#i doubt i can make a whole deck before my inspiration dies out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

houseboatisland · 3 years

Note

Is Elizabeth on your island, and if so how has she adjusted after decades abandoned?

She is! And here's my headcanon for her:

Topham Hatt I, (The Fat Director,) had by 1926 accumulated a small fortune as General Manager of the North Western Railway. Reputed as a workaholic, (or boss-aholic,) Topham had sunk considerable amounts of money into his sprawling Wellsworth estate, Topham Hall. Topham was inspired by the undertaking of his sometime friend Sir Robert Walker, the Baronet of Sand Hutton. Walker's estate utilized war surplus one foot and three inch gauge locomotives to carry distinguished guests, agricultural produce, and coal to and bricks deriving from the nearby brickworks of Claxton.

The resulting pet project, the Topham Hall Railway, is where Elizabeth's story begins.

The T.H.R. was laid to what had essentially become the Sudrian "standard narrow gauge," of two feet and three inches. The line started from its Exchange Siding with Wellsworth Station, and made several crossings through the streets of that town's suburbs, before reaching the estate grounds. Hall Station brought passengers within a stone's throw of the mansion itself. Moving on, the line dove into the woods through a magical tree tunnel, with a spur at its opening for the engine and carriage shed. Crossing a brook over a three-span wooden trestle bridge, another station and a few sidings known as "Orchard Station" served the fruit and vegetable orchard. Another mile or so, and the railway stopped again for "Bowler's Station," where the Hatts and any guests could detrain for the estate's cricket pavilion.

Another half a mile, and the railway terminated at the Wellsworth Brickworks. This had been a puny operation before the THR linked up with it, employing only three men or so. After the railway's arrival, it expanded to employ a few dozen, and three more kilns were added. Throughout the Great Depression, Topham kept the Brickworks open and its employees onboard out of his own pocket, even as the bricks accumulated unsold. This was far more humanitarian than his treatment of NWR employees and three of his engines!

The railway had one locomotive, a royal purple Kerr Stuart 'Tattoo' class, named "Little Barford," technically a brother of the Mid Sodor Railway's No. 4, "Stuart." Little Barford arrived also with several v-tipper wagons, a dozen ex-War Department bogie wagons, four-wheel trucks and two ambulance vans. The ambulance vans were thoroughly rebuilt by the estate's woodshop to become an elaborate passenger coach, and a "Dining Car," which was quite identical save for the fewer seats and teeny gas cooker. The passenger coach saw constant use, but the Dining Car mostly sat in the siding at Bowler's Station as it cooked. The line was so short, it never could've done more than boil an egg while moving to timetable!

Capping off this complement of rolling stock was one Sentinel DG4 "Overtype" Steam Lorry, quickly named Elizabeth, after the Duchess of York's newborn daughter. Elizabeth was absolutely coveted by Topham, though he wasn’t exactly a steady hand at the wheel. Elizabeth was kept polished to perfection, even when her work involved carting such grubby loads as soil, clay, and coal. She was in every respect a "father's princess," but she worked dutifully and loved Little Barford like a twin brother. She also learned from her Victorian old master her favorite catchphrase, "We are/are not amused!" depending on the context.

The Second World War began in September 1939, and this national shift in priorities turned Elizabeth’s devil-may-care youth on its head. The Wellsworth Brickworks shuttered as many of its men volunteered or were called up, and housing construction all but ended. Little Barford was kept on at the Hall as the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries set to increase production on Topham Hall’s farms. Elizabeth on the other hand was, for the first time, moved away from her only home. As the civilian petrol rationing situation tightened, and private motoring was eventually banned, Elizabeth was suddenly very valuable as a coal-fired road vehicle.

She was commandeered and relocated to Tidmouth Harbour, working night and day as a dockside lorry. This was a very stressful period for her, for she was utterly friendless and out of her element. Although Sodor was never bombed, the routine blackout drills and stories of other ports destroyed, such as Liverpool, took their toll on her mentally. At some point however, she "bucked up." Elizabeth realized she was no longer an aristocrat's toy. For all she knew, Topham had probably forgotten her. As the military lorries she came face to face with daily were almost all of the internal-combustion type, who was to say that when, if ever the war was over, that he'd want her back if he remembered her?

In these circumstances, Elizabeth adopted her more familiar, stiff-upper lip personality. There was no time for polish or quaint little rides to the cricket pavilion, there was a war on! She became grubby, and liked to be grubby. She worked like the devil, and loved that even more. Her posh accent never left her, but she was now in every respect out to be a working girl. Elizabeth would never admit it to herself, but this huge change of self owed much to her upset at being removed from her only home. Did she legitimately like being a working lorry, rather than an estate owner's princess? Certainly she did. Was it an easy and completely voluntary change of character? Of course not. But it was done, and Elizabeth spent many nights assuring herself that it was the right path, the only path to have taken.

1945, the end of the war. Everyone was so jubilant. Elizabeth was cleaned and polished like a crown jewel, decked out with flags and bunting, and allowed to participate in the Tidmouth Victory Parade. In several colour newswreels of the event, you can spot her amid the cascade of tickertape and throngs of soldiers, nurses, longshoremen, civilians, tanks and lorries. It was no doubt a fun day for her, but now she thought a great deal about the future.

The war, which had been everything to her for six years, was over. Soldiers were being demobilized and coming home. Industries were retooling for the postwar world, to make consumer goods rather than several airplanes an hour. The Attlee Government, in conjunction with the devolved Sudrian Parliament established in 1946, had a grand vision for The Mainland and Sodor, where the welfare state for the long-suffering people and machines was vastly expanded, their jobs would be increasingly unionized and their bosses answerable to them, rather than the other way around.

Despite the historically harsh winter into the New Year of 1947, Sudrian workers, bouncing back much quicker than their Mainland counterparts, were delighted with PM Attlee's "New Jerusalem." Tidmouth Harbour was still very busy, as Sodor's biggest gate in and out for the world, and Elizabeth kept calm and carried on as time marched on. She was much busier than she had first feared, and that winter was her time to shine as so many petrol lorries were out of commission with "head colds." Elizabeth convinced herself, somehow, that these thousands and thousands of war surplus petrol lorries wouldn't take over. If so many had taken ill in these conditions, maybe Sodor, or even the whole world, would consider turning back the clock and restoring steam to the roads completely.

She feared and resented petrol lorries something terrible. When the petrol ration which had enabled her life all this time, was finally ended, she was heartbroken. Every worry she had seemed to come to pass all at once. First, the Tidmouth Harbour Authority decided it would be much cheaper to stack its fleet with war surplus lorries, and she was out of a job. Her next owner, a furniture mover, didn't keep her long, and neither did the next, a man who planned to fit her out as a bus and ran out of money.

By 1956, when the now-knighted Sir Topham Hatt I had died, Elizabeth had already been accumulating dust in a shed for two years. She never saw her last owner, who by now had failed to pay rent on her storage. Anopha Quarry, who owned the tumbledown little shack, seized her to make up the difference, but never once came to inspect the lorry who was now their property. Eventually, the Quarry forgot about her too.

It wasn't until 1961, when a little blue puffer deputizing for Toby on the Quarry Tramway carelessly had a coupling rod failure, that she reemerged. She made a heartstopping journey down the line for the necessary spare rod, pins, oilpot and tools in Ffarquhar Sheds, where she stirred up quite a scene, before an even more uncomfortable journey back. Elizabeth's Sentinel heritage thankfully preserved her for the whole ordeal, when Thomas' Driver, then at her wheel, worried that she'd explode and take him with her.

Back into the shed she went after this good deed, for how long, if ever to come out again, she didn't know. Until of course, that same night, a man very like her old Master, named Bertram just like his son whom she had given so many rides through the orchards and to cricket games, came to make a visit...

You can guess the rest :3

Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I was reunited with his childhood friend, and his father's favorite lorry. He immediately sent for her with his own money to be restored, and at once moved her back to Topham Hall, where she was herself reunited with the closest thing to a brother she'd ever had, Little Barford, who this whole time had been working as well as ever, and wondered why no one had ever gone to look for Elizabeth despite all his questions. It had been assumed, wrongly, that Elizabeth had perished on war service. That's how the Tidmouth Harbour Authority wrote it, after they pocketed her sale money! (Sir Bertram was LIVID not to get his hands on the now deceased Harbourmaster responsible.)

Elizabeth is now back to her childhood home hauling farm produce and any visitor willing to get dirty, for she still insists on carrying a bit of grime as a testament to her labours. The Wellsworth Brickworks has reopened, on a much smaller scale, as a "living museum," and Elizabeth takes great joy in carrying clay and coal again. Her, Little Barford, and Sir Bertram are now tighter than they've ever been, and Sir Bertram is the only man allowed to polish her. He's a much more sedated force at the wheel than his father, she notes, and quite often!

We ARE amused to see her <3

#ttte #ttte elizabeth #ttte the fat director #topham hall railway #ttte little barford #ttte worldbuilding #ttte thomas #ttte oc: sir bertram hatt i #tw death

23 notes · View notes

helianthus21 · 4 years

Text

This thing got around again and i got inspired:

Your The Worst Part 2: Assholes on a Roadtrip

(AO3, ~1,6k)

Dean arranges the bottles of water and beer in the cooler before loading the whole thing into the backseat of his car. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sam stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down to his brother like the very picture of disapproval, signalling to him that no, this is definitely not a good idea, before Dean can even answer. “I mean, you guys basically just fight all the time,” he goes on. “Imagine that on an eight hour car ride where neither of you can escape when things get rough.” “We’re doing this, Sammy.” Rolling his eyes, Dean heaves the second duffel bag into the trunk, grunts dramatically at the unexpected weight. “The hell did you pack, whole ass bricks?” Castiel marches out of the house with a bag of snacks in his arms. Probably all rabbit food, Dean wagers gloomily. Good that he thought to hide his stash of beef jerky and M&Ms in his Baby long before Cas appeared with his own luggage, his own very wrong idea of a good time. “Just the essentials,” answers Cas crisply. Stretching his back, Dean eyes him, one brow raised to the line of his hair. “Uh-huh.” He moves, and the zipper of Cas’ duffel is opened before Cas can so much as let out a warning shout. “Cas,” he scolds, staring down at the infernal device that poses as Cas’ laptop. “We said no work on vacation.”

“It’s not for work,” lies the liar. “It’s for, uh, ‘watching Netflix’ in the evening.” He’s actually using finger quotes, the dweeb, as if there’s so much as a chance his idea of Netflix and chill is anything other than painfully literal. “Nice try,” Dean says. “This thing’s not coming with.” And he pulls the laptop out of the bag by thumb and forefinger, as if the merest touch could infect him with workaholic-itis and transform him into a bore just like Cas. “No, you don’t hold it like – give me the–” Cas dives forward to catch his dearest possession before Dean can accidentally let it slip through his fingers. Cas cradles the thing in his arms like a fragile baby.

The plan where the laptop dies a tragic, unexpected death foiled, Dean narrows his eyes at him. “The thing’s not coming,” he repeats with finality.

“Your thing is coming. I demand equality,” argues Cas, angling his body to shield the laptop from Dean’s contemptuous gaze.

“Yeah but my thing is the car that brings us places,” Dean reminds him, and he likes to think this line of argumentation gains him the upperhand.

“Your thing is a gas-eating deathtrap on four wheels.”

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “I’m gonna drive us places with shit to no WiFi,” he decides and nods, satisfied with his retribution. “You–” Cas begins, vitriol in his voice. But Sam interrupts his impending torrent of curses. “See, that’s what I mean.” He gestures between the two of them as if presenting the key piece of evidence in court. “I’m giving you guys two hours,” he decides. “By then I’ll probably be scraping one of your’s remains off some street in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam doesn’t get the relationship he has with Cas. He’d been totally dumbstruck when Dean told him that his asshole hospital roommate was now also his asshole romantic partner. He’d been seconds away from suggesting his head be scanned in case his leg wasn’t the only thing damaged in the car accident.

They’re like sprinkling oil into a kitchen fire, Sam says.

He doesn’t get that that’s exactly what excites Dean about Cas. Cas keeps him on his toes, keeps the flame between them alight, and Dean craves the way that makes him feel alive. With Cas, the grocery store becomes a war zone. Movie night a court case.

It’s fun.

It’s passionate.

And beyond all that is the way they understand each other. How Cas lets Dean take care of him in the gruff, understated way of his, and how Cas thanks him with his stupid snide remarks that do little to hide the softness around his edges. Sam knows nothing of the times Cas tries to cook meals for him that end up tasting like rubberband when Dean’s back aches too much from work to get back up from the couch. Or the times Cas nuzzles his neck like a touch-starved kitten as they huddle close in the afterglow.

Sam doesn’t get all that because Cas, for him, is stored in his memory as the rude as fuck patient everyone in the corridor was trying to avoid.

He’s mostly wrong, of course.

But he might’ve been onto something with the road trip thing being a bad idea.

***

They’re at each other’s throats by hour two-and-a-half. Dean knows because he checked the clock just so he can rub it into Sam’s face later that he was off by about half an hour.

The first mistake was for Cas to reach for the tape deck to forward to the next song or, god forbid, eject the whole cassette. Naturally, Dean has to slap his hand away before Cas can follow through with his evil plan. “Ow!” Cas complains dramatically. Baby, Dean thinks. The hit wasn’t even that hard.

“Driver picks the music, Cas, them’s the rules!” Dean reminds him firmly.

“And the rules are laid down by whom again?” “By the driver, of course.” Cas shifts in his seat, impatient. “I can drive.” Dean scoffs. “Over my dead body.”

He feels Cas’ glare on him, hot and vengeful. “I can drive,” he repeats, and his tone allows no argument.

But he’s barking up the wrong tree. Baby is Dean’s territory, and he’ll defend it against anyone, even the one who gets him laid spectacularly on a regular basis.

“Babe, you can boss me around anywhere else. But here, I’m the authority.” He pats Baby’s leather gently to accentuate his point.

Cas narrows his eyes at him in a way that promises nothing good, but then his attention shifts, and he snatches something out of his veggie snack bag. His gaze turns to the scenery that flies by them outside, and Dean’s almost lulled into the false sense of security Cas set up if not for the smell.

“The fuck is that,” Dean demands, holding a hand before his nose.

“Tuna salad sandwich,” Cas replies with angelic innocence. “Organic.”

“A crime against nature, that’s what it is.” Dean fake-gags a couple times in the hopes of spoiling Cas’ appetite.

But Cas just turns a cool look on him. “With both my hands on the wheel, I wouldn’t be able to eat this,” he points out like the evil genius he is.

One miscalculation though – Dean’s been on hundreds of roadtrips like this with Sam’s burrito-digesting ass. So he just rolls down the window and, to Cas’ immense displeasure, endures.

***

It all escalates on hour five, when Cas points out, “We’re lost.”

Irritated, Dean shakes his head. “Nah, we’re not. I know exactly where we are.”

Cas is raising a brow at him, Dean knows that as a fact without even dragging his eyes away from the road. “Do you.” The dryness of his voice makes it clear how absolutely moronic Cas thinks he is.

His hand clenches tightly on the steering wheel as he grits out, “Yes.” Doubting his driving skills and sense of direction is the fastest way to drive him up the wall, and Cas knows it.

Like a highly disappointed wife, Cas draws out his sigh. “We should ask someone for the way.”

Dean steers Baby to the side and jams on the brakes so hard, they’re both catapulted forwards before the seat belt throws them back into the seat. Behind them, someone yells obscenities and a car honks angrily as it passes them.

Turning his head slowly, Dean says, voice dangerously low, “You did not just suggest that.”

“I did, in fact,” Cas says back, calm as anything, as if his heart isn’t beating like a jackrabbit against his ribcage from the unexpected halt. “And since you pulled up already,” he continues on this perilous path, unbuckles his seat belt. “We can now find someone to give us the directions.”

“If you step out of this car, Novak, I swear I’ll leave you in this godforsaken town and you can walk the rest of the way.”

Looking straight at him like a cat pushing a glass off the desk, Cas steps out of the car.

Dean takes a moment to gape at Cas, digesting the betrayal. “Okay, that’s it,” he says as soon as he recovers, and restarts the car. He doesn’t stay to watch Cas approach a helpful looking lady with a map.

***

Half an hour later, he pulls up at the small town’s only diner.

Cas is sitting inside. His booth’s purpusoley facing the door but his gaze is equally purposely focussed on his plate.

Dean slides onto the seat opposite him without a word. The waitress comes over and he orders a bacon cheese burger with chilli fries and a coke and waits for his food to arrive.

Only when the burger is placed in front of him and he’s taken a sip from his glass does he break the silence. “So, you know where to go now?”

Face unreadable, Cas meets his gaze. “We have to go back and take the second exit on the highway,” he offers.

“Good,” Dean says, taking another bite of his burger. “Good. I knew that.”

A small smile slips onto Cas’ face, there and gone again, but not unseen. “Of course.”

Cas orders apple pie to-go and hands it to Dean. Dean hands him the car keys in return. As they leave the diner, Cas hooks an arm under Dean’s and rests his head on his shoulder briefly.

They listen to Zeppelin as Cas leads them back onto the highway.

#spn #destiel #ficlet #heli tries to write #au #modern au #assholes in love #established destiel #dean pov #i've thought about a roadtrip sequel for a long time #bc where else but a hospital and a road trip can u get at each other's throats as easily #i don't love ch.1 but ch2 turned out pretty okay i think #my thesis suffered for this guys argh

36 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Choice ― III.iii. Belief

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Some people spend their whole lives looking for something to believe in. They're lucky that they never had to.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Two months later…

Cynbel watches as Ambrose leans against the railing with hands braced on the cold metal. Colder sea spray lashes at their cheeks under the night sky but they pay it little mind. They have, perhaps, had enough heat and fire to last more than one mortal lifetime.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fill in my life.” The American groans, and Cynbel actually feels bad for him.

“There is far more to this life than fighting someone else’s wars. Give it time — you’ll see why we were starving so.”

Together the man glance down to the depths below. Where the foam left in the wake of their ship fades pink from bodies already lost underneath the ocean’s current.

“If y’all eat like that every day I’m startin’ to get it.”

And true enough the last few weeks of travel have been positively lavish compared to the squalor of mine living. Even this limited food supply seems boundless when they remember the rot of starvation in their bellies. But that does not diminish how good it is — how good it feels to be, not unlike the sea, free.

Sayeed held up her end of the bargain, so it was only fair that Cynbel and Isseya do the same. The where of their journey did not matter so long as they were far from Virginia’s shores. The when was with haste — and for good reason.

With none left to lead them the remaining militia of the Order of the Dawn was made harmless. The comparisons of the sides were unfortunately fraught with similarities, some not even Cynbel could deny. As the Order had culled the Old Blood; the vampires who had survived centuries of their fruitless extermination attempts, so had the war turned in their favor. But with only the newly inducted left to lead them — and many with ties that bound them to communities, to families; to vulnerability — their ‘holy mission’ was made second to the more pressing matters of the not-so-United States.

He couldn’t care less about the Godmaker’s plans now, whether he chooses to retaliate against the Trinity’s desertion of him or not. Two decks below his beloveds pass the boring hours with card games and wistful possibilities of when they make port.

He needs nothing else.

Now imagine their surprise at the familiar sight catching the last call to board. His battalion may now be nothing more than ash but there was no reason for Ambrose to turn and run. In fact Valdas had a strong inclination to name him Gaius’ spy and cast him overboard.

With only a matter of days before they find Europe on the horizon… he actually can’t remember why they didn’t.

A life for a life.

In between shuffled decks and lavish feasting and their halfhearted attempts at breaking through the hull by way of their beds, though, the Golden Son has found himself fond of the man. Older in appearance and admittedly wise beyond his years — but still so very new to what this life could offer—would offer, now.

Habit makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand when Ambrose reaches inside the breast pocket of his coat; eases when he sees the tinder box and cigarettes rolled with absolutely no skill whatsoever in his hands.

Ambrose sparks the tinder. Cynbel swallows down nightmares of hellfire. They share a moment of quiet.

“I should have said this before…” Cynbel begins around a mouth of ill-tasting smoke, “but when we make port this — our camaraderie — will come to an end.”

He’s come to expect the long silences in between answers, so much so that it barely feels like any time has passed at all when Ambrose finally does speak.

“I thought as much.” And doesn’t that just make the older vampire laugh.

“Two millennia and only now do we meet someone who understands. Shame and pity.”

“Oh I don’t, not even a lick.” The eyes that meet his, though, contradict Ambrose in every way. Eyes that seem sure and solid despite the rocking beneath their feet. So he continues.

“You three — whatever you’ve got there is… it’s dangerous.” So they have been told, and by lesser men. “But through this whole fight I’ve seen men Turn, live, and die over and over again without even a drop of the conviction you two’ve got for your Maker. I’ll be frank with you, Cynbel. It’s unsettling.”

“It’s love.”

“Is that what love is? I’m really askin’ here. Because I sure as hell ain’t ever felt a love like that. Not in this lifetime or the one that came before it.”

Just like that the conversation takes a turn for the uninteresting. Cynbel draws his attention out to the midnight horizon, where one can’t tell the sky from the sea. “All the more pitiful are you, then. I will not justify what we are for your whims, Ambrose. Not for you, not for Sayeed, not for anyone.”

“You misunderstand.”

“I doubt that.”

“It ain’t your strange-like love I’m interested in, but rather what it makes you.”

The only reason he’d offered Ambrose company was because Iss’ refused to play anything other than rummy, and he’s terrible at rummy. And standing here he can’t help but wonder which is more of a torture.

“You and Isseya nearly died for him. And I think you would have should that have been what you needed to do.”

“Of course we would have.”

“And I couldn’t understand why — not really. Why you’d risk yourselves, risk anyone else, but not him.”

Cynbel doesn’t bother hiding the venom in his answer. “Because He is more than they were. More than Iss’ or myself could ever hope to be. That is the kind of devotion He inspires. Would you not do the same for Augustine? Or your First, to make a finer comparison of it.”

The same long pause — but this one drags out. Thin, fragile between them and quickly unraveling at the seams. Then—

“No.”

“Then you’re wasting time searching for answers when you would not even recognize them when found. We would have died for Him — of course. But that is merely part of it. That is what the rest of the world sees and takes us to be entirely. We are more than the death we bring and would bear for Him.

“No one seems to realize that we lived for him. Just as fiercely — perhaps even more so because we could have died, but we did not. That is what has driven our lust for living; not that we would fall to our knees and take the sword with our necks for Him, but that He gives us the strength to take the sword in hand and say ‘no more.’”

Perhaps it would be nice to be understood for once. For the ages not to seem so ignorant and dull as they always have because one person — just one, that’s all it would take — realizes their love is not about sacrifice. But that it is about survival.

In silence Ambrose takes out another cigarette, more flint. Offers him one but Cynbel declines with a small shake of his head. Four weeks he’s been able to put the events of that day behind him as he had always done. Left it in the past and continued on to a future where they need not worry about being apart.

Four fucking weeks, but that’s all.

Ambrose keeps the cigarette between his lips when he speaks again. “I lived human for forty-some years. Spent my whole young life livin’ just as most did; you understand,” —he marched the breadth of those states just the same, he understands quite well— “and Turnin’ gave me more than just the power to free myself. It gave me — well, I thought — somethin’ to believe in.”

“Immortality?”

“The First.” The way he says her name is wistful enough to strike up a curiosity in Cynbel, much like the small flame struck up on his tinderbox.

Wistful, and no longer so reverent.

“Won’t say I’m the only one, either. There were a lotta boys like me who heard about the First Vampire who rose herself up from false judgment, from bein’ put in chains on another’s lies, and not only struck her enemies down but wanted to make a place where all like her were just as free.”

They are words that draw Cynbel back to Charlottesville, to the barn and Ambrose with his little box of ashes and his little gathering and his little words of worship and meaning in their comrade’s death. Strange that the man from then is the same one who stands before him now.

“Faith does wonders in times of strife.”

“It did — ‘til I heard you two talk about your Maker, your Made-God.”

“And what has that changed in you, hm?”

“The first time I ever heard Augustine tell the story of the First Vampire he made sure we well knew that every death was a piece’a her power going home — just another drop to fill some vessel that would bring her back to save us.

“But you don’t think like that,” Ambrose says it like a revelation; like wool no longer being pulled over his eyes, “and it got me thinking about what exactly I’m keepin’ immortality for. ‘Cause I gotta say doin’ it for a love like that sounds a helluva lot better than staying around just so some day I can die for a myth.”

Cynbel narrows his eyes. “The First was no myth. She was very real.”

“I’m sure she was, Old Blood. To you and Isseya and even Valdas, probably. Just like she’s real to Augustine and Sayeed. But that’s all two thousand years gone now. Who knows if she’ll ever come back, or when. That makes her pretty myth-like to me.”

What does one say to that? He may have propositioned Ambrose for this their night of feasting with a bottle of cheap liquor in hand but it wasn’t nearly enough to bring this kind of philosophical debate out of him. Yet it’s affirming in a way—not that any of the Trinity would seek affirmation for themselves, for their devotion to one another—he didn’t quite expect.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re trying to confess your love to me or not.”

“Ha!” Ambrose laughs so hard his cigarette tumbles into the sea not half-finished. Deserves it. “In your dreams. Though I’ll start rackin’ up a tally seeing as that’s the second time you’ve propositioned me.”

“You’re being terribly rude. And it’s a terribly long swim back to the colonies.”

But the other man just shakes his head. “Truth be told no one’s ever let me ramble on this long about anythin’. Ended up a little off the tracks.”

“A little?”

“All I’m saying, Cynbel, is you and yours —”

“The Trinity, respect your elders.”

“— yeah, sure. Whatever you call yourselves—that kind of devotion can be inspiring to my kind of folk. A lot more than prayin’ on ‘maybes.’ What was that thing, the one Isseya said in the caravan.”

“Which — oh, while she was eating your man for insubordination?”

There’s a clatter behind them and both men turn towards it. They had found themselves so deep in debate that neither took notice to the young couple stretching their legs under the moon. To the young wife who looks aghast and sullied just for hearing the words and to her young husband suddenly trying to pull her to some imagined safety.

Cynbel and Ambrose take the same moment to watch them scurry along before they resume. A needed break in the tension.

He remembers it of course. Clear as the daylight that had struck them down. Even in their desperation and fear for Valdas’ fate it was hard—literally—not to hear such things from her bloodied teeth and find himself aroused.

“‘I choose to believe in a God who walks beside me. Who will answer when I call.’”

Ambrose nods. “Strange and, pardon my French, fuckin’ insane as she was then, that’s the kind of stuff gospels are made from.”

“So you’re proposing, what,” Cynbel’s disbelief is obvious, “The Gospel of Valdemaras?”

Silence. Real, non-hesitant silence. The kind of silence that forces Cynbel to face the man for answers and finds them in a resolution unfounded in those strange, dark eyes.

Well… one person finally understands. If only he knew what that means.

#bloodbound #bloodbound fanfiction #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #choices bb #oc: cynbel #oc: isseya #oc: valdas #oc: ambrose #oblv: bound by choice #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

2 notes · View notes

rivienna · 4 years

Text

I really did mean to post this nearly two weeks ago, but I got distracted with deck repairs. I've bitched about the rotten joist everywhere else, why not also mention it on my writing blog? ANYWAYS.

AU where Faith is an Argent, aka Quarantine AU idea #1.

Obviously this is a Buffy/Teen Wolf crossover, inspired by thinking about how LWTW's Allison was Faith in a previous life and the sort of mess that could be if Allienne meet canon!Faith.

Inserting Faith as one of Gerard's kids puts her in the middle child spot, seeing as she was born in 1980 and Kate in 1983. As I doubt that Gerard would name a kid Faith, I picked the name Alexandra before finding out that apparently he had a brother named Alexander?

Eh, it works so I'll go with it. One of these days I'll watch past episode five.

Faith never actually struck me as 18 when she was first introduced into the series, but whatever that works for this AU. Her family life up until 1998 is rough and distinctly Not Fun, and she's been trained as the Argent Heir (Kate is "the spare") and to hate anything and anyone supernatural... so getting Called throws her for a goddamn loop. The man she's named for shot himself when he was Bit and she knows that if she tells her family that she would be expected to do the exact same thing even though she's not a wolf.

While she's trying to figure out what to do, she meets her first Watcher and discovers a whole new level to the hunting business. Her Watcher helps her make the decision that there is no way her family would understand the whole Slayer thing, and helps her fake her death so that they don't come after her.

Everything goes the same as canon with Faith up until she's jailed under her real name, at which point Gerard finds out that hey guess what. His middle child is actually alive! He keeps it to himself, visiting her in jail exactly once. Neither of them come out of that meeting happy.

Both Chris and Kate still think Alexandra is dead. Part of Kate's intense hatred for werewolves comes from believing that they killed her sister which put her directly in Gerard's focus as the new heir to groom into the perfect werewolf killer.

Chris' decision to keep Allison out of the family business until she's an adult/finds out in the worst possible way is also due in part to Alexandra/Faith's supposed death. Keeping Allison alive the way he couldn't keep his sister alive is pretty much his only goal in life for many many years, and it puts him on the very edge of the family business. He’s too focused on keeping Allison in the dark to see how far Kate and Gerard have gone.

Allison herself may have some memories of Aunt Alex, since she would have been four when she vanished. She may not. I haven't decided.

Looking at the timelines, Chosen happens in the same year that Paige dies (2003), which is apparently two years before the Hale fire? Interesting, interesting. Basically all that means is that the Argents were Very Distracted while Buffy activated all of the Slayers. I will ignore how Angel ended and all the comics/novels/things that come after because I have not seen/read any of those and quite frankly I don't want to. I like my supernatural adventures done in secret thank you.

Would it be too much of a coincidence if the cousin that bit Oz was a Hale? Because whoops! Oz's cousin Jordy is now a Hale. Jordy and Maureen and Ken Hale. Also dead in the fire because I want it that way. Ken as a sibling of Talia & Peter, maybe? Maureen would be the sister of one of Oz's parents. With Oz fucked off to Tibet no one in the Scooby Gang is aware of the connection until much much later.

Gerard does know that Alexandra has gotten out of jail but that's about as far as it goes. He suspects she might have something to do with a trail of girls going missing in the same way that she had at 18, but he can't tie her to any of the girls. He can't even track her down and that pisses him off.

Insert... a whole lot of stuff happening between the Hale fire in 2005 and the 2010/2011 start of Teen Wolf. Laura searching out Oz? Maybe that takes a few years because she's chasing down leads after the town he grew up in fell into a sinkhole. Even a bitten wolf from a married-in part of the family would be welcome pack to an Alpha who has lost everything, right?

So when Laura's body turns up, there are two people the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department attempts to contact: Derek, because he's her brother, and Oz, because he's the next in line to take care of Peter's medical bills. For whatever reason, Oz can't get back to the States anytime soon and contacts the Scoobies to look into a) Laura's murder, b) see if anyone can track down Derek, and c) whether or not they can move Peter to a Slayer-secured medical center. Faith is the Slayer tagged to look into things and that's a family reunion no one was expecting.

And that's all I’ve got. I have no idea where to go from here. I've said it before and I’m saying it again: I like world building and creating the roadmap to a story, but I'm not so hot at actually writing it out.

#teen wolf #buffy the vampire slayer #world building with rivienna #crossover fic idea #faith argent au #quarantine idea 1

1 note · View note

nadziejastar · 5 years

Text

Yen Sid's mirror: An image of you overcome by the power of darkness flows into your mind.

Oh, I suspect that there was probably some significance to both him and Riku getting Anti-Forms, even if only as a gameplay mechanic to prevent duplicates. They are both Seekers of Darkness, after all. Sora's ability to enter Anti-Form is due to his transformation into a Shadow. Anti-Form was made to represent the character’s shadow self, or their dark side. This doesn’t necessarily mean their “evil” side.

The “shadow” side of our personality, as Carl Jung called it, represents hidden or wounded aspects of ourselves, “the thing a person has no wish to be,” and acts in a complementary and often compensatory manner to our persona or public mask, “what oneself as well as others think one is.” So for Aqua, her shadow was all of her doubts, fears, and despair over being trapped in the Realm of Darkness. For Riku, it was his feelings of inferiority and jealousy of Sora. For Terra, it was feeling inadequate and unable to please Eraqus, then hatred and rage for Xehanort. Vanitas probably carries all of the negative feelings Ventus developed while he was being abused by Xehanort.

The ecstatic state of the berserker is the ecstatic state of Odin as Wod, the Furious, the Raging, the Possessed, the Inspired. It is a fire in the mind and the blood. But this is actually only one stage, and only one kind of unitary state. The other kind involves deafferentation of both parts of the oxaloacetate (OAA), resulting in an experience in which there is neither sense of self nor of anything else at all, even space or time. I call this ecstatic state the experience of Odin as Helblindi, the Hel-blind.

It is as if Odin is first met as Wod, and the blood burns, and the mind gets so whipped up it contains everything. And everything contains as many darknesses as lights, as many positives as negatives, as many healings as sickenings, it contains everything and its opposite, and so is self-canceling. A great darkness, like the deepest part of night, arises from within. The fire burns itself, and the ego, and the world out. As Hangatyr or as Vegtam Odin descends into Hel and there becomes Helblindi.

Anti-Saïx has yellow eyes, just like his berserk form, indicating that his shadow self is present there. For Isa, I think his darkness was of a different nature than the others. It was most likely tied to his berserk state, and it would be a darkness characterized by total oblivion. No ego, no self-awareness, no sense of anything.

Xehanort: But once again you have it all wrong, Eraqus. Darkness is a beginning, you see, not an end. At birth, every one of us emerges from darkness into a world of light, do we not?

It would be type of darkness you experience before you are born. That is to say, total nothingness. Therefore, it would have been very appropriate for him to get a “birth by sleep”.

Shadow Aqua had very personal anger and bitterness toward Mickey. Shadow Riku taunted Sora constantly. In the KH2 boss fight, Saïx’s facial expression in berserk mode was one of pure rage. He was a good representation of Odin the Wod. In KH3D, Saïx didn’t say a single word or show any expression on his face. I found it very strange that he was the one who had the most agency in KH3. He went behind Xemnas’s back to help Roxas and Xion, and he went to visit Lea and have a chat before the final battle. But this is in stark contrast to how he looked in the cutscenes of his final boss fight. He was the most “vessel-like” Seeker of Darkness, even though he supposedly joined of his own free will (yeah, right). He was more like Helblindi, the Hel-blind.

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making darkness conscious.” ---Carl Jung, Alchemical Studies

He was completely mute and expressionless, nothing like Shadow Aqua or Riku. Even when he was fighting, his expression never really changed. He looked completely blank. Even after Xemnas arrived, he just stood there like a mindless zombie. The only time that changed was when the camera zoomed in on his face as Xemnas attacked Lea. It looked like he was watching intently; like there was something stirring inside of him, causing him to slowly become more aware. I think this is the only time we actually got to see the REAL Isa in KH3. He probably became a Seeker of Darkness because he lost his sense of self in an adrenaline-fueled panic while trying to protect Lea, not because his heart was was filled with rage or hatred. And this is why he was so different compared to Saïx in KH2.

Sora and his friends encounter Riku on Captain Hook’s ship, where he reveals that he now has control over the Heartless. To prove it, he creates a Heartless replica of Sora before their eyes, and it throws them into the ship’s brig. As Sora fights his way back to the ship’s deck, he encounters many of these “Shadow Soras”, which only he can defeat. However, they have no weapons and often vanish before he can even attack them. Once Sora reaches the Captain’s Cabin, Riku creates a more complete replica of Sora, this one able to wield a shadowy Kingdom Key. After being defeated, it fades back into darkness.

Sadly, Anti-Forms are something I am sure were supposed to learn more about. Anti-Sora is described as Sora’s shadow but also a REPLICA of Sora, who can wield a shadowy Keyblade. That’s probably why Anti-Forms were chosen to prevent duplicate characters in Mission Mode. They literally are duplicates. Riku was probably able to create this replica out of Sora’s shadow because he had Xehanort’s Heartless inside of him.

Riku: That was my…my dark side. I gave in to the darkness once. And ever since, it’s chased me around in one form or another. The Seeker of Darkness who stole my body…a puppet replica of the shadows in my heart…and now, I’m facing me.

Ever since I first played KH3D, I thought the wording Riku used here was noteworthy. He called his other self a “puppet replica” of the shadows in his heart and a “Seeker of Darkness”. Maybe that’s what Replicas actually are---the shadow side of a person. The things Vexen created are probably just the containers to give them a physical form. Anti-Sora was like a dark mirror image of Sora. There probably was truth that the Seeker of Darkness Riku was not actually his Ansem-possessed self from the past, but Riku Replica. Not Riku Replica as this weird ghostly Riku that chats with him on the beach and who has the hots for Naminé. Riku Replica would be Riku’s shadow self. He thought he was the real one. Reminds me of Persona 4.

Day 7: Meaning

Author: Xemnas

A name defines an object. Describes the span of it. Gives it purpose. We embarked upon the Replica Program to ensure our new power stays ours. Now, our shadow puppet, “No. i,” lives. It needs a name. Something to define it. To give the hollow vessel purpose.

Xion is a Replica and was also called a “shadow puppet”, which I found interesting. If she was just a machine implanted with Sora’s memories, what makes her a “shadow” puppet? The last we saw of the Anti-Sora boss was when he just disappeared into the floor of Captain Hook’s ship. Perhaps Xion was actually just the shadow Sora that was extracted by Riku in Neverland, and somehow Xemnas was able to acquire it?

“It’s highly unusual for a Keyblade wielder to leave a Nobody in the first place,” said Xaldin. Seeing the glances converged on him, he voiced his doubts. “Doesn’t the very existence of his Nobody render our entire plan meaningless?”

“Still need insurance, though,” Xigbar remarked.

“The plan is already in motion,” Xemnas said, promptly ending any further discussion. The other six looked up toward him. “To keep this new power firmly in our grasp, we will proceed.”

Even before Roxas was born, the organization had plans to duplicate Sora’s powers using their “new power”, which is what Xemnas called Xion on Day 7. Roxas and Xion existing together was just “insurance”. So, apparently Xion didn’t need Roxas around to copy Sora’s powers. His presence just made it a lot easier.

“If that is what you want…” With those words, the man walked through them—straight through their bodies.

It was a strange sensation, being passed through. Sora grabbed his chest. And yet…it was something he’d felt before, somewhere…

“I just touched your memories. And I made this. To reunite with those you hold dear…this is what you will use.”

The man tossed something to Sora. It was a single card illustrated with a picture of a place he knew.

What Marluxia did in Castle Oblivion was the same thing Xemnas did when he battled Sora at Hollow Bastion in KH1FM+. He sampled his memories by walking through him.

“You remind me of him,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Sora demanded.

The man looked calmly down at him from beneath his hood. “It means you are not whole. You are incomplete. Allow me…to test your strength.” He seemed to glide over the ground instead of walk as he moved closer to Sora, and light erupted from his raised hand.

When Xemnas showed up in Hollow Bastion, he called Sora “incomplete”. The very next day after Sora fought Xemnas, Xion joined the organization. Xemnas also wanted Roxas and Xion to merge, so they would be “complete”.

“Sora…?”

The last glints of light in Kairi’s hands floated up and faded. Donald jumped up, trying to gather them back together. “Sora! Come back, Sora!”

What’s happening to me…? Falling…falling…into darkness……

This is the scene where Sora turns into a Heartless. And Sora is only able to enter his Anti-Form as a Drive Form due to turning into a Heartless.

The figure at the center of the room glanced up at him, and Roxas flinched at being caught staring. But though the hood kept the wearer’s eyes hidden, Roxas could see a smile. Something was so familiar about it, but he couldn’t think of where he would have seen it before. There were so many things he couldn’t remember about these last seven days. It hadn’t scared him before—but now it did a little.

Scared? What did it mean to be scared? The air trembled, and Roxas looked for the cause. Xemnas was vanishing into a swirl of darkness. The other members followed suit. Number 14 stayed, watching him. And then—Roxas fainted.

What’s happening to me…? Falling…falling…into darkness…

Roxas had been carried to his bed, and Xemnas gazed down at him. “…Don’t sleep too long.” Receiving no answer, the Organization’s leader left the small white room.

And this is the scene where Xion joins the Organization. It’s so similar. If you look closely, you can see that Anti-Sora was also smiling. I’m pretty sure Xion’s true nature was heavily tied to Sora’s Anti-Form.

“Ones born of the heart and darkness, devoid of hearts, ravage all worlds and bring desolation. Seize all hearts and consummate the great heart. All hearts to be one, one heart to encompass all. Realize the destiny: the realm of Kingdom Hearts. The great darkness sealed within the great heart. Progeny of darkness, come back to the eternal darkness. For the heart of light shall unseal the path. Seven hearts, one Keyhole, one key to the door. The door of darkness, tied by two keys. The door of darkness to seal the light. None shall pass but shadows, returning to the darkness. Ones born of the heart and darkness, hunger for every heart until the dark door opens.”

This is what the console device at the Hollow Bastion section of the End of the World said. It mentions the door of darkness, tied by two keys.

Aqua: Is that what you’re after?

Mickey: Yep, it’s just the key I was looking for. A Keyblade from the dark realm!

Aqua: A Keyblade of darkness.

Mickey: “The door of darkness…tied by two keys. The door of darkness…to seal the light.” Welp, we’ve got the keys. Now we find the ones to close the door.

Aqua: Sorry?

Mickey: The door between the two realms–it won’t let a heart with light pass through. So only darkness keeps spilling out. We can lock the door by using the two Keyblades, but we need help on both sides to get the door shut.

Mickey mentioned “two keys” as well in 0.2. This is all connected to the concept of light and dark Keyblades, which was obviously supposed to be important. I’m not even gonna pretend I have any idea where Nomura was going with all of that. All these games later and it’s STILL beyond my comprehension. That’s how many plot holes there are.

Roxas: Whoa! Xion, I didn’t know you could use the Keyblade.

Xion: Yeah…neither did I.

BUT. Day 25 is called “Two Keys”. This is the day Xion learns that she can use the Keyblade while fighting against a Darkside.

“Heh. What you see is indeed what you get,” Saïx said with a quiet, cryptic laugh. “It’s high time for you to get to work as well. You’ll be investigating a new world today.”

“On it.” No sooner had Axel acknowledged the order than he walked into the Corridors of Darkness.

Despite the name, the corridors were not completely dark—the light was thin and hazy, but it was there. Axel paused as Saïx’s words came back to him.

“What you see is indeed what you get…”

I always got the feeling that Saïx probably wasn’t simply seeing the hooded girl everyone else was seeing.

Saïx studied the two others. Become the person we see. Yes, Xion had such a power—transforming in response to the memories of those it encountered. But Saïx himself had only ever seen the blank void of Xion. Not just anyone’s memories would do.

In the novel, he referred to her as a “blank void”, which...doesn’t sound like what the others saw. Maybe Saïx was seeing Xion as something like the Robed Figure, which was incorporeal and needed to possess Riku to gain a physical form, and Anti-Sora when Riku first created him. They had blank faces.

Roxas had been gone for three days. So far, he had not been forgiven for leaving everything. Since Axel had helped Roxas leave, he had been suspended from duties, and had been spending the time idly inside the castle. Spending that time vague, and in doubt.

“How is your injury?”

“Injury?” Axel turned just his face to look at Saïx. “What are you talking about?”

He waited for an answer, but none came, Saïx as expressionless as always.

“An assembly will he held shortly,” Saïx announced.

“Guess th’ssembly’s bout that, then?” Axel said, his words coming out distorted, looking back up at the moon.

I don’t even want to know whether there’s something in my vague memories. Perhaps Roxas has already been erased?

Maybe Saïx had to be the one to bring Xion back because he was the only one who even remembered her, lol. This was three days after Roxas left, so Xion would have disappeared already. Axel didn’t remember her, but Saïx apparently did. I doubt this would be included if it wasn’t supposed to hint toward something. There sure are a lot of unsolved mysteries regarding Saïx.

#kh saix #kh #kh3 #kh xion #kh sora #kh theories #kh meta

15 notes · View notes

generousqueen21 · 6 years

Text

The Best of Both Worlds

A/N: Hey Guys!. Do you guys ever like listen to music and then have this whole music video thing in your head? Like you have an OC character in a movie to one of your favorite songs kicking butt or something? Tell me in the comments if you do cause I can not be the only one...Anyone, on a side note, tell me if you guys want me to write a series on this with Dick Grayson cause I got that in mind….the Fluff Princess is signing out!

Masterlist (still updating!)

Request something, or just send me a message to make my day! Everything is open.

Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: Forgetting who you are is bad, being shot at is worse, and being blown up is not good at all.

Word Count: 6,140 (heh)

A/N: Selina is inspired by the show Gotham, and is around 15,16.

Harley is inspired from the videogame Batman:Telltale - the whole attitude anyway, and some of the clothing and age.

Pam is inspired by the comics and the Arkham Knight video game - but way less sexualized, obviously.

You are inspired by you, of course. :)

Warnings: People get blown up, if that’s your thing.

Tags: Request if you wanna be tagged permanently!

@jasonsredhoodie

@writingtheworks

@queenayles

Chapter One: Gotham City Sirens

Gotham city harbor was one of the first off-limit zones for all the citizens of Gotham. It was one of the most deadly places in the whole city, full of drugs, guns, crime, and violence. With curfew around 8 p.m. and the docks overrun with corrupt politicians and gangs, no one hesitated to follow the bold “Keep Out” sign posted by one of the boathouses by the vast body of water. So of course, naturally you found yourself hanging off one of the docks there, clinging for your life.

Choking on water, you pulled yourself out, trying to hang on to the slippery, wet wooden boards keeping you above the freezing icy harbor. Shivering and chattering with the cold, you managed to wiggle your body onto the dock and lay down. You shuddered from the cold and attempted to sit up, laboriously breathing in the chilly sea air.

The glow of the moon was barely enough light to see yourself. Your arms and legs felt like they had been frozen numb with your left side feeling noticeably bulkier, and the fact that you had been able to pull yourself out of the water was practically a miracle.

“DIAGNOSTICS CHECK COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEMS STABILIZED.”

The text running through your vision was enough to make you finally completely alert. Glancing down at your arms and legs, your left being prosthetic, brought you one step closer to figuring out who you were.

Cyborg. Huh.

“A PERSON WHOSE PHYSIOLOGICAL FUNCTIONING IS AIDED BY OR DEPENDENT UPON A ELECT-”

You shook your head again, urging the text to disappear out of your vision. Trying to keep your heart calm, you took a shaky stand and observed the scene in front of you.

You didn’t quite remember who you were before, but you doubted that you had ever seen anything like this. The moon shone off the harbor, illuminating the hundreds of boats and vessels and stood waiting by the docks for use. Behind you, the street lights and brightness from the city lit up the sidewalks.

“GOTHAM CITY IS-”

Rubbing your eyes, you walked onto the street connected to the docks, attached to a dozen more dock containing vessels. The intense pain in your abdomen was enough to make you want to collapse again. Of all things, you knew you had to eat. But first, you needed a map.

You focused on calling up a map of the harboring, calming a little when it popped up into your retina, satisfied. Though the street was dark, you carried on, determined not to starve to death the way you had almost drowned. It was one of the many things you would regret, as well as learn.

Selina cursed, propping her legs up onto the dashboard and pulling at her tight black outfit. She wished Harley would hurry up and start the heater up again already. When was the last time anyone had listened to her?

Pamela Isley, a.k.a Poison Ivy groaned. “Is Harley coming yet or not? Last time we took this long, my babies almost wilted!”

Rolling her eyes, Selina turned around to deadpan the pouting lady. “Yeah, and if we don’t grab this cash, your “babies” won’t have anywhere to live.”

The car finally unlocked, and Harley, a.k.a Harley Quinn, slipped into the driver’s seat. “Yup! Clear as a crystal. Y'all ready to go?”

Selina took a deep breath, before facing them both with her don't-mess-this-up face. “Ok, listen up. I don’t care that I’m younger than both of you. I’m leading this, and we’re in and out got it? This is Falcone’s men. Just grab the cash they collected from the Falcone’s guns, alright? We don’t want anyone dead, or else everyone will fight over the insurance.”

Pam scowled. “I thought none of us had insurance.” Harley started giggling until it died into a smile with the look Selina gave her.

Selina continued. “I’m serious. We mess this up,” she stressed, looking at Pam, “ I have no promises what will end up of your plants.” Pam shivered and glared at both of them.

Harley rolled her eyes. “We got this, puddin’.” She reached over in concentration, searching for the button to pop open the trunk, grinning when she finally hit it. The back of the trunk opened up, leaving no time to waste. “Got it! Let’s hustle!”

The women all walked around to the back of the car, slamming doors as quietly as they could to grab their weapon of choice. Selina slapped her whip on the ground, flicking her wrist to stretch it out as Harley grabbed a mega-mallet and twirled it like a baton.

Pamela threw her hands in the air and pulled on one of Harley’s pigtails. “Come on, we don’t have all day!” The three of them crept into the darkness, squinted to be led by the dim light of the city.

Rummaging around in one of the large crates left overnight by the harbor, you failed to find anything edible that could cure your hunger. Your stomach was still continuing to twist and turn, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you passed out. With having searched nearly every crate at this dock, you walked back into the street, tensing when you heard some car doors slamming closed. There was no one you could see, but you were sure your ears weren’t playing tricks on you.

You could not get caught. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, someone finding you was not going to end well at all. You picked up the pace, jogging to the next dock and running onto one of the steamboat vessels.

You ducked behind a crate, peeking over the edge of the box. Barely in your limited line of vision, you managed to make out some shadowy figures walking onto the dock across from you. If you could see them, they would definitely see you if you made a run for it. There was no food you could find. And at that moment, a bullet whizzed by your ear, implanting itself into the mast behind you.

You were caught.

“Hey! We got a little girl on deck!”

A man grabbed onto your ponytail, causing you to gasp from shock sharply. Your whole body had gone numb, but not from the cold. As you flailed your arms to struggle, the man covered your mouth with a rag, muffling your sounds. You managed to knee the man and try and make a run for it, but not before you noticed the number of friends he had. There were at least 15 men on board. The man who had grabbed you ponytail pushed you down, causing to slip and skid down on the deck. Another man slammed his food onto the ground, barely your face. As you struggled to get up, you were pulled up aggressively with your hands suddenly tied behind your back. You barely got a chance to cry out before you mouth was completely stuffed and tied with a rag. You didn’t get far before you were carried into a dark room.

“Falcone men,” Selina whispered, pointing her finger as subtlely as possible. Harley cocked her head.”This many? This must be the big bucks.” Harley squinted further until Pam had to pull her back before she blew her cover. “No wait, do you see that? There’s someone else on there too.” Selina whipped her head toward the boat frantically.

“Who, Bane? Was that who the gunshot was for?” Pam’s jaw dropped. “No, a little girl. She looks young. Like, really young.” She leaned over, enough to make Harley give Selina a look. Selina rolled her eyes and took a glance, sure enough, finding the girl.

Selina winced when the rag was pulled over the girl's mouth. When her mother had first abandoned her at a young age, she had been lost and alone in Gotham too. And Pam had lost her parents and lived in the Narrows as well. No one had helped them, and she didn’t know anyone who could, but then again…

Selina cringed, and stood up, tightening her grip on her whip. Pam looked her at her, confused.

Harley tugged at Selina’s suit, urging her to get down. “It’s not time to go yet,” she whispered.

Selina took a deep breath, bracing herself. “We need to help her.” Pam briefly nodded, while Harley pouted, crossing her arms.

“Harley, come on.” Selina hissed, throwing her arm aggressively to show her the situation. “This isn’t the time to argue.”

Now Harley was pissed, frustration clear on her face. “Mr.J may not hurt you, but last time we missed grabbing the bags of cash from those knuckleheads, he beat me and threw me out the window!” With a great fury, Harley grabbed her mallet at stalked out onto the street.

Pam and Selina sprinted into the street, watching her head onto the dock and talk her noggin of about how she was going to smash “Falcone to bits.” The situation was not unraveling well, but at least Harley now had somewhere to channel her anger.

The room the men had thrown you in was not only dark but was airtight. You didn’t know where the door was, and you certainly didn’t know how to do a web search in your head. Out of the sudden silence, you heard an angry scream and more gunshots ringing. You froze, shaking out of hunger and fear. Was anyone coming?

When Selina and Pam finally arrived at the boat just moments later, they were quite disturbed to find at least half the men down on the ground bleeding, and Harley swinging her mallet around in a circle, knocking anyone out who forgot to duck.

“I got these men on the left.” Pam pointed, motioning for Selina to take the other side.

Selina crouched in position and snapped her hands outward, shoving the first’s gun out of the thug's hand and slamming her knee into his stomach as hard as she could. Two shots rang out in quick succession beside her face. The ringing in her ear caused her to lean to left, knocking down the thug and giving her enough time to catch her balance. The cold rush of the wind whipped her face, making Selina more alert than ever.

Pamela wasn’t struggling much either. Without the guns, the thugs were pretty much pathetic and could barely use their hands to throw an actual right hook. Taking out these guys wasn’t much of a problem. She had managed to make a large quantity of seaweed grow right out of the ocean, and they were currently strangling the men like tentacles.

When Pam and Selina could both confidently say that the men were knocked out, they weren’t surprised to see Harley cockily waiting with her hands on her hips.

“Come on guys - Pammy, you too? What took so long?” Harley cooed, twirling her mallet in her hand like a baton. “You gotta learn from the best.” Pam and Selina shot each other a look as Harley burst into uncontrollable giggles. A realization came to Selina, and she smacked her forehead with her sudden awareness. “Oh shoot - the girl!”

Pam’s eyes widened for what seemed the hundredth time that day, and the three villains were set into a frantic mess trying to decipher anything left behind. The salty air and sharp biting of the bitter cold worried Selina even more, with the hopes that the girl hadn’t gone unconscious with the weather and gotten frostbite.

You slipped in and out of consciousness, willing yourself to stay awake. Somehow with the room feeling like a freezer, your whole body’s fatigue was enough to pull you down into a deep slumber. The quiet wasn’t helping you much either. Ironically, if you hadn’t been locked in a room that felt like it was located in the Himalayas, you might feel at peace.

Groaning, you tried to wiggle around in the uncomfortable position you were in. Your bottom had gone entirely numb, and the rest of your limbs were screaming for a good stretch. The room, still with little to no light, wasn’t much to look at - just a pile of empty crates that had already been scavenged by the rest of the men, who, by the sound of it, were probably dead.

BANG!

You jumped, wincing when you landed on your tingling backside that was stinging with pins and needles. The gunshots had died ages ago...how was there anyone on board?

“Hey, darlin’! Is there anyone in here?” Through the crack at the bottom of the door, you heard a high pitched voice of a woman shouting out nearby.

“Harley! Just knock the door down!” A younger woman, maybe around 17 scolded. “She’s probably suffocating or freezing to death if she’s in there.”

“Maybe Pammy’s plants can check if she’s alright,” the woman Harley. You could practically hear the other lady Pammy rolling her eyes. “Harley, my baby’s don’t have eyes, girlfriend.”

The other woman growled, stomping her foot. “Harley!”

“Alright, I’m doin’ it!”

Pammy spoke to you quickly in as composed of a voice as she could muster. “All right, sweetheart, now you’ll want to back up a little-”

Your whole body went into panic mode with the recognition that the door was not going to be opened with a handle. You desperately threw your body to the side the best you could with your hands and legs tied, and braced for -

“Comin’ through!”

Harley’s mallet swung through the wood door, smashing a hole right in the center. Almost immediately your lungs began soaking in the fresh harbor air; never had oxygen been this sweet.

The mallet swung a second time, this one closer to the handle. Through the faint light, you made a gloved hand reached out to unlock the door from the inside. You finally released the tension from your neck with the relief that you were going to be saved.

The door finally swung open.

“Oh, god.” A woman with big flowing red hair and thick green eyeliner walked toward you, genuinely concerned. “She’s only a little girl!” Her outfit was on the unconventional side; with a green bathing suit type one piece covered in green leaves and a lighter green pair of tights underneath. The younger girl next to her work a tight black suit, goggles and cat ears, and carried a thick whip. She was glaring at the craziest look one of them all, who was the one called Harley. “Harley” sported pigtails, dyed black and red, and had on a black leather jacket over a black and red corset. Her black and red diamond belt and boots weren’t even the highlight of it all. In her hand, she carried a massive sledgehammer signed with a creepy smile of a red spray paint can.

Selina walked up to you cautiously, hesitantly, and forced herself to reach her hand out to you.

Oh, god indeed. You looked and were barely 6.

Pam began gently untieing the rags around your mouth as Selina started hacking at the rope around your wrists. Her initial shock was even more overwhelming than before. The quick glance and fast thinking she had done had barely told her anything about you, and one of those things that she had left to her imagination was her age. Terrifyingly enough, she was very, very off. Even when she and Pam had been younger, they had known never to try and steal from somewhere as full of gangs as the harbor. Things being sold off the black market were constantly circulating here, and though the money stakes were huge, the chance of surviving was not.

Pam and Selina both lifted you by your arms, dusting your wet clothes off the best they could. Weakly, you tried to stand up and rubbed your raw wrists. Stammering, you spoke as loud as you could. “Th-han-k you-u.” Finally, both Selina and Pam could hold back all the questions that had been floating around in their heads any longer.

“How old are you?” “What’s your name?” “What are you doing here?” “How did they catch you!?”

Harley looked at you for a while, before turning to Selina and talking fast. “Selina, we have to-”

Selina rolled her eyes and shot Harley a look. “Not now, Harley. We have to get her somewhere warm.”

Harley was no longer just sheepish; she was talking with full-on panic. “Selina, I may have-”

Selina continued to glare at Harley while trying to wring out and dry your wet clothes, in the hope you might feel less cold.

Pam came back looking very, very scared. “Love, you’re not going to like this.” Selina looked at the shiny-eyed woman and sighed.

“What is it, Pam?” Selina inquired while rubbing her temples. This was just not her day.

Harley hissed, scowling with a warning written onto her face.”What I’ve been trying to tell you, dimwit! When I headed over there poundin’ their heads all the way to the moon, one of them guys had a walkie on them! They got an’ emergency bomb on here somewhere, and Falcone has the detonator, and more men on the way.” Harley huffed, and plopped herself against the wall and passed her sledgehammer from hand to hand, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Pam nodded at Selina with worried eyes, confirming the worsening of the whole situation.

Selina turned frantically with her head pounding and put her hand on Harley’s shoulder. “How long ago was this?”

Harley shrugged, tugging on one of her pigtails in deep thought. “Maybe….15 minutes ago?”

Selina cursed, yanking her hand back like she’d been burned. Never had a mission gone more wrong.

But never had she ever done something this right.

Selina glanced at you one last time. You had collapsed on the floor again with your teeth chattering with the cold. Your metal prosthetics felt like ice cubes, and your retina censor had already told you several times that your body temperature had dropped significantly. You looked back at her, your eyes full of more fear and hope that she had seen when they had first gotten to you.

Selina shifted back to the others with determination and a fierce desire to survive with no one left behind. “We are not getting caught in here and slaughtered like pigs, alright? We are all getting out here alive.” Selina settled her hand on Pam’s shoulder and looked intensely into her eyes with great confidence. “Pam, I need you and Harley to secure the area. We need to escape as discreetly as possible without any bumps.” Pam nodded, but Harley had already popped her head out.

“Selina, what color did you say his cars were again?” You and the others had already been able to pick out the sounds of two vehicles, with the door slamming audibly.

Selina’s eyes widened with Pam gaping behind her. “Falcone has the detonator. And if he’s here -”

“He could explode this whole dock.” Harley finished quite grimly, with her grip on her weapon so tight, her knuckles were going pale.

THUD!

Everyone in the room jumped as the distant footsteps were getting closer and closer. The thudding was now so close the nearby wooden boards of the ship were creaking.

Harley rushed back to your side and pushed you toward Selina. “Selina, go and hide! Me an’ Pam will teach these bad boys a lesson.”

Taking their positions, Pam and Harley stood on either side of the broken door, prepared to attack at the right moment. Selina grabbed your shoulder and ushered you to the other side of the room, gently pulling you down into an uncomfortable crouch. You tried your best to be ready to sprint, trying to calm the buzzing in your chest and how heavy your head felt with fear.

A deep raspy voice broke the heavy silence. “Hey boss, we got like 14, 15 men unconscious down here. You on your way?” A quieter “Roger that,” could be heard out of walkie talkie the man on board was holding. The footsteps began up again, getting farther and closer. Harley took a stance, raising her mallet a hair too high and - Bam.

The footsteps stopped. “Hey, whos there? I already heard you! Don’t even try and hide! You’ll be a dead son of a bitch!” Frantic pacing could be heard, with crates being thrown and opened. Everyone in the room winced and gave Harley a look the could have burned her to death if Selina and Pam had tried. Pam shook her head and glanced at Harley, ready to strike. “Are you good?” Harley with a nervous look on her face gave an embarrassed sigh. “Yup.”

The man, 5 ft 8, all bark and no bite, entered in, a pistol clear in his hand.

Before you could register another thought, Pam grabbed the man’s tacky suit by the lapels and swung him around, smashing his head into the wall. He groaned and lost grasp of the gun, which skidded across the room after hitting the wall. Harley rapidly brought down her sledgehammer on the back of his head, registering him unconscious and very injured. Pam finally let go of him, and he slumped to the ground on his back with a big bruise on his forehead and a nasty nosebleed.

Selina crouched down and picked the gun up off the floor, ready to empty the barrel, but Harley grabbed it out of her hand and complained.

“He didn’t even use any of the bullets!”

Selina scowled and tried to make a lunge at the pistol, but with Harley wearing massive boots and already quite taller than Selina, keeping out of reach wasn’t really a challenge. “Let the little girl use it.”

Selina groaned, before dropping her head in her hands. “The little girl is maybe what, 5? No one gives a kindergartener a gun, not even a psychopath.” Harley grimaced and put her hand back down to her side. “Hey, sociopath, remember? They’re different.”

Selina made a mocking face back before Pam screamed, “Take cover!”

A dozen gunshots came through the hole in the door, getting Harley in the shoulder and Pam in the arm. Selina grabbed a cover of one of the wooden crates and pulled you behind her. Selina turned her head to look at you and tried to give as much comforting advice as possible. With no parents to raise her properly, emotional support was not her strong suit, but it wasn’t like the others were good at it either.

“Try to stay behind me, ok? We are going to get you through this!” Another round of gunshots fired, and the men started flooding the room.

The exit was flooded, and at least 5 men had entered. You all had to act fast before even more backup showed up.

Harley began to swing her sledgehammer around, knocking out the guns to the best of her ability, Without a military weapon, they were all just pawns in Falcone’s chessboard, strong in numbers but powerless without firearms. Pam began using her plants and foliage to wrap around some of the men's legs and render them unable to move. However, some of the men were still able to shoot, and one even managed to get out of his bounds, ready to attack. Pam had her hands raised and surging her energy into her plants to control them. Her face was scrunched in concentration, and she motioned to Selina to finish the gunmen off.

Selina took her whip and wrapped the end around the man’s legs, pulling them out under him. He yelped and slipped with his weapon thrown into the air. Harley caught is and began firing at the all the men that were trapped in Pam’s vines.

The whole room was the definition of a bloodbath: there was dried red stains on the wall and on the floor, the crates were covered in bullets, and Harley and Pam needed immediate attention.

Selina didn’t need to think twice. “Let’s get out of here!” You followed the others lead and sprinted out the main room, carefully walking over the blood and bodies scattered throughout the floor. You glanced back at the mess they had created. The ends of your lips twitched, and your eyes brightened ever so slightly. You hadn’t known then, but Selina had seen the look.

Sweet, sweet revenge..

“Halt!”

Harley with Pam right behind her turned around, and Harley screamed with fury. You followed their gazes to the top of the ship, right above the room you all had been in at the top of the vessel. There, in all his former glory, was the tux-wearing, backstabbing criminal himself.

Falcone.

“I doubted girls like you could make much trouble. This kind, anyway,” he cackled, a disgusting glint visible in his eye. He sighed solemnly, clearly enjoying himself. “But now that you ladies have already stolen from me, twice, alas, you all must pay the price.” He wiggled a round, oval-shaped device in his hand, chuckling louder and louder.

The wind had picked up speed now, whipping around dramatically and increasing the tension. Selina began screaming and swearing at him hoarsely, barely hiding the explicit impediment in her voice. “You would never do that, you coward! You would never kill yourself here for revenge!”

Falcone rolled his eyes, beaming with mirth and throwing his hands up in the air, aware of what a drama queen he was. He was loving the suspense of the situation. “Oh, who said I was? I’ll be watching from one of my hundred’s of helicopters, seeing your world turn into ash and flames!”

Selina wasn’t ready to give up, continuing to stall him and running every possible option through her head. “And your money? You get a couple million from your weapons on the black market alone! And they flow through this port!” He had his back on you now and waved his hand at her comment. “I’ll find another one!” He looked up to the sky, ready to leave. The detonator was still resting in his hand.

The helicopter had already arrived, and the bright lights blinded you and the others. You lifted your arm and squinted, trying to see where the bastard had gone, but it was too late. He had already sat himself quite comfortably inside his copter.

Harley shrieked at the top of her lungs, not even waiting for any of you to react. “RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!”

Sprinting at full speed, enough to bring the aching in your legs to burning and make you forget about the cold, the only thing you could think of was getting out. Though you were with the others, you were on your own now. This was your fight, and you were going to get the hell out. Your life was in your hands now. You had needed Selina, Pam, and Harley. Now they needed you.

The situation had turned into complete chaos, with multiple possibilities and outcomes, and your minds were racing too much to accurately compare them all. Thinking of Falcone made his bio appear across your screen, and you quickly skimmed the general public appearances and criminal charges he had faced along the way. Carmine Falcone, if his reputation said anything, was not a risky man. His multi-million dollar empire was built upon careful preparation and executing all the right moves at the right times. Falcone was an aged man had been around Gotham for quite some time, and the majority of the rules of crime had been invented by him. Getting out logically was going to be critical and complex, but learning about the tech in your body could help.

Charging toward Harley's red car, you four yanked the door's open and slammed them hard.

"Harley, start the engine!" Selina jumped into the front passenger seat and began to roll down the windows, peeking outside for any possible new signs of danger. Harley patted her leather jacket down rapidly, feeling for her keys and finally finding them in her right-hand pocket. Her hands shaking, she tried to put in the key 3 times before succeeding and stepped on the accelerator.

"Damn, damn, damn!" The car barely lurched forward, and instead slugging back in forth in the same position. Pam opened the car door, checking the vehicle overall and let out a cry of pain and impediment. She leaned back, looking furious and deep down, just plain failed.

"Someone popped the tires!" Selina screamed and slammed her hands down on the dashboard.

"That little son of a bitch..." She groaned and put her head in her hands, utterly devastated. Finally, she looked up and sighed. Falcone had already sent for more men, and you could hear the cars approaching fast, whizzing along the streets of Gotham.

Thinking fast, you leaned forward between the passenger and driver seat. Harley and Selina glanced back at you, ready to listen.

"Falcone sent more cars with men in them - if we knock enough out," you continued, "We'll be able to find our getaway car quick enough." Harley looked doubtfully at you as Selina shook her head. "Falcone wouldn't care about losing those men. The minute he sees us stealing one of his Bugattis, he'll blow the port up."

The car doors began opening and shutting closed. Backup was already here, and you had 360 seconds to show your plan could work.

"Go!" You yelled getting out of the car. The gun Harley had kept was nestled into your palm, almost fitting perfectly.

Your goal was simple: shoot someone tonight. Just one person.

Pam's powers were simple but effective; the second she managed to wound someone with her hands, their whole body would become infected with her toxin. The victim would start shaking, turning green and in the end, would die with a little plant growing out of their mouths. It was indeed something else. Selina's eyes were open in horror as she became suspended with shock, but she didn't get a moment to respond before Harley jumped in front of her and smashed the man about to shoot Selina in the shin.

"Selina, wake up! You're gonna get yourself killed!" Harley criticized, not wasting a moment and swung her mallet into another man's face, causing him to scream in agony and double over.

Within all the chaos, the sirens didn't get a chance to check on you, but you were busy with something else as well.

You crept up on one of the closer vehicles, hiding behind the trunk. You eyed how the other's were doing and winced at their state. Harley and Pam were bleeding openly and needed immediate attention, and Selina was corned by at least five men with her whip on the ground ten feet away from her. There was no time to lose.

You slid along the side of the car, keeping your back as close as possible to stay out of site. The guy inside was smoking a cigar, muttering to himself about his paycheck. Automatically, your retina began to scan the front seat of the car.

"FIREARM DETECTED: POSITIVE."

Through the car, your scanner highlighted the weapon in blue and could be shown in the man's holster on his left side. Your retina then began to map out possible actions, displaying the best approach to getting this man out without getting hurt. One of them demonstrated a viable plan to attack by shooting through the window.

You glanced down at your gun and waited for your retina to explain how to use it. You began holding the rifle in a firm stance and turned the safety off. Regrettably, the guy in the car had noticed.

"Hey, Hey! What the-" The man in the car had grown extremely annoyed. You backed away from the vehicle, nearly tripping backward and he opened the car door abruptly. He grabbed the gun out of his holster pointing it at you, pulling the trigger.

You screamed, lifting your arm to cover your face, and felt a sudden impact hit your arm. You winced, waiting for the pain, but there was none.

"Oh my god..." The man spoke in shock, glancing at his gun. He had only one bullet for emergency purposes, and it had done nothing. He was just the driver, for god's sake.

You inspected your arms, thoughtfully perplexed. He hadn't fired a blank as you had felt the impact. As you glanced at your prosthetic arm, your jaw dropped.

The bullet was scarcely caught in the metal.

You removed the warm bullet and felt the place on your arm where the bullet had hit, which was a flat dent. Whoever had designed or picked out this arm for you must have known you could have been shot at, which made you wonder even more.

How important were you? Who had you been?

You hardly noticed the man running off your his life so lost in your thoughts. You crouched over rapidly grabbing the gun you had dropped, which now felt awkward heavy in your hand, and pointed the weapon, slipping your finger over the trigger. You weren't even sure where to aim. His chest? Maybe his heart.

Could you do it? The fact that you were even thinking to spare him was making you furious, and you were drowning in hatred for him and all the other's who had hurt you and Selina, Pam and Harley today. You put your finger on the trigger and pointed

and pointed

and pointed.

You repeatedly told yourself to draw the trigger and grew even more infuriated when you couldn't remember your own name. Seconds, maybe minutes later when Harley came over, you were still ordering yourself to pull it.

"Kid, give me that!" Harley snatched the gun out of your hand as you startled and pointed it on her. She barely let you respond and shot the man in the back of the head. You were shuddering as Pam grabbed the keys out of his back pocket and chucked it at Harley, who hopped into the driver seat and started up the engine. Selina was walking over now, concerned with how disappointed you looked to now have shot that gun yourself. Crouching down, she took your hand and looked into your eyes.

"You don't want to ever go down that path," she pleaded, shaking her head with a sigh. "I know what it does to people. What you did today was the right thing."

You bit your lip and nodding, sat inside the car in the back. You had to, though. It was the only way to win in this world. These men, they were on top because they weren't scared to be on that path, and you felt as if that was the only way this would never happen again.

"Step on it, Harley. Falcone's got his eye on us," Pam warned, sitting in the front passenger seat and began to moan. "My babies! Oh, I knew I shouldn't have brought them into this mess!"

"Hey, will you shut it, Pammy?" Harley ridiculed, rolling her eyes and began to drive, picking up the speed until the car was past 80 miles per hour.

Selina leaned between the front two seats and elbowed Harley. "Hey, do you want to die AND get a ticket, for both speeding and to Arkham?"

Harley giggled, slowing down to 75 mph. "I got this puddin' you don't worry about a -."

A flash of light lit up the whole harbor and shook the road. You flew up in your seat, banging your head on the ceiling and wincing, glanced back at the terror behind you. Falcone had done it. He had pushed the button but missed. A jittery feeling began to overwhelm your body as all the cars left on the road, including Harley's red BMW, had already erupted in flames. You shivered, looking at all the fire and heat and how the men must have burned in the flames and -

Suddenly, you remembered. Watching the pieces of ash and clothing floating and drifting through the air, you began to recall why you had lost your arm, remembering a room. You remebered ashes floating, mentally relived the searing heat on the left side of your body. You tried to concentrate and bring more back, but the fire was the only thing able to trigger the memory.

There was no time to dwell on it now. With the other's fist bumping and cheering, you smiled for the first time that night, and you looked back into the depths of the harbor. A feeling of satisfaction came over you as you watched all these men burn in turmoil. You had finally gotten the revenge you wanted. And the next time anyone came for you?

Well, Karma's a bitch.

39 notes · View notes

orbemnews · 3 years

Link

Michael Collins, Apollo 11 astronaut, has died at age 90 “We regret to share that our beloved father and grandfather passed away today, after a valiant battle with cancer,” the statement read. “He spent his final days peacefully, with his family by his side. Mike always faced the challenges of life with grace and humility, and faced this, his final challenge, in the same way. We will miss him terribly. Yet we also know how lucky Mike felt to have lived the life he did. We will honor his wish for us to celebrate, not mourn, that life. Please join us in fondly and joyfully remembering his sharp wit, his quiet sense of purpose, and his wise perspective, gained both from looking back at Earth from the vantage of space and gazing across calm waters from the deck of his fishing boat. Our family asks for privacy during this difficult time. Details on services will be forthcoming.” NASA, where Collins spent seven years of his career as an astronaut, also released a statement about Collins’ passing. “Today the nation lost a true pioneer and lifelong advocate for exploration in astronaut Michael Collins,” said acting NASA Administrator Steve Jurczyk in a statement. “As pilot of the Apollo 11 command module — some called him ‘the loneliest man in history’ — while his colleagues walked on the Moon for the first time, he helped our nation achieve a defining milestone. He also distinguished himself in the Gemini Program and as an Air Force pilot. “Michael remained a tireless promoter of space. ‘Exploration is not a choice, really, it’s an imperative,’ he said. Intensely thoughtful about his experience in orbit, he added, ‘What would be worth recording is what kind of civilization we Earthlings created and whether or not we ventured out into other parts of the galaxy.’ “His own signature accomplishments, his writings about his experiences, and his leadership of the National Air and Space Museum helped gain wide exposure for the work of all the men and women who have helped our nation push itself to greatness in aviation and space. There is no doubt he inspired a new generation of scientists, engineers, test pilots, and astronauts. “NASA mourns the loss of this accomplished pilot and astronaut, a friend of all who seek to push the envelope of human potential. Whether his work was behind the scenes or on full view, his legacy will always be as one of the leaders who took America’s first steps into the cosmos. And his spirit will go with us as we venture toward farther horizons.” Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, former NASA astronaut and lunar module pilot of the Apollo 11 mission, shared his sadness at Collins’ passing. “Dear Mike, Wherever you have been or will be, you will always have the Fire to Carry us deftly to new heights and to the future. We will miss you. May you Rest In Peace. #Apollo11,” Aldrin wrote on Facebook. Collins was born in Italy, became an Air Force pilot, then an astronaut in the Gemini program. He was the third American to perform a spacewalk, according to NASA. Including the Apollo 11 mission, Collins logged 266 hours in space, NASA said. In 2019, Collins sat down with CNN Chief Medical Correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta to reflect on the 50th anniversary of the historic Apollo 11 mission. Collins reminisced about looking up a the sky as a child, seeing “the most marvelous things up there” and wanting to know more about them, he told Gupta. That’s when he knew that he wanted to fly. Becoming an astronaut Collins came from a military family. His father and brother were US Army generals, and his uncle was the Army chief of staff. He decided to “sneak off” to the US Air Force instead. In 1961, Collins was a student at the US Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base in California. That year, President John F. Kennedy said that the United States would put a man on the moon by the end of the decade and return him safely to Earth, Collins remembered vividly. Collins and about 80% of his peers were “gung-ho,” he recalled. NASA and the idea of the Mercury and Gemini programs, which set up for the Apollo program, were attractive, and the space program seemed like a promotion. The other 20% would rather fly and test new airplanes for the Air Force rather than getting “locked up in a capsule and shot off like a round of ammunition,” Collins said. Collins, a fighter pilot for four years, graduated flight school at age 22. He “flunked out” the first time he applied to the space program. He says there are 15 or 20 reasons why he might have flunked, but he likes to tell the story of the famed Rorschach inkblots mishap during his psychiatric exam. “I leafed through a whole series of them, and then the last one was a blank sheet of paper, pure white, 8 by 10,” he said. ” ‘Here, so what do you see?’ they asked. I say, ‘well, of course that’s eleven polar bears fornicating in a snowbank.’ And I could see the examiner’s eyes kind of tighten. He didn’t think that was funny. He didn’t like people making light of his card set. Anyway, for whatever reason, I flunked. The next year, (in the inkblot) I saw my mother and my father, and my father was slightly larger and more authoritarian but not too much more than my mother, and I passed.” Collins was selected as part of the third class of astronauts in 1963. His first mission was Gemini 10. His second was Apollo 11. The six years between 1963 and 1969 flew by. Collins and his fellow astronauts worked hard, rising early and neglecting breaks on the weekends. They rarely saw their families and flew from coast to coast, visiting facilities where parts of the spacecraft were being manufactured. They attended classes to learn everything about the spacecraft they would be flying and spent countless hours in simulators that replicated their missions to conquer every possible error. Physical fitness was not one of the NASA requirements, Collins said. The astronauts had an initial thorough exam before they were accepted into the program, testing their senses and capabilities. But after that, physical fitness was up to the individual to maintain. “We had an annual physical exam that we had to pass, and it was an extremely rigorous exam. They would assign two flight surgeons to one of us, and one would look in this ear, and one would look in that ear. If they didn’t see each other, you passed,” he joked. “That was the physical exam that NASA offered us, and they required us to really do whatever we felt like we should be doing in terms of our own conditioning.” At the time, one of the requirements to become an astronaut was graduation from an accredited test pilot school. Test pilots were used to mental stress and physical danger, so Collins believes that NASA was more focused on other aspects. The agency’s priority was making sure that the astronauts could operate a complex machine that would be going a quarter of a million miles from Earth for the first time. Apollo 11 Collins learned that he would join Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong on Apollo 11 during a call from Deke Slayton, whose résumé included World War II pilot, test pilot, one of the original Mercury Seven astronauts and NASA’s first chief of the Astronaut Office and director of Flight Crew Operations. He put the crews together and was “sort of one of those unsung behind-the-scenes heroes,” Collins said. “He was a wonderful, wonderful boss.” Slayton called Collins and asked, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” “Oh, absolutely!” Collins replied. “You better believe!” Kennedy’s wish loomed large in Collins’ mind. Then 39, he felt the astronauts carried the weight of the world. He didn’t talk about the dangers of spaceflight with his wife, Pat. “We talked about superficialities and maybe alluded to those serious difficulties that a space flight entails,” Collins recalled. “We’d nibble all around the edges of the danger involved.” Launch day on July 16, 1969, arrived quickly. The three astronauts got out of their vehicle at the base of a tower that went 365 feet into the air. An elevator took them up to their command module, Columbia. Everything had to be “all neat and apple pie” before they could board. Collins looked to his left and saw a clear ocean. On his right was “the most gigantic pile of complex machinery you’ve ever seen.” “And I can remember thinking ‘ooh, I think I’d rather look at the simple one rather than that complicated one. Maybe that’s too complicated for me over there.’ ” The men knew that the chances of it failing somewhere along the line were relatively high, but they were optimistic about surviving, Collins said. After that, the mission unfolded in a series of imperative events. “I liken it to a daisy chain, long and very fragile daisy chain,” Collins said. “It emanates from Cape Canaveral, and then it goes out into space and around the moon and circles it back in. And it’s got all these links in it, and if one link fails, well, all the rest downstream are useless. So for eight days, to and from, there was always one thing coming up, the next big event which could ruin you, be the end of you. That was how it worked.” While Aldrin and Armstrong separated from Columbia in the lunar lander, the Eagle, to land on the moon, Collins kept circling the moon. Once Armstrong and Aldrin were finished, he would rendezvous and dock with the Eagle after it left the lunar surface. That maneuver was the one they had prepared for most during training on Earth. Collins had a 8-by-10 notebook with 18 scenarios around his neck. It went perfectly. Collins was often called “the loneliest man” once he returned to Earth, but he didn’t feel that way — even when he lost contact with Mission Control during his flybys on the far side of the moon. While Armstrong and Aldrin were busy landing, setting up experiments and collecting samples from the lunar surface, Collins had to keep all of the subsystems running on Columbia by himself. “It was a happy home. I liked Columbia,” he said. “It reminded me, in a way, of almost like a church or a cathedral. It had the apse, the three couches, and then you went down into where the altar was. That was the guidance and navigation system. And it was laid out almost like a cathedral. And I had hot coffee. I had music I could play if I wanted to. I had people to talk to on the radio, sometimes too many people talking too much on the radio. So I enjoyed that interlude. Being by myself in a machine up in the air somewhere was not unknown to me, and so everything was working well within Columbia, and I enjoyed it.” When the three men were reunited after the docking, Collins wanted to celebrate with Aldrin and Armstrong. But they had mission items to tend to. The daisy chain wouldn’t be complete until they landed safely on Earth. “I remember I was going to grab Buzz by the shoulders and kiss him on the forehead, and then I decided, ‘No, that’s just not right.’ So I don’t know. I shook his hand or patted him or something. And Neil, I didn’t even bother touching Neil when he came through. That was it. We didn’t say ‘oh, you have landed on another planet’ or anything like that.” Although Collins did look for the little bit of cognac he thought they had stowed away, he never found it. After the successful Apollo 11 flight, Collins saw another side of Armstrong as the three astronauts embarked on a trip around the world to talk about their experiences. Armstrong was their spokesman. “He was just amazing,” Collins recalled. “He’d delve into the background of this thing and that, and wherever we went, he’d pick out details that appealed to the local population, and you could see by the time he got through his little introductory speech, they almost felt like they were crawling on board with us. “It was just an amazing feat, and I think he’s often overlooked in a way. First Man — he’s not overlooked. But what people maybe don’t know about First Man was that First Man was one marvelous proponent of the virtues of the United States and spread those all over the globe.” The three men didn’t remain in close touch afterward, mainly because Collins lived in Washington, Armstrong lived in Ohio and Aldrin moved around. It wasn’t easy to get together. But they had shared in something wonderful and fulfilled Kennedy’s mandate. Life after Apollo Apollo 11 was the proudest moment of Collins’ life. He may not have had the best seat on Apollo 11, but he was happy with the seat he had, he said. He felt privileged to be there. His biggest regret was for those who couldn’t be there — pilots who died in training accidents along the way, the Apollo 1 astronauts and his friend Charlie Bassett, who died in an airplane crash. “I thought ‘boy, he’d be right up there at the tippy-top of the list of who goes first on the moon.’ So I regret that aspect of it.” After his return, Collins retired from NASA, wanting to spend more time with his family. “Pat and I took on a totally different kind of life,” he said. “I figured I’d done the space thing and at the highest level,” he said. “I made a speech at a joint session of Congress and the Secretary of State, Bill Rogers, liked it, and he got President Nixon involved. And so the next thing I know, I was offered a job as assistant secretary of state. A little less than two years when up popped one that I was better qualified for, which was the director of the Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian, and that was just getting started. I started with a vacant lot and a hole in the ground and then a building and so forth.” Collins began running with astronaut Ed White during the Gemini program and ran 50 miles when he turned 50, completing triathlons along the way. When Gupta spoke with him in 2019, Collins was still speaking about the virtues of exercise and the Mediterranean diet. He cited “2001: A Space Odyssey” as his favorite movie. If there’s one question he grew tired of hearing after all of these years, it was “what was it like up there?” It’s part of why he wrote his 1974 book, “Carrying the Fire,” which was re-released for the Apollo anniversary. Throughout the Apollo mission, Kennedy’s wish was in the back of Collins’ mind. He reflected on that aspect of the mission 50 years later. “Apollo 11 was the culmination,” he said. “We were finally able to do what Kennedy had asked us to do, and so I think Neil and Buzz and I, all three, we felt that this was a culmination of a long, successful series. And we tried our best to fulfill it.” Seeing the moon up close was spectacular, but he recalls that the view of Earth kept snaring the astronauts’ attention. “I said ‘Hey, Houston, I’ve got the world in my window,’ ” Collins said. “And the world is about the size of your thumbnail if you hold it out arm’s length in front of you. The whole focus of your attention goes into this little thing out there. It’s in a black void, which makes its colors even more impressive. Primarily, you get the blue of the oceans, the white of the clouds, you get a little streak of tan that we call continents, but they’re not that noticeable. It just looks glorious.” But Collins noticed something unique about his perspective of our home planet. “Strangely enough, it looks fragile somehow,” he said. “You want to take care of it. You want to nurture it. You want to be good to it. All the beauty, it was wonderful, it was tiny, it’s our home, everything I knew, but fragile, strange.” CNN’s Samantha Bresnahan and Amanda Sealy contributed to this report. Source link Orbem News #Age #Apollo #astronaut #Collins #died #MICHAEL

0 notes

recentanimenews · 5 years

Text

Fans Give Their Hot Takes On The Anime Awards

More important than the Oscars, the Grammys, and the Havelock, North Carolina Chili Cookoff combined is the Anime Awards. It's that wonderful time when we can look over the past year of anime and bestow honors upon the ones that most touched our hearts. And with them looming ever closer, we asked some of y'all to give us your hot takes on who YOU think should take the trophy in some of the categories. And you didn't disappoint. Your answers ranged from surprising to thoughtful to inspired, so we decided to collect the twelve best of them and post them here for the rest of the internet to love and appreciate and then, as the internet does, nitpick into oblivion.

I'm gonna go down category by category, and what better category to start with than the big one: Best Anime.

BEST ANIME

"Yorimoi for AOTY" by Cameron (A Place Farther Than The Universe)

A Place Further Than The Universe was the best anime of the year. It was the best anime by far and no other show came even close. There were plenty of other shows I loved this year like Laid-back Camp and Revue Starlight but none of those shows compare to the good good Antarctica girls. The show teaches amazing lessons and made me cry many times. The email scene at the end of episode 12 made me cry for hours and I still tear up every time I think about it. It's just genuinely one of the best shows I've ever seen. This is my new go-to recommendation for people who want to get into anime. Their adventure is so inspiring and it deserves anime of the year.

"Devilman: Crybaby" by Manic Stylo (Devilman Crybaby)

It's been almost universally accepted by both formalist and populist anime fans that Devilman Crybaby has the qualities of an instant classic. From its unique visual direction, infectious soundtrack, and unrelenting use of adult content, Devilman Crybaby breathes new life into Go Nagai's classic manga and beautifully streamlines it for a contemporary audience. Remaining mostly faithful to its source material, director Masaaki Yuasa's sensibility for abstract and avant-garde visuals makes for a delightfully nightmarish fever-dream adaptation of Nagai's original concept (it's a match made in heaven...or hell in this case). As far as adult anime go, Crybaby is consistently balanced fare with uncompromisingly violent action for anyone who just wants a fun romp, solid thematic undertones for those who want more bite out of their shows, and tastefully implemented real-world commentary if you want more than just escapism. A hyper-stylized modern gothic masterpiece, whether it worked for you or not, Devilman Crybaby will not leave your subconscious any time soon.

"Zombies But Still Alive" by Jouii-chan (ZOMBIE LAND SAGA)

2018 has been quite the year for anime. It's my first year that I've been watching and keeping up with seasonal anime with Crunchyroll! But one show stood out to me, and that show was Zombie Land Saga. For the first few episodes, I was pretty doubtful about the series. I mean, an idol anime with zombie girls? That was just plain crazy!

But as the show went on, I realized Zombie Land Saga was more than some silly comedy show. It was beauty. All the characters had great chemistry, and the music was great. It got me addicted to it with it's great music too. The best part of the show was how it showed the indomitable human spirit and how even through the toughest of storms, anyone can prevail. Sakura provided a great lead with her past sucking her of all her confidence, yet she overcomes this to lead Franchouchou to a great future. Zombie Land Saga was one of the surprises of 2018, and I was always hyped to watch the new episodes when they came out.

"Violet Evergarden: An Anime for a Lifetime" by James (Violet Evergarden)

Violet Evergarden is an anime that grabs your heart. The loss of a father, mother, daughter, son- the fears of rejection, regret, and failure- Violet Evergarden reaches inside you, and pulls tight on these strings. It's not just a post-war story; Violet Evergarden is a somber filled tale that elicits a strong sense of empathy from the audience. Beautifully rendered and well-paced, the story features a subtle escalation in heart ache and healing. Each episode takes the time to fully immerse the audience in a complex micro-story filled with very human lives. This anime understands the importance of a well developed character, and spends it's time wisely weaving this incredibly vibrant, living world. Story aside, the animation and artwork are absolutely stunning. When paired, the audio and visual cues truly bring the world of Violet Evergarden to life. From start to finish, there is no other animation that delivers a more compelling sense of catharsis and satisfaction, and that is why I believe Violet Evergarden deserves to be Anime of the Year.

Best Boy

"I Would Lay Down My Life For Toono Hiyori" by Nija (Free! -Dive to the Future-)

200 words definitely aren't enough to properly convey my intense love and appreciation for my everything, the light of my life, the absolute blessing that is Toono Hiyori from Free! but I'M STILL GONNA TRY because he deserves everything. Starting out as a fun antagonist, turning into a slightly confusing antagonist, and then ep. 6 hits you with that ABSOLUTE GUT-PUNCH and I weep for him always. He did some things wrong (though I understand why he did them and wouldn't say I necessarily disagree tbh) but in the end he's just a lonely boy giving everything for the person he cares about the most without ever asking anything in return. Less important but still Important things include: he's a jerk sometimes and I love it. His frenemyship with Asahi? The funniest thing. He can and will ruin your life with a smile, he loves reading and coffee and has a really good fashion sense, he's very organised and on top of things, even if he's a social mess lbr... And if he likes you, he'll probably kill for you. All in all he's just the best and you, person who's reading this entry, should know that too. Bless his soul.

"Katsuki Bakugo, A Living, Breathing Explosion" by Mimi Valentine (My Hero Academia)

Katsuki Bakugo is easily one of the most dynamic characters of the year. Starting with his complicated relationship with Izuku, his hidden jealousy for a boy with no quirk, to outright anger at him suddenly having a quirk, to the rejecting the trope of "rival becomes evil for greater power," to confessing his feelings of inferiority towards Izuku, and the intense self blame for what happened to All Might. Katsuki has always shown that he has this heart, from treating Uraraka as his equal in the torunament, to fully acknowledging Izuku's growth ans strength. Seeing his slow dismantle from just a typical bully to a hidden broken boy only to show you that under all that anger, he's truly just a boy who wants to be a hero.

"Why Rimuru Tempest is the bestest boy of not just this year, but of all time" by Kat (That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime)

There were a lot of good boys this year, but who was the goodest? The undoubtedly most delicious smudge-muffin in existence?

My answer is Rimuru Tempest and here's why:

He is the kindest ball of squidge you could ever meet. He would stop and help anyone in need at the drop of a hat. In his previous life he DIED saving his kohai from an attacker and he would do it again.

He is adorable. How could you take one look at his face (or lack there of) and not fall in love instantly with this soft boy? Not only is he soft in his ball form but once he grants the wish of a dear friend, he becomes the ultimate soft boy. One you could probably hug endlessly and both of you would still be comfortable.

He is the definition of epic. One of the first things he does with his new life is befriend and EAT a dragon. He ate him, whole. Then he proceeded to eat everything else in the cave. If you hurt one of friends he'll eat you too! Not before he beats you in a hilariously and awesomely one sided combat sequence though.

BEST FIGHT SCENE

"SSSS. Gridman's True Final Battle" by Donovan Bertch (SSSS. Gridman)

The greatest part about SSSS.Gridman's final battle wasn't the sheer amount of quality animation and editing on display. It wasn't the satisfaction of seeing Gridman finally return to his original form, theme songs blaring, as he finally decked the villainous Alexis Kerib in his smug face. It wasn't even finding out what the hell SSSS actually meant in the end. All of those were wonderful moments that made the fight shine, to be sure. However, the greatest part was that when all was said and done, the fight wasn't Gridman vs. Alexis Kerib. It was the show's antagonist, Akane Shinjo, vs. Herself. Her sins, her insecurities, her self-hatred...it took a lot of effort, and it wasn't a total victory (given that Akane's final scene with Rikka shows her still processing her guilt), but few things are that simple. Even when the heroes came to encourage her, it was Akane who made the final choice that led to Kerib's downfall. Gridman may have landed the final strike and had the big speech about human potential, but Akane Shinjo defeated Alexis Kerib and saved her world. The action-packed duel was just icing on the cake.

BEST VA PERFORMANCE (EN)

"My Hero Academia, Episode 61: Bakugo's Breakdown (Clifford Chapin)" by Masky (My Hero Academia)

In one of the most emotionally stirring episodes of the entire series, we finally see all of Bakugo's pent-up anger come to a boil in this what could be considered a huge turning point for his character development. As a character who is known for his angry outbursts, this episode let us have some insight into Bakugo's inferiority complex and really reminded us just how young and emotionally immature these upcoming heroes are, and yet how much responsibility is weighing on their shoulders. With such an important milestone for a character like Bakugo, the voice acting in this episode was critical. Clifford Chapin gave an extremely raw and powerful performance that truly echoed Bakugo's pain; a performance that exceeded expectations of even those who don't normally give dubs a try. It was real, emotionally-charged, and could be considered a landmark for just how far english dubs have come.

"Clifford Chapin (Katsuki Bakugo)" by Katherine (My Hero Academia)

My Hero Academia fans sure are spoiled with a fantastic same-day English simuldub in addition to everything we already love about the series! With great casting overall by ADR Director Colleen Clinkenbeard, Chapin's take on Bakugo is one of the highlights. He's consistently been such a natural fit for the role that I can't imagine anyone else voicing him, and always seems to give 110%. Season 3 has been no exception with some key moments to really shine, including a fan-favorite emotional confrontation. His vocal cords would probably disagree, but I'm definitely glad he's a part of one of my favorite anime from 2018.

BEST OPENING SEQUENCE

"Fighting Gold - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure" by Loon (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind)

"Fighting Gold" is an intro I was honestly excited for long before it was even announce. I may be slightly biased as a manga fan and long time Jojo fan but in all honesty "Fighting Gold" is really a masterpiece in my opinion. It highlights the series so well with plenty of hidden spoilers as most Jojo intros have had before it telling the story perfectly if you break it down. It is an intro I will honestly never try to skip to get to the anime itself faster.

BEST DIRECTOR

"Akira Amemiya - SSSS.Gridman" BY Katherine (SSSS. Gridman)

I would not be surprised to see SSSS.Gridman represented in quite a few categories this year, but its direction is where the show truly shines as one of the best of 2018. Akira Amemiya and Studio Trigger juxtapose the understated, day-to-day activities of our heroes with glorious, city-destroying kaiju battles without ever being jarring. However, that doesn't mean the former is only viewed though a mundane lens while the latter are just beautiful hype machines. Character moments have just as much flair as any fight with dynamic framing, art, and sound design, while tokusatsu battles are given so much attention to detail with how the kaiju move to pay homage to the live-action shows the team grew up with. Amemiya has a confident sense of visual language, and it shows every episode. SSSS.Gridman is subtle when it needs to be and bombastic when it wants to be, which is not an easy task to pull off.

---

And there you have it, the diverse tastes of anime fans and people that praise the holy name of Bakugo. But even if you didn't find your submission on here, thank you for taking part in this and double thank you for supporting Crunchyroll over the past year. We do our best to give you the greatest anime collection in the universe, so we appreciate y'all taking the time to give us your thoughts in return.

Remember, if you haven't voted in The Anime Awards, there's still time! And if you have, we look forward to sharing the winners with you on February 16th, when the Awards are streamed live on Twitch.

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

0 notes