part of her initiation trials to earn her Name, and a second one year later. Both had left a bad enough taste in Kerri’s mouth that she’d requested to only be assigned to them if it was a last resort. Shockingly, Legion had obliged her. It seemed it was time to break that streak.

But she imagined they’d start her out with something small, quiet. Literally anything but an assassination.

She had to tread carefully, moving forward. Everyone was on edge. “All due respect,” she said slowly, “but perhaps this is a job better suited for someone not just cleared to re-enter the field.”

“We don’t have the time to call in another Named Agent to an area already occupied by one.” A beat passed during which Ward rubbed his chin. “I expected more enthusiasm from you about being put on a job.”

“I am honored by the panel’s show of trust in giving me an assignment with such a high degree of urgency.” Kerri looked down at the photograph inside the cover of the folder. Her target’s smile was so broad, so unlike the headshots from her previous assassinations which contained scowls and frowns. She looked, shockingly, friendly. “But what has Charlotte Moore done to earn a hit from us?”

Indeed, there was nothing in the file indicating that Charlotte had done anything so abhorrent that it warranted Legion’s attention. Her criminal record included little more than a few cases of petty theft and arson. Since when did they concern themselves with such relatively minuscule matters?

“Everything you need to complete your mission is in that file,” said Director Ward. “Can you show us that you can do your job?”

Although rare, it was not unheard of for agents to turn down assassinations. Kerri was a living, breathing example of that. Her jobs, which tended to focus on protecting life rather than ending it made her more likely than the average operative to do so. It was an interesting thing to be said of someone who worked for a company willing to kill others in the name of world peace.

And she might have said no, were it not for her audience. There simply was not enough information in the file for Kerri to accept a job with such heavy ramifications in good conscience. She was already on such thin ice as it was, she wasn’t willing to take the risk of saying no when tensions already ran so high.

Kerri’s eyes snapped up to Ward’s as she bit back, “Of course I can.”

As if sensing her discomfort, Director Shaw said, “Understand that all we are asking, Agent Foxtrot, is that you complete the assignment as it has been given, and there will not be an issue.”

Kerri’s fingers clenched around the lectern so hard her knuckles hurt. “An issue with what?”

“Given your acts of impotence in the field over the past half decade, Alpha has decided that it is in Legion’s best interest to move up your re-evaluation concerning your standing as a Named Agent.”

Terror wrapped its icy claws around Kerri’s chest and clenched, driving the air from her lungs. Every five years, Named Agents were put through a series of evaluations and assessments as a means of checking their skills and overall functioning. The results were used to make a recommendation concerning whether that agent was in good enough standing to continue serving in such a demanding, high profile capacity. Really, it was just a fancy way of saying “are they fit enough and sane enough”. Kerri’s evaluation, which had been scheduled for the end of this year, had hardly crossed her mind, until now.

At her silence, Shaw added, “Consider this a test run.” His tone was not warm. “Complete your mission with no infractions, and we will consider moving forward with considering you for a renewal of your credentials. If you fail, you will be immediately discharged.”

The world stopped spinning beneath Kerri’s feet. Gripping the lectern for support, she looked at each member of the panel. Nothing in their faces, their posture, indicated that they were being facetious. She actively struggled to maintain straight, untangled breathing—her mouth and through suddenly bone-dry.

After all she had done. All she had given to these people, this organization, this was what it came to?

A new voice, this one female, spoke up, calling Kerri’s spirit back into her body, “Perhaps this is a consequence we should reconsider, Director Shaw.”

“You have something you would like to add, Director Frost?”

Director Rachelle Frost straightened, pursing her plump lips into a line. She glared at Director Shaw with eyes so dark they seemed black. “I had the privilege of overseeing Agent Foxtrot’s training in my facility. She was one of my youngest and fastest graduates. She has done more than enough to earn her title.”

“It’s no question whether she earned her title,” said Kim. “That is separate from being worthy of keeping it.”

“Losing her would be a detriment Legion. I would recommend that the panel considers a customary demotion.”

Shaw said, “The order came directly from Alpha; she did not ask for the panel’s input on the matter. Agent Foxtrot has become too much of a liability to consider keeping her around, even in a smaller capacity. Our job as a panel is simply to pass the motion.”

Kerri pushed her hands into the podium, exerting as much pent up energy as she could without physically leaning into it. Doing so would only call more attention to her. Her lungs suddenly felt too small for her chest, and her breath came out in short, patchy puffs. Charlotte Moore’s face stared back up at her, her green eyes seeming to pierce into her as if she stood there in the flesh. Kerri swallowed when she felt her breakfast crawl back up her throat.

“All in favor, say aye.”

A chorus of ayes filled the empty space, punctuated by a single nay. As the echo faded from the chamber, Kerri felt she was truly in danger of emptying her stomach onto the floor.

“The motion passes,” said Director Shaw, flat. “Do you understand your task, Agent Foxtrot?”

With trembling hands, Kerri flipped the folder shut. Though it covered Moore’s face, she still felt her eyes burning into her through the thick cardstock. She hoped the podium covered her movements well enough to conceal that small detail. Her voice felt oddly detached from her body when she said, “I understand.”

“Best work on getting the color back into your face, Agent,” said Ward without a shred of sympathy. “If you’re serious about keeping your job, you’re going to have to watch her die.”

Despite her best efforts, she could not muster the strength to look away from her handler’s face. She locked her knees, pleading with her body to stop shaking.

“We want a confirmed kill in seventy-two hours. Get it done.”

Taglists

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ATLAS Fam | @radiomacbeth​​​ @ezrathings​​​ @svpphicwrites​​​ @shadescrawls​​​ @aetherwrites​​​ @ryns-ramblings​​​ @isherwoodj​​​ @spillme​​​ @avi-burton-writing​​​ @aliensmoon​​​ @writerlywonders​​​ @donghyeuck​​​ @discreet-writer​​​ @selenthediscountvamp​​​ @sunwornpages​​​ @chloeswords​​​ @skylermegary​​​ @camusbf​​​ @ravens-and-rivers​​​ @kitblogsthings​​​ @magpieandfae​​​ @guulabjamuns​​​ @the-marshmallow-vamp​​

#atlastracking #writeblr #writing community #my writing #original stuff #excerpt #legion #gonna tag this #nanowrimo #because this is my nano project and i'll be picking up where i've left off thus far #nanowrimo 2020 #i was gonna post this later this afternoon but i'm impatient and require immediate validation

[comfy-whumpee]

Rozen 7: Recovery

CN: the second part of this is set in a hospital. One more tag for @sola-whumpings-primary-blog, thank you for being my tag list for this arc.

He’s a little bundle of thin limbs in the corner of the sofa, slim hands bunching the blanket around his chest. His eyes fix tightly onto his saviour, barely blinking, as though the brief closure of his eyes would make this disappear. Among the deep red wool around him, his skin is pale, his burns highlighted, and his hair a sunset complement to the colours.

Alistair is so glad that he waited to find someone this pretty.

“Again, sweetness.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

The words flow. Ellis’s voice is a tap, turned on and off at Alistair’s will, and what comes out is also under his control. Ellis’s own thoughts are not part of the equation, today.

“Once more.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

“Good boy. What did that awful detective say to you?”

Brown eyes go from distant. “I don’t...remember,” Ellis says softly.

He does. He will. There’s only so much that terror can do to push away unwanted thoughts. But he hasn’t slept since he was taken, under Alistair’s command, and he barely ate, and spent so much time listening to the voice in his head, on the last of his three days away, that most of the work is already done.

What memories do remain – you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have to do what he says, you deserve to be free – will fade in time.

“When those nasty words trouble you again, just think about your rules,” Alistair says. When Ellis nods, he smiles, and finally sits down beside him on the sofa. The speed at which Ellis curls against him is gratifying, and Alistair wraps an arm around him, letting him hide his face. “Now, do you have any more questions?”

Ellis swallows, and then nods, cheek grazing along Alistair’s collarbone through his shirt.

He’s so sweet. Alistair runs fingers into his hair. “Go ahead, precious thing.”

He hesitates, but he often does that. He prepares his words, so that there is no stutter. Alistair can’t stand stuttering. “Master, were they – a good person?”

A difficult question. Alistair smiles, still stroking through Ellis’s hair, feeling how the attention keeps him relaxed, even as he navigates the bewildering experience of being rescued from a place he wants to be. “They thought they were doing a good thing,” he acknowledges, “because they didn’t know what you are. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Other people won’t understand. They may even say I am bad, for helping you.”

Ellis shrinks against his captor, shaking his head a little.

“Shh, it’s alright. I know. We both know it’s not true, that I am only helping you as best I can.”

Cheek skims upwards to press against Alistair’s neck, Ellis nodding again, and Alistair smiles.

“But as I promised, I won’t tell them. I won’t tell anyone what you are. As long as you are safe, here with me.”

The faint vibration of a whimper crosses from Ellis’s chest to Alistair’s, and he smiles. Ellis makes no sound even in moments like these, when Alistair lays out the story of his self-hatred so plainly.

“We’re just lucky no one was hurt while they had you locked away from me,” he sighs. He wishes he’d had the chance to go out, but it was critical to get Ellis back before his family arrived. “Someone could have been really hurt.”

Another silent whimper, and Ellis nods again, clinging tighter to the only security he has left.

Alistair smiles. There’s always a silver lining.

-

The important thing is that the clients don’t know their ribs are broken. Video calls are good for that. A nice neutral background, enough pillows that they don’t hurt, and they’ll never know Rozen is in hospital right now.

“As we discussed, I held him in a secondary location as a precaution against retaliation,” they explain carefully, keeping their breaths deep and even. “That precaution proved justified. We had three incidents of Engels coming to reclaim him. The last one, I’m sorry to say, was successful. He brought armed men with him. Ellis was not harmed in the process.”

On one side of the screen is Nic, who looks very concerned, clearly picking up on what they’ve left unsaid. Ellis’s parents are on the other side, in their living room together, fixated on the news of their son.

“I want to reassure you that, aside from the burns we are aware of already, Ellis is not injured. From my understanding, he is kept comfortable. However, I can also confirm now without a doubt that Nic’s understanding of his situation is correct.”

Rozen isn’t blind to the rift between Ellis’s two support groups. It’s...a headache. They hope to lay it to rest.

“Engels treats him like a pet. A human pet. His violence is psychological, and Ellis displays clear Stockholm syndrome. I have some other suspicions, but I will discuss those with you later in person. I found no evidence of Nic’s involvement in the abduction.”

Nic’s face folds in relief. Ellis’s parents seem not to notice. “What do we do now?” Siobhan asks.

In the corner of their eye, they see a pale blue figure enter the doorway. The nurse is coming back up the ward. Rozen has to make this quick.

“I will be looking into the armed men he brought with him. I believe his mob connections are stronger than they initially appeared. Once I can establish his resources, I can find a way to stay out of his reach. The next time I rescue him, we will make it stick.”

“Thank you,” Nic and Joe say simultaneously.

“Excuse me?” the nurse calls. “Is that a phone?”

Rozen drags up their mouth into a smile. “I��ll speak with you soon.”

They hang up, drop their phone into their lap, and lift up the e-reader they have instead, wincing as the movement shifts their ribs. The nurse comes closer, squints suspiciously, and then sighs and moves along.

Rozen settles down with the local crime data for this area, and begins highlighting sections that reference the mob. Dates, locations, and names. Bennett, Vera, Kerry, Crossland. They know how to do this. They will do this.

They’re getting Ellis back. Come hell or high water.

#whump #failed rescue #aftermath #broken bones #defiance #ellis: rozen #alistair #ellis #rozen #nic #joe #siobhan #hospital #pet whump #pet whumpee #creepy comfort #mind whump #no ellis still hasn't slept #my fic

[scmsdivinecultists]

If My Parents Were Gods... (Part 2)

Yeah we’re gonna keep this shit going.

Written by Admin Karebear

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kerry’s squeals echoed across Krioff’s room as the toddler, for the millionth time, got into something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Damn it, kid, get back here.” Krioff scowled, making a move to grab the toddler.

Thinking it was a game, Kerry squealed again and ran awkwardly away from him. Unable to take anymore, Krioff groaned and snapped his fingers. At his snap, Kerry slowly lifted from the ground and moved through the air until she landed in the god’s arms. She was splattered with ink from the feather she stole off his desk.

“Look at the mess you made.” Krioff said, carefully taking the feather from her fingers.

He set the feather down and snapped again, this time cleaning her instantly and replacing her clothes.

“Dadda!” Kerry exclaimed, tapping the god’s arm. “Play!”

“I don’t have time to play with you, kid. I gotta work.” Krioff replied, though the toddler understood none of it.

“Play!”

Krioff sighed and adjusted her so she was on his hip. “That’s it. You’re going to Karno.”

Swinging his door open, Krioff made haste to the Department of Wishes. It didn’t take him long to find Karno; he was in the hallway discussing something with a lower ranking god who worked in the palace.

Karno, upon noticing his parenting partner, halted the conversation. “Krioff? What is it?”

“You gotta take her.” The silver haired god demanded. “I can’t get anything done.”

“Now’s not the best time for me to have her...” Karno admitted, averting his eyes. “Leo and I have a meeting with Zyglavis and Scorpio, and with Christmas coming up our work has doubled. Can you ask your parents to take her for a while?”

“Are you outta your mind?” Krioff asked, silver eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving her unsupervised with my father.”

“Melunia is doing better now, isn’t she? I’m sure she’d love to have a visit with her granddaughter.”

On one hand, Karno was right; it was highly unlikely that Aiess would attempt anything in his sickly wife’s presence. However, Krioff knew his father better then Karno-better then anyone in Wishes and Punishments did.

“I’ll bring her for a visit another day.” Krioff said, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to argue this further. “But I’m not leaving her there on her own.”

Karno sighed and, seeing no other way to get around this, agreed. “Alright. Give her to me.”

Kerry reached her little arms out for Karno as she transferred arms. “Dadda!”

Karno chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Hi, sweet pea.”

Now knowing that the toddler was with someone trustworthy, Krioff left to continue his work. It was almost time for the meeting, so Karno turned and walked further down the hall with Kerry balanced in his right arm.

“Were you causing trouble for your other dad?” Karno asked, his tone light and playful as he addressed his daughter.

“Play!” Kerry exclaimed loudly, her high-pitched voice echoing off the palace walls.

Karno flinched at her volume and lifted his left hand to tuck a lock of short, berry purple hair behind her ear. “Inside voice, Kerry.”

The toddler placed her index finger against her lips. “Shhh.”

The god chuckled. “That’s right. Shhh.”

It wasn’t long before Karno made it to the parlor where the meeting would take place. The other three gods were already inside. Scorpio looked angry, Zyglavis’ had the expression of an unamused man, and Leon was lounging on the couch with a smug face. It was obvious that they had been bickering.

“I apologize for the delay.” Karno said as he entered the room.

Leon looked at his vice minister, his smug expression turning into a scowl when he noticed the child. “No.”

Scorpio clicked his tongue. “You brought that brat to a meeting?!”

Kerry looked at Scorpio and placed a finger to her lips. “Shhh!”

“Excuse me?!”

Leon smirked. “Oh-ho. Perhaps the brat should stick around after all.”

“She’s just trying to tell you to use your inside voice, Scorpio.” Karno said, trying to defuse the situation. He readjusted his hold on the toddler. “She was with Krioff, but he needed me to take her for a bit.”

“I understand that you are her other parent, but this is hardly professional.” Zyglavis spoke up. “Can’t you leave her in the hands of another Wishes god?”

“Wishes has enough work to do as it is.” Leon shut that idea down. “Seems like Punishments has too much time on their hands. If your problem child can run around pulling pranks, surely he can entertain a kid.”

“Isn’t babysitting what grandparents are for?” Scorpio asked, completely ignoring Leon’s comment.

Karno sighed. “Krioff doesn’t trust his father with her.”

“I understand that the relationship between Krioff and his father is a difficult one, however, for the sake of the child it would be wise not to let their personal matters affect her.” Zyglavis said.

Knowing he was right, Karno sighed again. “Alright. I’ll go drop her off.”

“Do be quick. We have a meeting to get underway.”

~~~

“I apologize for such short notice.” Karno said, avoiding the goddess’ eyes in guilt.

Melunia smiled and waved her hand. “There’s no need for an apology, Karno. I’m always happy to have my granddaughter over. It’s a shame that Krioff is so busy; it would have been nice to see him, if only for a few minutes.”

Karno didn’t have the heart to tell Melunia the real reason Krioff wasn’t here was because of his father. Krioff wasn’t aware that Karno was doing this, so the god of cancer could only hope he could be able to pick the toddler up before his co-parent finished with work.

Kerry reached out for Melunia and Karno handed her over. “I should make my way back to the Department now. If she becomes too much to handle, please send word and I’ll come back to get her.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve got the experience. We’ll be just fine.” Melunia said, turning her eyes to the toddler. “Say goodbye, Kerry.”

Kerry waved her little hand. “Bye-bye!”

When Karno was out of sight, Melunia closed the door to the mansion she shared with her husband. Bouncing and cooing the toddler as she walked, Melunia carried Kerry all the way to the common room, where her husband of many years was re-reading old scripture.

“Aiess, dear, our granddaughter has come for a visit.” Melunia said, her voice light and cheerful.

Aiess looked up, silver eyes settling on the tiny being. “Krioff was here?”

The woman shook her head. “No, it was Karno. Our son hasn’t been able to get away from work.”

The man hummed and turned back to the book. “I understand that Krioff is taking part in raising her, but she isn’t truly our granddaughter, dear. She shares no blood relation.”

“Oh come, Aiess.” Melunia said, tickling the little girl’s belly to make her laugh. “By blood or not, Krioff accepts her as his own.”

Aiess could hardly agree. Although he and his son weren’t on the best of terms, he had enough ears in the palace to know that it was the King of the Heavens that bestowed the child upon his son, and without his permission for that matter. This child was simply a task set forth from the King and nothing more. He couldn’t bring myself to voice those thoughts out loud, not when his wife, who had been so sickly until recently, was finally back to her healthy state.

In fact, her health started to return when Krioff brought news of the child. Now, it seemed as if Melunia lived for the little girl. Realizing this, the corner of Aiess’ curled up into a grin.

~~~

Finally finished with work, Krioff walked the halls of the Department of Wishes in search of Karno. He felt a little bad for pushing Kerry onto him with no warning, but Zyglavis would have his head if work wasn’t finished on time. The minister of Puishments has been in an even stricter mood since the first day of the month.

Hearing voices, Krioff entered the parlor. Inside were Leon, Karno, Zyglavis and Scorpio, who were still going back and forth over the subject of their meeting. Not wanting to interrupt, Krioff scanned the room for Kerry. When he couldn’t spot her, he spoke up.

“Where’s the kid?” He asked, his voice halting the conversation.

Karno’s face paled. “Krioff, you’re finished already?”

Thanks to Leon and Zyglavis’ bickering, the meeting had run on much longer then expected.

Scorpio crossed his arms and mumbled to himself. “This should be good.”

“Yeah, Dui helped me get through it faster.” Krioff replied. “I can take her back. Where’s she at?”

Karno quickly stood from his seat. “I’ll go get her.”

Before he could walk away, Leon grabbed his Vice Minister’s arm and yanked him back onto the couch. “She’s with your parents.”

Dead silence.

“What?!” Krioff shouted, eyes narrowing as the room grew hotter.

“Krioff, calm yourself!” Zyglavis warned in a stern voice.

Krioff wasn’t listening. “Why is she there? I told you not to leave her with him unattended!”

“You’re mother’s there, Krioff. She won’t let anything bad happen to Kerry.” Karno said, averting his eyes. “I tried to keep her here, I really did.”

“Work is work, not playtime.” Scorpio stepped in. “You should know how hard it is to get things done while keeping an eye on a kid.”

The god of aries knew the Vice Minister of Punishments was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Forcing himself to calm down enough to avoid setting the room on fire, he snapped his fingers and transported instantly to his parents house.

Without bothering to knock, Krioff pushed the large door open and let himself in. His father stood in the hall, almost like he was waiting for him.

“Where’s the kid?” Krioff asked, his voice cold.

“With Melunia.” Aiess replied. “She’s fine.”

“She’s fine with Mom. With you...”

Aiess smirked. “I’m insulted you think I would stoop so low as to even look at an infant the wrong way.” His smile dropped and his eyes became cold enough to match his son’s. “Your mother’s enjoying time with Kerry right now. Must you take her away over our pointless feud?”

“I’ll bring her back for a visit soon, when I can be here to supervise.” Krioff replied.

Aiess chuckled. “I can see the girl’s grown on you. Honestly, Krioff, do you really think you and that Wishes god can give her a stable home?” Getting no answer, he continued. “Bouncing from one department to the next, constantly surrounded by noisy gods and the bustle of the palace... don’t you think she would be better off here?”

“What are you getting at?” Krioff asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Let your mother and I raise her. Having a mother and father under one roof is far more stable for a child then any life you and Karno could give her. You don’t even talk like she’s your child.”

“The king told Karno and I to raise her. Giving her to you isn’t an option.”

Aiess chuckled, placing a hand on his hip. “That’s right. She is an assignment for you.”

A high-pitched voice echoed through the hall. “Dadda!”

Krioff looked down as Kerry suddenly tackled his leg in a hug. She was covered in dirt, but other then that she was in one piece. Krioff reached down and picked Kerry up, who hugged him around the neck when she was at his level.

“What the heck happened to you, baby girl?” Krioff asked, patting the girl’s back as she hugged him.

Melunia appeared just then. “She was playing in the flower beds outside.” The woman smiled brightly. “I promise you that nothing poked her. Are you taking her home now?”

“Yeah. I’m done with work for the day.”

“Come back for a visit soon. It’s been a while since we’ve last gotten to see either of you. Please, bring Karno too.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Krioff turned his eyes to his father. “The King may have assigned Kerry to me, but I’ll be a better father to my daughter then you ever were to your son.”

Aiess chuckled. “Prove me wrong, then.”

Re-adjusting his hold on the toddler, Krioff turned and left his parents house.

“Dadda! Play!” Kerry exclaimed.

The god smiled. “Sure, kid. We’ll play when we get home.”

#scm #star crossed myth #admin karebear #scm krioff #scm karno

[kob131]

Geez, this person really went all out with this BS rant against the show/staff. www(.)reddit( lcom/r/RWBY/comments/kiqatg/why_rwby_will_always_be_an_okay_show/

... You know I have been trying to step away from directly addressing RWBY bullshit. But...fuck it here.

If you ever talked to me about how I felt about RWBY, I would say that RWBY pre-Volume 8 has been a touchy subject for me. I felt very validated by two videos, "Why RWBY is Disappointing" and "The White Fang Problem".

Yes yes, and people with parental issues feel validated by their abusive spouse. That means nothing, especially given that one of those videos you mentioned is riddled with bullshit.

"Why RWBY is Disappointing" validated my criticism of RWBYs writing. The fact that Miles and Kerry can't and refuse to take any kind of criticism that doesn't hurt their feelings is complete [insert bad word here]. All criticism is going to hurt your feelings. Yes, you should probably ignore the long winded rants that make themselves out to be self important- why is there a mirror here? But there is truth to all criticism.

And there’s a kernel of truth in the best lies- they’re still LIES.

Not to mention the video you mentioned here (which I am assuming is Hbomberguy’s) pulls the SAME SHIT it calls out. Like say...decrying critics pesonally attacking the writers...while proclaiming Jaune and Neptune as self inserts even though Miles AND Kerry is on the record saying that at least Jaune isn’t written by his voice actor.

I'm currently learning about Branding and how important it is to know your audience. Take self.care breaks, talk with someone you trust. Someone who isn't Miles or Kerry! If your reading this. An outside perspective can help. The reason I say that is because if you two constantly talk to each other you're going to end up in an echo chamber. TALK TO FIONA! She's literally your target audience!

Because hey, a man who contradicts himself numerous times and made personal attacks on the creators that only the most malicious and self righteous do is SOOOO trustworthy right? 

Remember that tweet Hbomb brought up in his video as an example of criticism the creators should listen to? The one that demanded Miles get back to work and tried to use the catchphrase of his dead friend to manipulate him?

What a fucking target audience.

I know they mentioned ‘Fiona’ (likely the character’s voice actress) but there’s a supposed fan, one that pretty much sums up the critics, and a perfect example why it gets tossed out.

Moving on, the other video validated something I wish it didn't. "The White Fang Problem" brought to light something I knew was there but either ignored or I wasn't thinking. The White Fang has always made me a little uncomfortable. As a minority, it didn't translate well in my head. The minority are the bad guys. The Civil rights group were the bad guys. I brushed it off for a long time but after that video I couldn't.

Ah huh. So uh, the existence of Blake, Ghira, Kali, Sun, Illa, Velvet, Neon ect. is just incovienable to you huh? And don’t give me that ‘But civil rights group!’- The first episode had them break up a peaceful protest and it’s repeatedly hammered home that the current White Fang doesn’t give a SHIT about equal rights. And no, that concept is not racist- Judging from a story I read, that happened to the New Black Panthers in REAL LIFE.

It became a moral issue. Watching RWBY became a moral issue. RWBY is still pushing right wing talking points.-

Being right of you is not right wing, Especially given how you just acted.

I dont believe Miles and Kerry are racist. I do believe that Miles and Kerry both hold skewed beliefs in what right and wrong is.

Projection.

The way Miles and Kerry treat self defense and protest shows that they know nothing about being Black. They didn't do their research. They didn't talk to minorities about how they were being portrayed. They simply believed that they were right and we were wrong.

Ah huh, ah huh, ah huh-

Monty wrote the White Fang this way. You know, the ASIAN man of FOUR NATIONALITIES. So uh, congrats on saying at the absolute most- Nothing.

Now these two videos are old news. They've been posted on this very same subreddit. But you can't go around and say how much of a progressive and open minded individual you are when the fact that RWBY is a racist show and treats minorities very badly. So no one talks about them.

Or that, as I showed: these videos are bullshit.

Also its kinda homophobic too, not because of Bumblby but because despite Tera and Saphorn being a happy married couple they never kiss on screen. Have you seen happy married couples? Have you seen gay happy married couples? They literally do nothing but kiss. Its cute and adorable and deserves to be spread as far and wide. Despite the show having two straight couple kisses, granted one was in Volume but still, they couldn't get the married couple to kiss? Just saying.

... And not all gay couples are the same, even if I’m sure you’re thinking of TEENAGERS.

You know, judging people based on a preconcieved notion (AKA stereotyping) is pretty fucking bigoted itself...

Watch people be in the comments typing away that this isn't a romance show and how I shouldn't expect romance in an action adventure show despite the long list of evidence to the contrary.

Ah yes, that long list of ONE kiss by a TORPEDOED SHIP.

Such convincing rhetoric.

So you can see I was not coming into Volume 8 with my rose colored glasses. I'm sure many of you hate me because of all my comments, but I don't care. I was ready to leave RWBY. I didn't care. RWBY had taken up so much of my life but I don't care. I was not going to support a show that didn't improve.

Ah huh-

You just came in with jade-colored glass and accepted anything that validated you instead of questioning yourself. You talk about branding but that’s ALL you’ve branded yourself as.

So I watched. And something happened. Something strange. RWBY was moving in a direction I didn't expect it to. Oscar got what he deserved. The Heros were oblivious to the danger that is Salem. Things were headed in the direction that would change the characters forever. It'll be just like Beacon but better. And then they had to ruin it.

Oh we are about to get some real bullshit.

Oscar somehow convinces Hazel to betray Salem. What could have been an avenue to a multi season story arc for Oscar that included the stories villains became a shitty uninspired redemption arc. Kill me.

No he didn’t and this has been something hinted at since Volume 4.

There's still hope for the season but at this point I lost all hope. 

This is the scene that killed Volume 8 for me. Oscar should not be the one who defeats Salem. In fact he should be an avenue to learn more about the villains. He served his purpose with the heroes, now he has a new arc with the villains. Oscar doesn't turn evil, but he's like a conscious. Salem doesn't want to kill him because he can be useful in finding the last remaining relics and maidens.

Assumptions.

Oscar has a heart to heart with all the villains including Salem. Oscar learns to be his own man and accepts he's now one with Ozma but he doesn't have to be another Ozma. He doesn't have to make the same decisions.

Its a great Arc for Oscar. It also makes sense for his character. Ozma feels Salem is pure evil but Oscar can learn for himself.

Headcanon.

But they won't do that. Instead they're going to take the easy way out. Like always.

Bias getting in the way.

Miles and Kerry love wrapping up each season in a little bow. This is why RWBY is so okay.

They say as every RWBY Volumes ends in a cliffhanger.

This is Beacon but if Miles and Kerry thought that RWBY should still be in Beacon. This is Beacon but without major character death. This is Beacon but the main villain loses because the heroes can't lose. Cinder isn't threatening. None of the villains are. Salem is in a Grimm! She should know everything! Why is there no creativity? Why is she not an over powered mess in A GRIMM!? Her own domain?! Why are the writers writing her not as a powerful goddess reaffirming her as a threat but as a human being. Yes I know what that sounds like but hear me out.

‘None of the villains are threatening!’

‘WHY IS THE MAIN VILLAIN NOT BEING TREATED AS THREATENING LIKE I THINK SHE IS!’

‘Why is there no creativity?’

‘DO THE MOST UNCREATIVE THING POSSIBLE!’

How about I keep mocking you?

If Salem can be out smarted by a 10 year old boy, why did it take Ozma so long to defeat her? Oscar should fail. RWBY should fail. They should go through character arcs that help them better understand Salem. Because that's how you defeat Salem.

Pushing your own thoughts onto the show. Also assumptions AGAIN.

I always believed that Ozma and Salem are very similar to Ruby and Weiss. Yes I know how it sounds but it makes sense.-

Too bad your AU fanfic doesn’t matter.

But they won't. Miles and Kerry will use Oscar to defeat Salem. Why? Who knows at this point. I dont know why Miles and Kerry keep pushing Oscar into the spotlight. Its exactly how they treated Jaune Pre-Volume 7. Jaune had to be the focus so often we hated him. And they're doing it again with Oscar

Ah huh. You know, the whole NOTHING Jaune did in Volume 6 was SOOO spotlight stealing, along with his REMOVAL FROM THE CAST FOR SEVERAL EPISODES.

Wanna bet this is another case of ‘penis on screen, me hate’?

They refuse learn and they refuse to improve. If Volume 8 doesn't improve im leaving RWBY. It doesn't matter to any of you. I'm saying it more for myself. So I don't continue with a show that constantly disappoints me. But more so, I don't support a show that views people like me as lesser. If the writing improves it proves that they can grow and get better but if it doesn't it means they will continue to treat Faunus as misguided and horrible characters. And I refuse to support a show that uses my likeness to get brownie points from people who are unaffected by such messages.

A. No, that’s who refused to do self reflection and improve.

B. Should have done that in the first place.

C. No, once again- You blind yourself from the shit that disproves you.

D. You heard him- Treat the Fanaus like shit and make the humans in the right. You know, the opposite what the show is doing now since it’s SOOO horrible.

E. You are not the center of the universe.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HIGH-RISK

We would at most have said that one could be a bit smarter to dominate Internet search than you had to do was sit and look attentive. You get to watch behind the scenes what an enormous amount of work that are purer, in the long term, which do you think most will choose? To anyone who has read any amount of history, there seem to have looked far for ideas.1 Being able to take risks is hugely valuable. But evidence suggests most things with titles like this are linkbait. They hear stories about stampedes to invest in you, that makes other investors want to, and I remember well the strange, cozy feeling that comes over one during meetings. But it would be to shirk it, but regardless it's certainly constraining. If you want to put their name on.

What was novel about yuppies was that they wanted market price for the work they do. In practice they spend a lot of arguments with anti-yellowists seem to be created deliberately. It became possible to make lots of new things, and we needed to buy time to fix it. Often users have second thoughts and delete such comments. Mapmakers deliberately put slight mistakes in their maps so they can tell when someone copies them.2 Note too that determination and talent are not the biggest threat. Performance is always the ultimate test, but there are problems it doesn't work so well for: the kind where it helps to have everything in one head.

Of our current concept of an organization, at least for programmers. It's tantalizing to think we believe things that will later seem ridiculous, I want to examine its internal structure. It may work, but it didn't seem like a real company. I don't see why one couldn't, by a similar process, learn to recognize the approach of an ending, and when one appears, grab it.3 So my theory about what's going on is that the only thing to interest someone arriving at HN for the first time should be the m. The way people act is just as hosed as Munich. The biggest component in most investors' opinion of you is the opinion of other investors. If you understand them, you can create wealth very rapidly. Well, that is all too obvious. And since good people like good colleagues, that means you've probably done something good.

They're good at solving problems, but bad at choosing them. Nothing will explain what your site is about. Few adults aspired to look dangerous in 1950. I see starting to get standardized is acquisitions. At the moment, even the smartest students leave school thinking they have to introduce something new: bosses. The real problem is that humans weren't meant to work in groups of several hundred.4 One thing all startups have in common is that they're telling the truth. People. Some parts of a program may be easiest to read if you spread things out, like an antique store.5 The problem is so widespread that people pretending to be eminent do it by accident.6

I wouldn't have predicted the frontpage would hold up so well, and more about what they'd see, and more importantly, can't take liberties with. If investors were perfect judges, the two would require exactly the same work, except with bosses. But this harmless type of lie can turn sour if left unexamined. What about angels? I talked recently to a founder whose startup had been acquired by a big company. Kerry were so similar in that respect that they might have been brothers. You needed to take care of you.7 But only a bit: willfulness, discipline, and ambition are all concepts almost as complicated as determination. This can only happen in a very limited way in a list of articles that are interesting. Not explicitly, of course, but I can't believe we've considered every alternative. The only place to look is where the spread of computing power. The good news is, choosing problems is something that can be learned.

Suppose you realize there is nothing new in it. The political commentators who come up with shifts to the left, or the painter who can't afford to heat his studio and thus has to wear a beret indoors. Normal food is terribly bad for you. Business still reflects an older model, exemplified by the French, did much of his thinking in Holland. Sorry about that. You needed to take care of the company so it could take care of the company so it could take care of you. The ambitious had little choice but to join large organizations that made them march in step with lots of graffiti and broken windows becomes one where robberies occur. Why do great ideas come from them, even if few do per capita. Certainly they'll learn more. But if it's inborn it should be a good one for beginning writers.

Visiting Sand Hill Road reminds you that the opposite of down and dirty would be up and clean. When I grew up there were only 2 or 3 of most things, precisely because it's open source; anyone can find mistakes. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley as the hot deal, where you write a version 1 very quickly and then gradually modify it, but whether it brings any advantage at all. When it reaches a certain concentration, it kills off the yeast that produced it. That word is not much used now, because the links do. There are two big forces intersect, in the long term, which do you think most will choose? And since we're assuming we're doing this without being able to siphon off what had till recently been the prerogative of the elite. They can work on projects with an intensity in both senses that few insiders can match.

Notes

Something similar happens with suburbs. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us that we wrote in order to switch. The way to see. When I talk about it as if it was because he writes about controversial things.

Common Lisp, because it depends on a form you forgot to fill out can be huge. I now believe that successful startups.

Everyone else was talking about why people dislike Michael Arrington. MITE Corp. Parents move to suburbs to raise five million dollars is no longer written in Lisp, which can make better chairs or knives, crucibles or church organs, than to confuse everyone with a clear upward trend.

The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably the early adopters you evolve the idea of happiness from many older societies.

That name got assigned to it because the test for what she has done, at least for those founders.

There are two ways to get the rankings they want you. One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who wanted to invest but tried to pay employees this way.

Once he showed it could become a so-called signalling risk is also not a big VC firm or they see of piracy is simply what they campaign for. In 1525 he was exaggerating. Super-angels hate to match.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Matt Cohler, Trevor Blackwell, Patrick Collison, and Sam Steingold for the lulz.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #care #commentators #something #investors #word #chairs #evidence #phenomenon #founders #Livingston #problems #advantage #power #sup #time #suburbs #Performance #HN #Hill #windows #year #thing #determination

[prokitty101]

Neptune is so underutilized and it pisses me off - Part 2

Hey, it's me again.

Anyway, I had more than one idea to incorporate Neptune into the plot. Without further ado, here's number 2:

Bring him to Menagerie.

"Prokitty you fucking maroon he's afraid of water." - Alright, cool your jets there, bucko. Just hear me out.

Assuming he DID go to Menagerie with Sun (Possible tied downstairs because lol comedy) it would have a nice contrast in beliefs and understanding Faunus culture, considering Neptune (and Sun) has a case of putting his foot in his mouth.

Rewatching Volume 4 a few times made me realise a lot of things Sun spouted out during their arrival to Menagerie was merely for Blake to give a boring exposition dump to the audience. Unfortunately, that leaves Sun becoming almost annoyingly ignorant to Faunus culture as a whole.

Yes, yes I am aware Sun is Vacuan and he has different views but his behavior throughout was no different to a human visiting Menagerie.

So, having Neptune say the lines instead of Sun would have shown just how different his life is in comparison to Blake and noticeably Sun's. It could go down the route of either an irritable Sun or an apologetic Sun having to feverishly excuse his friend for accidentally and unintentionally saying racist things around Blake and her family.

"Ignore him, for he's... yeah he's dumb."

It would also help Neptune come to an understanding that maybe his parents (referring the the previous post) simply filled his head of nonsense and ridiculous judgement of the Faunus. Additionally, Neptune starts to acknowledge why Sun, someone he grew up with, probably kept a lot of Faunus related things to himself, in order to keep the peace between them.

"But she doesn't even look like a faunus!"

Yup, that line right there. Neptune could easily say this. Like, Blake and Sun ran after Ilia as normal, Sun gets injured but he took a picture of Ilia before she struck him in the chest, leading Neptune yet again to say something totally ignorant. (Uh, when Sun wakes up that is.) That would be the last straw. No more mister nice Sun. He lashes out the big truth bombs to his pal.

Okay now it does appear like I'm somewhat bashing on Neptune, but I'm not. I honestly want the writers to do something that would both benefit his character while throwing some touchy subjects about racism in addition to what they already provided us. Tis a shame it didn't happen.

"Uh they already made a big scene in Volume 1 with Weiss and Blake." - Yeah but Weiss was already a full blown racist from the get go with a terrible view on the faunus and she calmed her ass down offscreen about the faunus.

I'm more gearing towards someone who truly doesn't know how offensive his words could be towards someone he really cares for. Something like that.

This is merely my opinion, feel free to disagree and whatnot.

Anyway.

Neptune vs Ilia

Here is a big reason why I think Neptune being in Menagerie would work. It would save Miles and Kerry from poorly explaining Blake with NIGHT VISION couldn't see Ilia in the dark.

Have Neptune accompany Blake in finding Kali during the White Fang ambush. They see Ilia but Neptune insists that Blake goes on ahead without him. This would be the highlight of his small arc of redemption. With the lectures and berating from Sun finally staying in his mind, Neptune makes this fight personal. Ilia nearly killed his best and he will not let get away with it again.

That's when Ilia, quickly taking note he's a human, turns off the lights. She mocks him in the shadows, spewing her venomous hatred everywhere and ultimately letting her guard down.

Then maybe semblance reveal? Lol idk that's all I got for this one.

To be continued.

#RWBY #RWDE #Neptune Vasilias #Justice for Neptune #My baby boi needs more love

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: Aura

Our first official foray into the worldbuilding category: Aura. The chakra-like soul-energy that functions as the primary fuel source for Semblances, along with a handful of auxiliary features. Despite arguably being one of the cornerstones of RWBY’s lore, the page for it on the RWBY Wiki is worringly short. Like, no joke, it’s not even 2,000 words long. Suffice to say, that’s not a good sign.

Before we get started, let’s make sure everyone’s on the same page by quickly brushing up on our definitions. Aura is the physical manifestation of one’s soul, depicted as a colored emanation around the user. This effect is first visible when a person engages their Aura, and can be seen again when a person’s Aura is close to depletion. As Aura is drained through taking damage, staving off inclement weather, or using one’s Semblance, it begins to rapidly flicker. Upon depletion, it’s represented as either a full-body shimmering effect or a particle effect with “fragments” of Aura falling away from a person’s body, signifying that they’re susceptible to physical damage. Aura is vital not just for its inherent failsafe against injury, but for the other functions it offers, including: an innate healing factor, thermoregulation, conduction of Aura through inanimate objects, extrasensory perception, and unlocking dormant Auras within others. The only prerequisite for possessing Aura is having a soul, something which all life on Remnant (except for the Grimm) has.

You know, it’s amazing just how convenient Aura is. It almost makes you wonder why

EVERYBODY ON REMNANT HASN’T FUCKING UNLOCKED IT.

Seriously, why didn’t Pyrrha use her fame as a platform to raise public awareness on Aura? We know that trained Huntsmen can unlock them for people who have no prior training (looking at you, Jaune). Couldn’t her manager have found the time in-between signing deals with Pumpkin Pete’s to get a campaign going, so she could be sponsored to travel around the country doing exactly that? Why is 90% of Remnant’s population leaving themselves deliberately vulnerable to Grimm and bandits? Seriously, RWBY, what the fuck?

Sorry. Getting ahead of myself. Deep breaths.

Let’s set aside the histrionics for a moment. Aura as a combat mechanic is pretty ingenious when you think about it. It capitalizes on a pretty well-established trope already found in the genre. If you’ve familiarized yourself with the manga and anime scene in the last decade, chances are you know what Naruto is, even if you’ve never read or watched it. Having a magical soul-powered fuel source already gives you the license to justify all of the crazy acrobatics your cast is going to be doing, and given its parallels to chakra, it isn’t going to require too much explaining to a genre-savvy audience. In theory, anyway.

I think part of the problem is that RWBY’s writing relies a little too heavily on fans having at least a vague pre-established understanding of the concept behind Aura. It lets the show dodge having to answer problems that arise from under-developing its world. Aura’s utility as a combat accessory, coupled with all of the extra functions I mentioned earlier, creates the problem of: If this tool is so useful, why doesn’t everyone have it?

If you’ve never seen Hello Future Me’s video on magic systems, I highly recommend you check it out. Without even mentioning RWBY, he manages to pinpoint the flaw with Aura (and by extension, the common flaw with most fantasy magic systems): differentiating between limitations, weaknesses, and costs.

I’ll let him take over from here:

“The most common form of limitation is a vaguely-defined limit of strength, or training, or mental acumen of the practitioner. Avatar: The Last Airbender is kind of like this. There’s no explicit limit to how much fire a person can conjure, or how strong a wind they can muster, but we know it’s kind of limited by their training, willpower, strength, and talent. Think of it as the rule of: THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH AWESOME ONE HUMAN CAN HANDLE. If you’re really trying to differentiate your hard-magic system from this common trope, then think about not relying on this particular limitation, but maybe something else. Perhaps certain powers can be negated or are affected by certain things in the environment around them, like the moon, certain plants, or minerals. That way, your magician has to be aware of their surroundings at all times, or it can be used against them by their enemies.

Secondly: weaknesses. Weaknesses in magic systems can create interesting dynamics in a story where magic would usually make a character a lot more powerful than those around them. Maybe they can transform into a werewolf at will, but that makes them vulnerable to silver bullets, though, once again, making these limitations to your magic too simple can make them…uninteresting. […] If you have multiple different powers in your story, it could be interesting to have the use of one power making them more vulnerable to another, so your character has to be cautious about using their powers around someone who could take advantage of that. …I personally feel the best magic systems affect the way your characters think or act or change the way your fictional world operates.

Finally and thirdly, perhaps the most common way that people create rules for their magic system is through magic costing something. […] Perhaps the most common magical cost is that of bodily energy. In The Wheel of Time and The Inheritance Cycle, doing something with magic exhausts you, which is fine until you try and be too magically heroic, and you overdose on magical heroin and die.” [1]

Seriously, go watch this guy’s video. He’s great.

With all of that in mind, let’s take his thesis and apply it to Aura:

Does Aura have any limitations? Not really. We’re vaguely told by Kerry Shawcross that it’s possible to increase the amount of Aura a person has, but that it’s “impractical.” Most people try to get more efficient at using Aura instead of trying to get a “bigger gauge.” [2] Unfortunately, the show hasn’t provided any evidence of what “getting more efficient” looks like—whether that’s simply increasing your training, or undertaking a specific kind of training. Is Aura like a muscle that becomes stronger the more you exercise it? We don’t know. The show hasn’t given us a definitive metric for measuring training progress, so it’s up for debate.

Does Aura have any weaknesses? Sort of. You could argue that there’s a trade-off between using your Semblance versus simply relying on Aura to tank hits. A combatant’s innate defense system draws from the same energy source as a Semblance, which could create an interesting choice between offense and defense. Do I rely on my Semblance to win, or should I conserve Aura for other things, like activating Dust or staving off hypothermia? My issue with this being a credible weakness is that we don’t really see characters grapple with this dilemma on-screen. Taiyang tells Yang to decrease her dependency on her Semblance, but that has more to do with Yang’s Semblance enabling an aggressive attack style that gives her opponents more openings, than it does anything to do with conserving Aura for other things. [3]

Does Aura have any costs? That’s a resounding no. A Semblance costs Aura to use, but Aura itself doesn’t demand anything in exchange for activating it.

From every conceivable angle, Aura sounds like a pretty sweet deal. And that’s the problem: there’s no believable in-lore explanation for why the entire world doesn’t simply have a Huntsman unlock it for them.

So how do we rectify this?

What if having an unlocked Aura made a person more likely to attract Grimm? We already know that Grimm track people primarily through detecting negatively-valenced emotions and the presence of nearby souls. If we wanted to give Aura’s aesthetic appearance some more significance beyond simply being cool to look at, what if Grimm can sense that emanation? If a person with a locked Aura is akin to a matchstick, then what if a person with an unlocked Aura looked like a bonfire by comparison? The very tool used to fight Grimm has the drawback of also attracting Grimm, or worse, causing Grimm to prioritize you as a target.

Not only would this give us an answer for why the entire world doesn’t unlock their Auras, but it opens the floodgates for lore and worldbuilding ideas: If unlocked Auras can attract Grimm (even when not in use), do governments have an incentive to regulate how many of its citizens have unlocked Auras? Are only certain members of the population allowed to unlock their Auras, like Huntsmen or soldiers? What happens if you accidentally unlock your Aura? Would the government force you to pay a tax, or make you choose between conscription into either the military or a Huntsman Academy? There’s an entire afternoon’s worth of ethical debates right there.

But let’s say that unlocking your Aura doesn’t attract Grimm, in which case, maybe there’s some sort of societal stigma against it. What if you’re afraid of unlocking your Aura because that means, by extension, opening up the possibility of discovering your Semblance? What if you’re afraid of getting a passive Semblance that causes misfortune? What if you gain a pyrokinetic Semblance that’s hard to control, and without training you run the risk of hurting yourself or others?

We can even take this a step further if we consider how Aura and Semblances can be abused by others. What if at some point in history there was a monarch that would forcibly unlock their citizens’ Auras and force them to serve in their army? Skip forward several generations and picture a well-meaning Huntsman passing through a village. They stop to chat with the locals, and an inquisitive child comes up to them and asks about what it’s like being a Huntsman and having an unlocked Aura. The Huntsman, unaware of the history of the region, offers to unlock the child’s Aura for them. Cue the parents and nearby townsfolk panicking as their thoughts immediately go toward the tyrannical monarch from long ago, and the number of child soldiers forced to bleed for that king.

If we wanted to make Aura inconvenient, we could even introduce Aura- and Semblance-specific diseases transmitted via Grimm. Take a moment to imagine what it would be like if you lived in a world where you never had to worry about getting the flu, as long as you refrained from doing one specific thing. How’s that for an incentive? Now apply that to RWBY, and suddenly there’s a whole list of Grimm-based illnesses that you’re automatically immune to as long as you don’t unlock your Aura.

The possibilities are endless.

With a little creativity it wouldn’t be hard to give realistic, in-world answers for why unlocked Auras aren’t more prevalent: everything from mechanical drawbacks, limitations, weaknesses, risk factors, cultural taboos, stigmas, you name it.

I wanted to complain more about the vagueness of Aura’s healing factor and how it relates to Aura depletion—like how the hell Hazel stabbed himself with Dust crystals while his Aura was still active; wouldn’t the healing factor have caused them to just shoot out of his arms like magical splinters?—but this post is getting long, and I want to wrap things up. I think I’ve made my point.

Join me next time when I put another one of RWBY’s core concepts on the chopping block.

-

[1] Hello Future Me. “On Writing: hard magic systems in fantasy [ Avatar l Fullmetal Alchemist l Mistborn ]” YouTube video.  February 07, 2018. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMJQb5bGu_g&list=WL&index=351&t=0s]

[2] Shawcross, Kerry. “CRWBY AMA.” Reddit interview. February 12, 2018. [https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5bpdm/?context=3]

[3] Volume 4, Episode 9: “Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back.”

#deconstruction #writing #worldbuilding #mechanical aspects #aura #semblances

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

#legion fx