#so he just took it upon himself to learn how to do basic repair stuff

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Love the tragic irony of peppino having used to keep his hair long ngl...... Btw do you think he used to have some different hobbies back then? :O

(good luck w that comm btw-)

I dont think its tragic! His hair STILL comes down to his shoulder; he just doesnt have any annoying hair in his face that would make him want to make a ponytail. I think when u start balding u either panic or make ur peace and i think he was too worried about Other Things to care about it lol

As for hobbies, he has a Couple that i thought were cute and fitting.

Despite the anxiety, he is a bit of an entertainer. He can do magic tricks! Not very flashy ones but he knows alot of card and sleight of hand tricks; it is fun to see people stare in disbelief, and its a good way to keep his hands busy. The Autism prevents him from withholding Magic Secrets; if anyone asks him how he did it he will be very happy to share it. It helps that tricks are STILL hard to perform, even if u have the Knowledge of how it works.

He doesnt consider himself an artist but he can do caricatures 😊 I am very attached to my hc that he drew the little storefront logo for his own shop. Partly bc it would be easy for him to draw; mostly bc he did not want to waste money to get someone ELSE to do it if he could just do it his damn self. You will not catch him drawing or sketching anymore, even post game when hes doing better overall. But like most things, u can press him into showing off a little bit if u say the right words.

I hesitate to call it a hobby, but he will go jogging almost Daily. Well. When he was younger he jogged daily but nowadays he will at the very least Walk daily. He does it really early in the morning before he opens up shop, or in the evening if the weather permits. He doesnt like the rigidness of ‘working out’ though, and will avoid it like the plague; he is a little baby (princess) and does not want to get achey muscles and he does Not want to sweat at all its the worst. Post game, he will have random peeps join him for walks. He does not ask for this but it is not the WORST thing in the world to have some company :)

#answered #chattin #peppino #i have a bunch of other ones but wehhh #this will be an essay #which is what im trying to avoid now hdjdbdksk #he can bake as well he is just very good w foods overall #but when he got older and more stressed it accidentally turned into him stressbaking #he used to give it away to neighbors (bc the thought of throwing out food makes him ILL) #but now he gives it to noisette and gus bc they are literally black holes #they will simply eat anything and everything #also i think he can play on a concertina but only bc like #his uncle or grandpa taught him when he was younger to like #Expand His Brain or some shit; u know- teach them when theyre young bc theyre so receptive to new things #and THIS is bc i think it would be cute if he made a tiny peshino prototype for like marketing reasons #and he based it off of him being Just Okay with the instrument #and the tinkering is bc i think him being a BROKE BITCH meant that he was unable to literally call for repairs around his shop (and home…) #so he just took it upon himself to learn how to do basic repair stuff #and like #keeping his hands busy #tinkering to make a little windup toy seemed to make sense from there bfjdndkdndk #hes got lots of very minor talents and skills but they add up to give u a man that has approximate knowledge of many things #and he keeps it all to himself bc hes a loner :) #OMG how did i almost forget; thank u; i am still lining this comm #its not even BAD i am just. uninspired #i like draw big dudes buff OR fat and i am drawing Some Guy #so ive been dragging my feet through the mud gettin it done #but on god im finishing this lines tonight

[fanfoolishness]

Translation (The Mandalorian)

(Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages.  Some might have thought the Child had no language at all.  Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.  Fluff, feels, found family. Spoilers through the end of season 2, 2400 words.) 

***

Din Djarin was a man of few words, but he spoke many languages.

His earliest memories, half-forgotten, were soft whispers of his parents’ native tongue.  The Basic they spoke carried a sweet, slurred accent he could hear sometimes in dreams, fading as he grew older.  He had known the name and sounds of their language once, but years among the Children of the Watch had long erased them.

He learned other words to replace them, lost the accent of his youth and exchanged it for one of the Outer Rim.  He absorbed phrases and lessons in ancient Mando’a, wrote them in his mind in a way he could never forget, standing tall for lessons with the other foundlings.  They learned the words in hand and bone and soul, paired with the battle training of body and mind, and the words blazed within him.  They were a forge burning blue-white hot, transforming him slowly into a Mandalorian like his saviors.  He spoke those words on the day they granted him his helmet, and he gladly covered his face, the fire within roaring with a newfound pride.

As a young man he traversed the Rim, face always hidden, ears always open. New words were needed for the work he found.  He picked up enough Jawaese to trade with, though he bore little love for the scavengers; sometimes they were his only choice.  He spoke their language haltingly, enough to do what he needed, his mouth straining to shape itself in ways near impossible for a human.  If it was what the job needed, he’d do it.

His work brought him to worlds near and far, places where rule of law was an outright myth.  He took a great deal of work on Tatooine, and soon realized his marks, if still planetside, always fled to the desert.  

He was no fool.  He brought gifts in trade to the Sand People, meager things he could ill afford, but they sensed his respect, and they gave him words.  He learned their signs, hands practicing the movements at night by their fires.  He practiced until he understood the shape of the grammar, how the signs flowed one to the other, sentences constructed in the air before him.  He asked them for aid, and they told him of the trespassers on their land.

The Guild worked often with the Hutts and their empires, and he found himself bristling at droids taking liberties with his Basic for their Hutt masters.  Protocol droids weren’t the ones who’d devastated his world, of course, but they were soulless, empty things all the same.  He practiced his Huttese in seedy bars, in market squares, rarely with marks who behaved themselves for a chance to stay out of carbonite for a little while.  He spoke to the Hutts in their own language, and they learned, with time, to keep their droids back when dealing with the Mandalorian hunter.  

He picked up other snippets here and there, and understood more than he spoke in Twi’leki, Durese, Bocce.  Language was just another tool, another weapon that could be wielded in service of the Way.  He used it for little else.

Until he found the Child, and the words of the Creed flared deep in his bones.

***

The Child had no language, as far as he could tell.  He tried all of them he had, both spoken and signed, on the journey to Sorgan.  

“What’s your name?”

“Where do you come from?”

“Why did the Imps want you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

The Child just looked at him with interest, no matter which language he tried.  In desperation he even tried out curse words from a few he had no other point of reference for, feeling vaguely guilty for doing so, but it was the only other thing he could think to do.  The Child watched him curiously, small green hands folded politely in his lap as if waiting for Din to finish.  

He ended with a muttered “dank farrik,” and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.  The Child tilted his enormous ears and blinked slowly, looking at him deep in concentration.

“Eee,” he cooed happily, and Din sighed, awkwardly patting the Child on the top of his head.

“That’s okay, kid.  We’ll, uh, we’ll work on it.”

***

He watched the Child with the village children.  They chattered to him eagerly in Basic, calling for him to follow them, patiently laying out the rules in their little games.  A boy might lift the Child up in his arms, then pass him to a girl who would show him how to play with their game of counting sticks and stones.  For his part the Child laughed and played with them as if he’d been there all his life.

He wondered if the kid could understand Basic, but if his mouth just didn’t work the right way to speak it.  He’d never seen another of the kid’s kind, after all.  He practiced with him at nighttime, just little things here and there, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Come here, kid.”

“That’s called soup.  Sooooup.  Can you -- hey, don’t spill it --”

“Don’t touch that.”

“I said, don’t touch that.”

“C’mon, kid, get outta there --”

Well, if the kid understood Basic, he sure had a funny way of showing it.

***

Peli Motto was a good mechanic.  That wasn’t too surprising; spaceport towns usually had pretty good options.  Anyone who couldn’t wield a spanner was weeded out pretty quickly.  More surprising was the way she handled the kid.  

She sat in the landing zone on a shipping crate, the Child on her knee.  He seemed content as she bounced him slightly up and down, letting out cheery little noises periodically and waving his hands.

“How do you know how to do that?” Din asked, examining the Crest’s landing gear and checking the repair job.  Everything looked to be in order.  “He seems to like it.”

“Kids like bouncing,” she said matter-of-factly.  “Doesn’t matter what species  they are.  They like bouncing, food, feeling safe.  All the good stuff.”

He leaned against the landing gear, folding his arms across his chest.  “He… didn’t say anything while I was gone, did he?”

She shook her head.  “Nah.  I think this little one’s too young for language yet.  But I think he understands more than he lets on.”

Din’s mouth twitched in a smirk she couldn’t see.  “You and me both.  He’s stubborn, this one.”

She laughed.  “Reminds me of you.”

***

The Child was starting to become just ‘the child.’  He wasn’t sure when he stopped thinking of the kid so formally.  Maybe it was a side effect of the past several weeks together, leap to leap, world to world.  He was getting used to the little womp rat being there, messing with controls on the ship, getting into trouble, generally making a nuisance of himself.

Except for when he looked up at Din, his dark eyes open and trusting; except for when he fell asleep in the crook of Din’s arm instead of the blankets in his pram.  

He was kid now, mostly.  Sometimes buddy.  Sometimes pal.  The Child was starting to be reserved for when Din talked to other people.  In the Razor Crest, just the two of them, he was just the kid, and Din was just himself.

***

He cradled the kid against his chest as the wind whipped past them, the Rising Phoenix carrying them back to the Crest over the lava fields of Nevarro.  The kid’s little hands clung to his cuirass, but there was no need; Din held him more tightly, more securely, than anything he’d ever carried in his life.

A clan of two.  You are as its father.  

Dying sunlight glinted on the mudhorn signet, a reflection picked up through the slit in his helmet.  He swallowed, then tilted his chin in towards his chest, making sure the kid was okay in the wind.

A little face turned upwards to look at him, big eyes wide, his mouth dropped open in surprise.  Din chuckled a little, despite his aching head from the injury, despite the fate of the Tribe weighing upon him.  The kid liked the ride.  

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said into the wind.  “I got you.”

***

The kid didn’t speak Basic.  But he spoke something, and Din began to know more and more of what that was.

There was a little tilt of his head and shift of his ears for curiosity.  A slight coo and wide-eyed expression for delight.  An intent narrowing of the eyes with ears held stiff and back towards the tiny shoulders, especially when he wanted to do something that Din very much did not want him to do.

He tugged Din’s leg for food or to be picked up or changed.  He stared at himself in the reflections of Din’s armor and sometimes reached out to touch the shadow faces in their smooth surfaces, looking up at Din in surprise when there was nothing there but beskar.  He waited until Din looked away to play with knobs and buttons on the control console, and Din got better at always keeping an eye on the kid with his helmet turned just slightly towards him, enough to use his peripheral vision.

He found himself speaking more and more to the kid.  Things he didn’t need to say, words that filled the little cockpit of the Razor Crest with a warmth the place had never known.  The words spilled out of him, and the kid soaked them up like sunshine.

“Good job back there.  You were very brave.”

“Come on now, you know better than to mess with that.  … see?  I knew you did.  Good.”

“Feeling hungry?  Let’s see… I’ve got frog legs, bantha milk -- oh, there’s a thing of soup I can warm up for you.  No, those cookies are for after dinner.  You wanna grow big and strong, don’t you, little guy?  Dinner first.  Cookies later.  If you behave yourself.”

“Time for bed, kid.  No fussing.  I can see how sleepy you are.  Come on, I’ll come to bed too.”

“Night.  Get some rest, okay?”

It wasn’t just words he used.  He found a dozen, a hundred reasons during the day to reach out and smooth the kid’s robe collar, or carefully touch the edge of one oversized ear.  He got used to the weight of the kid on his hip or nestled in one arm.  His gloved fingertips were gentle, brushing against the kid’s cheek to clean his little face, checking his hands and feet for dirt or scratches.  He rested a hand against the kid’s back for reassurance, brushed a hand over the curve of the back of his head to help the kid relax and fall asleep.  He got used to small clawed hands nestled in his own.  And sometimes the kid reached up to touch his helmet, little hand slipping under the brim, and Din let it stay.

***

Turned out there were other ways to talk.  The Jedi turned to him in the misty night, firelight golden on her face, telling him years of tragic history, a constant fear, a lingering anger… a name.  

Grogu.  

It was hard to wrap his mind around at first.  The name fit the kid in some ways -- short and kind of ugly, but in a way that turned itself around to be somehow endearing.  But hearing the name lanced him through the heart, cauterizing like a blaster bolt.  Grogu had a name, and had nearly lost it.  He didn’t want that for him.  Remembered, for an instant, how it had felt --

But you had the Way.  What does he have?

He tried to help the kid -- Grogu -- with his powers, tried to show the Jedi what he could do.  He needs training.  I have to make sure he gets it.  He held the little silver ball, proud as anything when Grogu summoned it to his small hand with a snap.  But the Jedi’s refusal to take him slapped him in the face.  

He took Grogu back to the Crest that night, deep in thought, boots leaving little mark upon the loamy forest floor.  Grogu watched his helmet with wide eyes.  For a moment he felt a pang of jealousy.  How many months had he been with the kid, and never found out half of what the Jedi told him in a moment’s conversation?  

“If I could have, I would have, kid,” he murmured.  “...you know that, right?”

Grogu’s hand came up to twist into the cloth of his cowl, brushing against his neck.  

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and the relief he felt was indescribable.

***

There hadn’t been enough time.

One moment he was laughing in the cockpit, overwhelmed by the way Grogu looked up when Din said his name.  One moment he was whooping when the kid used his powers, eagerly telling him he’d done good.  One moment it was just the two of them, happy, hopeful, safe.  

And then the Jedi Seeing Stone lit up with a glow he didn’t understand, and Grogu slipped away from him.

He fought and Fett and Shand fought with him, and through it all he could only think, Grogu. Kid. I’ll protect you!

A messy, chaotic fight, blaster fire, a direct salvo.  The Crest vanishing under a blinding flash, dark figures launching into the sky with precious cargo at a speed the Rising Phoenix couldn’t hope to match.

He failed. 

Grogu was gone.

And he had no words at all.

***

Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages.

Some might have thought the Child had no language at all.

But on an Imperial cruiser, standing before strangers, Din held his son close.  He cradled him to say goodbye, and when the little hand brushed against the brim of his helmet, he lifted it without hesitation, despite the Creed written in bones and blood and beskar.  

Din trembled at the warmth, the softness, of that small hand brushing tenderly against his naked cheek.  And when he opened teary eyes to gaze upon Grogu’s face, he knew exactly what his child was trying to say.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian spoilers #tm spoilers #spoilers #my mando fic

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 46: A Mewman and a Monster (Preview)

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Slime has asked his crush Princess Penelope Spiderbite out on a date and needing support, both emotionally and literally, calls upon Star and Marco for help. The two graciously lend a hand in helping create the most romantic date possible but, as usual, things rarely go the way they want it too. 

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

The dimension was completely lifeless. Once a sprawling community had dwelled there, setting up residence in its green pastures and lush landscapes, living a simple and basic life amongst the natural resources all around them. But that peaceful lifestyle had changed when technology was first introduced to the humble society. At first it had been small changes, as it always started, machines and many mechanisms made to help make life easier. Need to plow the fields? Build a machine that could do it half the time you could. 

Soon people were using machines for every part of their everyday life and with the invention of robotic helpers… everything changed. Their once grassy hills were torn up to make factories, their land broken and scarred for the sake of 'progress'. Soon their dimension more closely resembled a machine than a once thriving, living place. And the numbers of robots steadily grew, until they outnumbered all living beings 10 to 1.

Sunlight was blocked by heavy smog while frequent and heavy storms began to tear apart what was left of the landscape. The dimension became virtually unlivable and the people were filled with dismay.

That was until a mysterious benefactor appeared one day, offering to buy up the remaining usable land for unknown reasons. The people happily accepted the offer, using the money to relocate to a new dimension (hopefully with better luck than the last), leaving the new owner of the dimension to do with it however they wished. Soon they began construction on a single building, employing the many robots that still inhabited the place to the effort. It took a long time, even with beings that didn’t have the need to eat nor sleep at the head of construction, but eventually it was finished, a single living place in the dimension of dead architecture. 

The place was a sight to behold: a clean, cut courtyard leading up to a grand, multi-story building. The architecture was ancient, borrowed from famous castles and cathedrals throughout the multiverse, a sharp contrast to the sleek, modern buildings the dimension had been so known for. 

But for as magnificent as it seemed, there was something sinister as well, something dark lurking just behind the smoothly cut stones or grand balconies. A large metal fence had been built around the building, electrified at all times to deter anyone from entering or exiting through anything but the gate. A large tower stood above the building itself, pulsing with some dark magic that had been lost to time long ago. The building's architecture was full of sharp edges and spikes that could seriously harm anyone who was not weary of their surroundings. And though the grand double doors were made of the finest wood in any dimension, they opened onto halls of endless turns and deadends, a labyrinth built to keep everyone trapped inside forever. 

But the creator of this school did not care how others viewed it, because this place was serving a grand purpose, educating and enforcing positive change on the future monarchs of the multiverse. St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses was a school like no other, standing superior to any other education system that dared to compete with it, for it was focused solely on punishment and strict results. Every young princess that was sent there, no matter how rebellious or resistant they were, would eventually be broken. It didn’t matter if it took days, weeks, or years, St. O’s and its founder and principal, Heinous , had a perfect record that had never once been broken. 

That was until a certain four-armed princess blew the whistle on the academy's “less than reputable” penalties and the school was shut down by the dimensional knights. The great Miss Heinous was forced on the run, leaving every part of her life, her career, her home, her minions, her legacy, to rot. She spent years on the run, just barely managing to stay one step ahead of the dimensional knights and any other form of military power a noble might hire to capture or kill her. But through it all, Heinous only had one thought that kept her going day in and day out. Revenge. Or rather, her legacy finally fulfilled. She often confused the two but it didn’t matter. The path was the same. The path to ultimate victory and control. The path of perfection. 

And that path had led back to where it all began. 

Nostalgia and old memories came flooding back to the once-proud principal as she stood in front of her old, decaying school. She could still picture it back in the prime of its life, see it as clear as if it were standing in the memory itself rather than the broken dream that stared back at her. Reality was far from the picture perfect days of old. Oh how the mighty had fallen. 

Her once proud school was now in desperate need of repairs, walls caved in over the course of time, entire sections of the school now gone. The courtyard was now filled with untamed weeds and overgrown plant life. The tower that had once stood as a beacon of power for her school had been the first thing taken down by those pesky knights and it lay in shambles around the area, an ever present reminder of the injustice Heinous had suffered. The fence was bent and disfigured,  was now full of giant, gaping holes in its structure making it completely useless, now it couldn’t even keep out the gust of wind that blew through the empty courtyard. The school had become nothing but an empty shell that had once housed life within it. Heinous couldn’t help but scoff at the irony, her greatest masterpiece was now no different to the rest of this forgotten waste of a dimension. 

She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. No, she couldn’t start dwelling on all that now. She had come here for more than just reliving her past failures. Today was about seizing her future. A small cough behind her caused Heinous to roll her eyes. She had almost forgotten her hired hand had come with her, just in case some dimensional knights were lurking there and needed to be disposed of. It was clear that Rasticore, unlike her, was less than content with her dimension. She could practically feel Rasticore’s discomfort as he shifted from one foot to the other, over and over again. It was obvious he wanted to get this over with, something at least they could agree on, Heinous was ready to achieve the next step of her decade-long scheme. 

“So are we going inside or not?” Rasticore finally asked and Heinous turned back to him with a narrowed glare.

“Why? Don’t tell me you are frightened of my school?” she accused him, point blank. 

Rasticore tensed, before gritting his fangs, clearly holding back the retort. Instead he replied, “No, just all this smog is aggravating my condition.” He then made a point to cough into his claw. 

Heinous highly doubted that was the reason for his rush. Not when it was more likely her minion was playing up his sickness to hide his discomfort from her. After all, he was recovering remarkably well from the poison, ready to resume his work in just a few short weeks, so a little foul air shouldn’t be upsetting him as much as he was pretending it was. 

Still, she didn’t see any reason to delay things any further so Heinous just turned to her minion and said, “Very well, follow me.” 

Entering into her old home was like walking into a portrait in time, everything left exactly as she remembered it. The knights must have left things the same for evidence reasons but Heinous ws surprised her school was still mostly intact. A few rooms had been caved in or hallways blocked and everything certainly needed a good dusting but from the view outside she had been expecting much worse. Paper and pencils lay on the dusty desks, ready to use, as if some child had just set them down and then vanished from this dimension. The banners holding old phrases and mottos Heinous would often repeat in classes were decaying but still hung up even after all these years. The only thing missing was her beloved robotic staff. 

Shortly after her escape she had gotten word that all robots operating under her name had been discontinued and dismantled to “prevent further harm” as they had put it. Ha, as if her precious staff could be so cruel, every punishment was fully justified and all for the greater good. If only the royals of the multiverse had seen it that way. “Cruel and unnecessary” they had called it. Hypocrites! They were always happy with the results, even quick to praise her or offer her large sums of money as thanks, but the moment they knew how their beloved child came to be cured of their faults suddenly she was the villain, torturing their bratty children by making them perfect.

Well if they were too stupid and cowardly to see her perfect vision all the way through, then it was up to her to fix this miserable, chaotic world. 

Heinous entered into her old office, staring at it with wistful eyes as memories came flooding back to her all over again. Every detail of the small space was exactly as she had remembered it, not a single stone out of place, even after all these years. She ran her hands across her desk, her fingers brushing the loose pieces of paper she had been reading through when the alarm had sounded. Old student files and report cards now yellowed with age and beyond salvaging Heinous could have read them with ease, every single letter saved to her subconscious. 

Rasticore stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching as his temporary boss reminisced her old life. It was shocking in all honesty, the lizard assassin hadn’t even known Heinous had a smile that wasn’t sinister but she seemed… almost genuine now. That was until she came across a certain file and the peaceful look switched to a frown, the spell she was under was broken. She picked up the piece of paper, ripping it to shreds in a matter of seconds. Rasticore jumped but didn’t say a word as his boss fell deeper and deeper into a blind rage, picking up several other files and ripping them apart as well. Soon the room was coated in paper shreds and the desk was empty. Rasticore risked a look at what remained of the original file, surprised to see it was a young curly haired princess with four arms. He couldn't imagine what she had done to invoke such fire from the level-headed woman. 

Once the temper tantrum was over, Heinous straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair, making herself look presentable again before turning to her minion. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” she said as if nothing had even happened. She reached her hand into one of the many pockets that lined her oversized dress and pulled out a small key covered in intricate carvings. Without a word she shoved the desk to the side, Rasticore taken aback by the sudden show of strength. He certainly hadn’t expected it from such a petite woman. 

Heinous bent down and inserted the key into a small slot in the ground and turned it with a click. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet collapsed and a long spiral staircase stretching into the darkness beneath was revealed. Heinous returned the key to her pocket before looking at Rasticore expectantly, much to his confusion. He had been caught off guard thanks to the multiple, unexpected turns this trip had taken and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what she was wanting. Her sharp eyes dug into his skin before she impatiently snapped, “Well? You are the one with the light.” 

Rasticore could slap himself for being so stupid and he quickly pulled the lantern out from behind his cloak, already brightly lit by phoenix embers. Without a word he started down the stairs, practically feeling Heinous roll her eyes behind his back and he had to clench his claw so tightly a few trickles of blood formed on his leathery skin. For not the first time, Rasticore seriously debated on just how bad a reputation he would get for killing his employer in cold blood. The lizard assassin cursed himself for his integrity as a killer for hire, every other job had been so easy but this one was really testing just how far he was willing to go for his reputation. He probably would have quit entirely if he weren’t for those stupid brats that eluded him mulitple times. Every attempt he made to take that worthless Princess Star resulted in complete and utter failure and the humiliation ate away at him almost as much as his anger. So if having to endure Heinous a little longer meant seeing the looks on those brats' faces when they finally got what was coming to them… well Rasticore wouldn’t miss that for the world. 

Rasticore smiled, imagining the faces of Butterfly and her friends when they realized they had lost and that brought a new fire back to his soul, descending the staircase with a new vigor. The lizard got a good look at his surroundings, his night vision easily spotting what it was they were down there for: robots. Dozens of them, old and rusted over to the point Rasticore questioned if they would even activate. He looked back at his boss, who was eying the robots with a glimmer of dark ambition, not at all concerned about their obvious defectiveness. 

“Thought all your robots were dismantled,” Rasticore questioned suspiciously. 

Heinous shook her head. “That’s just what you would think,” the woman replied in a condescending tone. “And I knew those idiot knights would believe the same thing, hence why I had these hidden away in case I was ever found out. Imagine it, they all believed they had beaten me and yet my true power was right under their nose all along.” 

“Well that explains their poor condition,” Rasticore mumbled to himself, low enough he knew Heinous couldn’t hear him.

The two reached the bottom of the staircase and Heinous began inspecting her machines closely, running her gloved fingers along their metal casings and grimacing at the layer of dirt left behind. “The truth is those robots from my time as principal were simple worker drones, but these, my dear Rasticore, are my army.” 

“So you had these things hidden away this whole time and you never thought to use them before now?” Rasticore asked in a deadpan, trying to hold back his rising anger. If she had an army this whole time, why bother hiring him for her dirty work? How much time had he wasted fulfilling her goals when she could have just as easily sent a robot to do it. 

“Of course I did,” Heinous replied with quite a bit of malice. “They were my plan from the beginning. I just had to wait for the right time to use them.” 

“And only after I’ve been poisoned for your little mission do you suddenly decide it’s the ‘right time’,” the lizard Monster grunted, doing air-quotes for emphasis. 

“Hold your tongue!” Heinous snapped, her voice echoing around the dark chamber. The two stared each other down, neither breaking eye contact for even a second. “You cannot possibly comprehend the amount of time and planning I put into this,” she continued, spitting every word violently at her minion. “I spent years concocting the perfect scheme to take back everything I lost, to regain control and create a perfect world order. And yet you dare to believe I would overlook something so carelessly. No. Everything has been planned out.” The woman turned her back to the assassin, stating smugly, “In a scheme like this, timing is everything, my dear Rasticore.” 

She approached the nearest robot, wiping the dust off its metal surface, pulling out the same key from before and examining it closely. “And the time has finally come for the next phase of my master plan,” she whispered decisively. With that she rammed the key into the center of the robot’s chest, causing its eyes to blink open and light up red. Heinous took a step back as the machine slowly rose to its feet, creaking and groaning loudly, its rusted body protesting greatly. Branches that had formed around its hollow shell snapped and broke as it pushed itself upward with great strength. Finally, the machine was up, standing tall and at attention, its red eyes blinking as it waited for new orders, somehow menacing despite its deteriorating body. 

Rasticore took a step towards the robot body, still eyeing it skeptically but didn’t see a point in arguing, if his boss wanted to gamble all their plans on some old, dumb robot then she could deal with the consequences. It wasn’t his problem if her plan failed, so long as he got paid. “So what, we send this hunk of junk after the Butterfly brat and finally be done with her.” He had to admit the idea of a robot taking her down instead of him left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Heinous admired her machine with a satisfactory smile, her hands delicately running along its frame. “Patience, Rasticore, patience. Star Butterfly will receive her punishment in due time. But for now she is too highly guarded to risk an attack on her. We must tread carefully from here on out, no more half-witted schemes, we must deal with her delicately or all of this will be in vain.” 

Rasticore grit his teeth at the small insult but kept his calm, extended time with Heinous had really helped him with his temper, the one good thing he could say about being stuck with the snooty, high-and-mighty ex-principal herself. “So who are we targeting?” Rasticore asked impatiently. “I thought the whole point of this field trip was so you could get your hands on Butterfly. You yourself said you needed a Mewman for-”

“And I what I said still holds true,” Heinous interrupted, turning to her minion with a very evil expression. “Which is why we will be targeting another old student of mine, one who is much less guarded and much more obtainable.” A dark look passed over Heinous’ face as she thought of one of her oldest and most successful students, just speaking her name again filled her with a satisfaction and pride Heinous had almost forgotten about. “Princess Penelope Spiderbite.” 

#star vs #star vs AU #Light of the Sun and Stars #Preview #Starco #Spiderslime

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

your hc about mary please🤲🏻🤲🏻

Aw thanks so much for asking!! Idk if you're the same anon that asked about Tilda or a different one, but I appreciate you just the same 😍 no one has interacted with the Tilda post yet from what I can see so idk if people care about this in general but im glad you do! And I'd love to share regardless.

Once again this'll probably be long so it's going under a cut. Cw for normal aftg stuff but then also a little human trafficking mention in the beginning and general abuse/neglect both physical and emotional.

And once again this is in no way to excuse Mary's shitty behavior. She and Tilda were both abusive and terrible mothers and this is more just an exploration of the character and her mentality than anything else. I just love character depth.

Finally, I apologize if this isn't very well worded. I'm pretty tired but I dont like editing myself lmao I'd rather just get this out now. I think I get my points across clearly enough so I don't care as much about how good or bad the writing is

So Mary's mother was a woman who I consider not only having married into the Hatfords but who was basically like... sold to them as a child. Like maybe she was the illegitimate child of some other wealthy family who happened to owe some kind of debt to the Hatfords. And the Hatfords had only one son and were struggling to have another, but were desperate to keep the family line going. So they took this baby in exchange for forgiving a debt, and raised her to one day marry their son.

So this girl (whose name I've decided is Marion for some reason) is raised as a member of the family but like... slightly less. Treated as more of an object than a person. They basically only gave her enough of an education for her to get by, and made sure she knew from a young age that her sole purpose in the family was to marry their son (let's call him Samuel).

So you can imagine she didn't grow into a very happy woman. But she filled her role. She married Samuel Hatford, gave him 3 kids, and then pretended to stay out of the way. Stuart was the oldest, Mary in the middle, and I hc they had a younger sister as well. Don't ask me why. That just popped into my head one day and now I can't imagine otherwise.

So this family dynamic was fucked from the beginning. See Marion filled her role, but she had plans. In raising her children, she gave a great deal of care and attention to Stuart as he was the eldest and the only son. He was to inherit the family business upon his father's death or retirement. And she wanted to make sure she was taken care of properly in her old age. So she made Stuart feel as loved and doted on as she could.

Her daughters served her no purpose, so they got very different treatment. Mary especially was affected by this. The youngest daughter was able to generally slip under the radar and find her own niche in the world (married into a powerful wealthy family through a man she genuinely loved and that was already more than anyone needed or expected from her).

But Mary. She felt her mother's cold shoulder on a very deep level. Their father wasn't exactly a family man- couldn't be bothered. And here was her mother, so plainly and openly playing favorites. Stuart would get hugs and soft words while Mary would- on a good day- get slapped for even opening her mouth. See Mary and her sister were never meant to have any real power in the family. So what did it matter to Marion what grudges they held against her?

So enough years go by and Marion decides its taking too long for her husband to retire. So she takes matters into her own hands. Starts slowly slipping poison into his meals in very small doses until he's too weak to fight back when she slits his throat. She doesn't hide what she did. She doesn't need to. When Stuart takes over at 22 years old, he can't find it in himself NOT to protect her.

But I'm getting carried away. So Mary was now in a pretty weird spot. Stuart being in charge gave her a bit stronger footing in the family (they'd always had a very close relationship despite their mother's attitude), but she was still lower rung. She still suffered at the hands of her mother's emotional neglect and manipulation. And she was getting tired of it.

In comes Nathan Wesninski. See the thing I imagine with Nathan is that he is actually incredible charming. His knives can only get him so much when there are people he can't reach to cut up. And when his rising empire starts doing business with the Hatfords, he and Mary latch onto one another very quickly.

They each have their own intentions in the relationship and neither of them are blind to that. But it wasn't an arranged marriage. See Mary saw Nathan as her ticket up and out. She knew he was vying for power and she knew he was fully capable of getting it. I wouldn't go as far to say they were ever in love- I don't think either of them were ever really capable of that- but Mary definitely had some strong faith in what their relationship could be.

Now, when she looked forward, she finally saw herself on top. She saw her and Nathan standing side by side. That power that had always been out of reach for her? It was now in sight, and she definitely was blinded by that. She didn't see what Nathan really was until she was in too deep.

Stuart and the younger sister had disapproved of Mary and Nathan being together from the beginning. Being in business with him, Stuart knew what Nathan really was and how much he could drag Mary down. Their younger sister had just learned to be much better at reading people. But it didn't matter what they said. Mary had her plan and nothing was going to take it from her.

Mary's commitment to marrying Nathan and Stuart's blatant disapproval of him created a deep rift between them. They had always been very close, but Mary saw his interference as an attempt to keep her in her place. She was stubborn and refused to back down. By the time she and Nathan got married, her and Stuart were barely on speaking terms.

Now the thing is, Nathan knew what he wanted out of Mary. And he also knew that once he had her, she wouldn't be able to go anywhere until he got what he wanted.

It didn't take too long for Mary to come to understand that what they had was never and would never be a partnership. She was a tool to him. And by the time she had Abram, he was already beating her into submission and openly fooling around with Lola on the side.

But now she was stuck. Their marriage may not have been arranged, but it was still a business deal. And even if it wasn't, Nathan wasn't going to let her go anywhere.

Once it became clear that Abram wasn't going to make an appropriate heir for the Wesninski business and Nathan tried to sell him to the Moriyamas, Mary decided she'd had enough. She was going to get out one way or another.

Now here's the thing. We know what Mary was like with Neil when they were on the run. We know how abusive and controlling she was. And she could say it was for his own good all she wanted. But ultimately, it was all about power. She had been beaten down from the very start of her life. She'd been left in the dust, bloody and bruised, while those around her rose to a power that was always just out of her reach.

But now it was just her and her son. And they may not even have the luxury of being real people anymore, but damn if she was going to lose the one thing she was able to call hers- the one thing in the world she actually had power over.

Because that's really all it's ever about isn't it? Mary Hatford wasn't capable of loving anything or anyone. The people who'd raised her and made her who she was had never taught her how to do that. And maybe the fierce protectiveness she had over Abram was the closest she could get to it. But really she just ultimately became the same thing she had always been fighting against. Now it was her own heavy and swift hands doling out punishment to a misbehaving child. Now she herself was the one getting the last word and making all the decisions. Now she had someone following her every command.

It eventually became clear to her that she very likely would die sooner or later at the hands of Nathan and his men. She could only run so far and for so long. But even in her death, she knew she would never let them take what was hers. She never took Abram to Stuart because the break in their relationship was beyond repair at this point. But she still would prefer Abram eventually ended up in his protection than at the end of Nathan's knife. But until these things came, she took Abram and kept running. The more days they ran, the more days she had of power over him and freedom from everything else. The more able she was to ensure that Abram would keep running after her death; that he'd never fall under anyone else's power and that her voice would be the only one left in his head at the end of each day.

If she could see where he'd ended up, she'd be furious (and she'd be surprised at her own fury, as introspection wasn't something she indulged in often). He was never meant to live. He was never meant to move on from her memory or to leave her dying request behind.

But, at the same time, good for him for finding his own strength and place in the world. Because of course it could only happen once she was gone.

---

So thats my take on Mary. Once again, she was a piece of shit just like Tilda. This is not to do anything other than explore the character and give her complexity. I do genuinely believed she "loved" Neil in the only way she could ever be capable of loving anyone. But it wasn't love. It was possession. And good on both him and Andrew (and Aaron and Nicky for that matter) for being able to slowly learn to heal from the abuse they suffered at the hands of their parents.

Thanks so much again for asking!! It means a lot and I love to share my headcanons 😊❤

#aftg #aftg meta #mary hatford #stuart hatford #neil josten #nathan wesninski #nathaniel wesninski #abram hatford #tfc #my writing

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

Younglings//Obi Wan X Reader

Forever series: Part three

summary: in the wake of another attack, Obi Wan introduces you to some of the Jedi trainees

word count: 1554

Warnings: A few cuss words, me not understanding iPhones, Tik Tok, kids, (Yes children are a warning) angst, fluff, typos.

You sat curled up in a fetal position under the bed. The sound of Blaster bullets deflecting off of lightsabers as the Jedi knights fought off the bounty hunter that had broken into the apartment. You tried to calm your fear and focus on your breathing as the fight went on. All of the sudden, the noise of fighting came to a halt. Silence rang throughout the room as you held your breath, waiting to see what the outcome of the fight was. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, your hands were shaking. In a timid whisper you called out. “Obi Wan?” There was a short silence before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approach your hiding spot. Your felt like your heart completely stopped. Had you just alerted the bounty hunter to your hiding spot? What was he gonna do to you? Was Obi Wan ok?

The footsteps stoped right in front of the bed, you heard whoever was in front of you bend down and lift up the covers hanging over the end of the bed. Your eyes met Obi Wan’s and You let out a sigh of relief. “Hello there.” He offered you a hand which you gladly took. “Are you alright?” You asked as you slid out from under the bed and stood up. You blushed slightly as he held your hand in his, enjoying the feeling of his warm calloused hand against yours. He let go of your hand.“Of course I’m alright,” he said putting his lightsaber back on his belt “I wouldn’t be a very good Jedi if I wasn’t.” Your sight fell upon the body of the bounty hunter that lay in the center of the apartment, another Jedi who had accompanied Obi Wan was propping the limp body up. “I-is he...” “Oh he’s quite alright, just having a nap until we can interrogate him.” You walked over to the broken window that the bounty hunter had smashed through. You stepped over the shards of broken glass and leaned against the window, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “I think the better question is are you alright?” “No I’m perfectly fine, not like I was attacked for the second time in a week or anything.” You said sarcastically.You turned around and your gaze meet Obi Wan’s, his beautiful blue eyes filled with concern. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little on edge.” You walked over to the bed and sat down, running a shaky hand through your hair. “ didn’t help that I didn’t get much sleep last night either, I had a stupid nightmare about some island and it was raining-“ “I had the same dream!” Obi Wan exclaimed. You whipped your head around and look at him in complete shock “Really?” “Of course not, that would be ridiculous.” He said as he sat down next to you. “Haha very funny.” You looked out the window again. You heard the other Jedi call Obi Wan over, he left your side to go talk to him. You two waited as the two Jedi conversed, Watching Obi wan and the He would cross his arms or stroke his beard while he was thinking. ‘Why does he have to be so damn hot?’ You though to yourself. After a few minutes, the other Jedi left to take away the bounty hunter and some droids to showed up to repair the broken window. Once everything was settled, Obi Wan came back over to you, his cloak laying over his arm, indicating that he was about to leave. “I’m afraid I must be going.” You nodded. You didn’t want to say anything for fear of sounding like a scared child, but you really didn’t want to be left alone the apartment. “Would you like to accompany me?” Obi Wan asked. You looked up at him with a weak smile and agreed. *** You stayed close to Obi Wan’s side as you made your way through the ornate halls of the Jedi temple. “Where are we going?” You whispered as you agusted your back pack. “I told you young one, it’s a surprise.” You couldn’t control the fluttering of your heart when he called you young one. “The bounty hunter attack was a surprise too ya know.” “Well this is one I think you’ll enjoy.” He said as you two turned the corner into a large doorway. You stopped in your tracks at the sight before you and squealed with delight. “Y/n, these are our Jedi trainees.” He said jestering to the room of five or six younglings. “Oh my god! Baby space wizards!” You shouted.

Obi Wan sighed. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. You really need to stop using the word ‘space’ to describe everything.”

“Not a chance.” You said marching into the room.

“Hello Master Kenobi!” Al the kids said in unison.

“Greetings young ones.” He motioned to you. “This is y/n, Master Yoda has asked us to watch over you all while he attends to business.”

You smiled at the nearest youngling, a young twi’lek girl grinned back to you.

“So what do you do around here for fun?” you asked the girl as several other children gathered around you.

“We train.” She said flatly.

“Yeah but like, do you play games or anything?” 

She shrugged. “Sometimes, do you know any games?”

You thought for a moment. “Actually...” You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders and dug through i. You finally pulled out your phone. “I have a few games on my phone!”

Obi Wan sat back and smiled as he watched you show the younglings how your phone worked. He couldn't get the thought out of his mind that in another time and place, you could have once been one of these young ones, training in the jedi temple.

He had been completely shocked by your midichlorian count yesterday. You had told him that there were no jedi on Earth, if that were so then why were you force sensitive? Could it be part of the reason you got transported here?

He shook those thoughts from his mind. ‘We have the book that got her here, we just need to translate it.’ He thought to himself. ‘We’ll have answers soon enough.’

“Hey Obi!” You called out, pulling out a pack of cards from your bag and dealing them out to the kids. “Wanna play?” He moved to where you sat on the floor and seated himself next to you.

“What’s the game?” He asked.

“Uno, it’s pretty easy you’ll pic it up in no time.”

“Well, I am told that I’m rather good at Sabak.”

“Then you’ll get this in no time!”

                                                         ***

When Master Yoda finally returned, he found Obi Wan sitting in one of the chairs, Amused as he watched you teach the kids a dance.

“What doing is she?” Yoda asked as he made his way towards where Obi Wan was seated.

“I believe she is teaching them something called a Tik Tok.” They watched you and the young ones dance to savage.

“I believe she referred to it as ‘the song of her people.’

Yoda nodded. “Take her words with a grain of salt I would.”

Obi Wan stroked his beard before asking his question. “Master, how are the translations of the book preceding?”

Yoda’s expresión looked grim. “Slowly they are.”

“Do you believe that y/n’s force sensitivity and the book are connected?” He said quietly, so that you wouldn’t hear.

Yoda hummed to himself. “Possible it is.”

“And I can’t tell her?” Obi Wan asked, looking at you longingly.

He shook his head. “Tell the wrong person she dose, would be very dangerous.”

Obi Wan stood up. “Well, I believe it is probably time for the youngling to return to their training then.”

You and Obi Wan bid farewell to the kids and made your way to the speeder outside the temple.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to speeders.” You said as you buckled yourself in.

“I’m not very fond of them myself.”

There was a pleasant silence as you two rode back to the apartment. You had really enjoyed hanging out with the younglings. It let you forget about your predicament for a bit and laugh again. 

Obi Wan found himself admiring you. The way the Coruscant sun shone in your hair, the gentle smile that graced your face, and how you closed your eyes enjoying the breeze. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he was in total awe of you.

“I have an idea.” You said, snapping him from his thoughts.

He turned his head back to the air way quickly, so that you wouldn't catch him staring at you. “Alright.”

“Well, if I hadn't contacted you in time this morning, I would have been toast.” He nodded waiting for you to continue. “So I was thinking, what if you taught me to use one of those space guns? Or some of that space karate stuff? That way I’m not completely defenseless.” 

‘Hmm, well I don’t know what karate is, but I do agree that teaching you some self defense could be very valuable to your safety. I’ll talk to Anakin and see if he can help me teach you some basics.”

You clapped your hands together. “Yay! I’m exited!” He smiled at your eagerness. “I can’t wait to learn space karate!”

#star wars #Star Wars Fan Art #obi wan kenobi #obi wan star wars #obi wan x reader #obi wan fic #Star Wars fanfic #star wars x reader #x reader #obi wan #fanfiction

[pokeverse-amethyst]

Sooooo… this is gonna be a long one, strap in. What follows is a metric ton of HCs about every single evil team and how they have worked themselves into every aspect of daily life, as to make them way more difficult to get rid off than just with a couple of arrests. Timeline wonkiness when trying to explain what likely happened first is to be expected, I’m playing fast and loose with all of this stuff. I might be way off topic in some regards but HECK HERE GOES. ~~~

TEAM ROCKET: This is pretty much of a no-brainer. What we have here is a classical mafia structure, and you just need to look at countries with extensive mafia presence to know that they are baked into every single fucking thing. Giovanni has worked years upon years to cement himself straight into Kanto and Johto, consequently making it impossible for any of the other teams to even THINK about gaining a foothold there. No further explanations necessary. ~~~ TEAM AQUA / TEAM MAGMA: This one is a bit of a more difficult one. But then again, let’s presume that most of the teams recruit a mixture of people who fully believe in the team’s message, who misunderstand the team’s message, and who see themselves in the team, but not necessarily in the message (so just looking for somewhere to belong and to gain some kind of direction). Oh, and monetary gain. Can’t forget that. So in the case of both Aqua and Magma? I like to believe it started out with Maxie and Archie working together on a plan to give nature back to Pokémon. Like, with trying to get more protected zones established, kinda like Fiore has them? But they were hitting resistance too often. Now I’m not saying that they were on the wrong track from the start or developed into what is basically eco-terrorists, but… they probably saw way too much bad shit happening to Pokémon around them. Maybe they heard what Team Rocket was doing to Pokémon in Johto and Kanto. Maybe they heard rumors about what Cyrus nearly accomplished, what Lysandre almost triggered, what Ghetsis managed to fuck up with his whole power play madness (TWICE, too!), what the Aether foundation might have had triggered if not for the intervention of a Legendary, what Rose made possible in the GALAR REGION of all places… Suffice to say, they probably felt like they needed to seriously up their game… to make sure that the other teams didn’t fuck up the world beyond repair before THEY could make the world a better place. The only thing that finally broke Archie and Maxie up though, was an inability to settle on what would be better. More landmass, more sea? What would be the gentler way of resetting humanity? Suffice to say, their vision might have attracted way too many who nudged them along. So TLDR: Archie and Maxie mostly reacted to what the other Team Bosses were doing and were helped along by Grunts/Admins that were way too into the whole “we will be the only humans deserving this new, shiny world”. They were numerous enough and determined enough to turn into a slightly terroristic group, but until the ultimate use of Kyogre/Groudon, they never really registered that much on Interpol’s radar. And when Interpol learned of them stealing a whole ass sub? It was already too late stopping them in their tracks in time. After all, Interpol had all the other regions to monitor as well… ~~~ TEAM GALACTIC: So. Charon doesn’t need much of a head canon fuckery. He just did it for the money, that much he stated openly. And Jupiter, Mars and Saturn? They all admitted openly to being along for the ride because they believed in Cyrus and the world being fucked up beyond repair, thus needing a good ol’ divine intervention from the whole-ass creation trio. But I don’t think any single one of them fully understood what Cyrus’s goal was. The commanders (that are not Charon) squarely fall into the category of “misunderstanding the ultimate purpose of the team”, as do all the Grunts. And as mentioned above with Team Aqua and Magma, Galactic probably saw some of the stuff that was happening around them and ultimately decided (and this is mostly for the Grunts and the Commanders) that Cyrus probably wasn’t so far off with the human spirit being incomplete. But they made one crucial mistake (pretty much the whole team, even Charon). They thought that Cyrus’s assertion over the incomplete nature of the human spirit was a reason for the man to believe in a world that should be made whole, not in wiping the whole fucking slate clean and going Tabula Rasa on the whole of creation. Much to the annoyance of everyone involved (and with that I mean the Creation Trio and the big boss of them), he actually went far enough to step on everything just to gain the power to control the legendaries. Also, time to unearth an already yoinked HC of mine that Giratina mostly retreated into the Distortion World to get some good alone time in, only to be disrupted by Cyrus bursting in. On that point also: time not really working all that clearly in the Distortion World. Kinda like Narnia rules, in as there is no fixed constant for time moving forward in either one or the other extreme. Sometimes, time will move forward extremely fast, other times, you spend years and years in the Distortion World and only a few seconds passed. After all, everything gets a bit… wobbly in there. But around the time Cyrus entered, Distortion World time became… more orderly. And that was what prompted Giratina to go VERY UNAMUSED ON HIS ASS. Think of it as time being influenced by what is thrown into the Distortion World. BACK to the Team, though. Galactic honest to Arceus believed that what they were doing would give the world a much needed boost… and were unpleasantly surprised when they were later on all shown that Cyrus wanted to go destruction and rebirth on the world. But that is not to say everyone was unhappy about this revelation. ~~~ TEAM PLASMA & NEO PLASMA: What easier time to convince disparate beliefs than with the apparent reason that they were just helping Pokémon that would have been unhappy in the care of their trainers? Wether the Grunts believed that the Pokémon should then consequently be released back into the wild or that they THEMSELVES deserved the Pokémon way more than others? What easier way to convince them of Plasma’s ideals? And there was no real discussion amongst the Grunts over this dichotomy. Sure, a few were disputing the one or the other stance, but most were still agreeing that the trainers they took the Pokémon from did NOT deserve them. No matter how pure their reasoning was. No matter how reality really looked like. Sure, they were removing Pokémon from some really nasty trainers? But on the greater scale of things, they mostly took Pokémon from trainers who they loved being with. And Ghetsis had his thumb on this a lot. See, Ghetsis didn’t want N to sway too much, before he finally met the protagonist. So Ghetsis made sure that only obviously abused Pokémon removed from trainers were brought to N. …why, no, this doesn’t mean at all that they were usually just from the outside. Ya think Ghetsis only had his main team? Dream on. ~~~ TEAM FLARE: What is there to say about Team Flare? They are basically a mix of the worst of the self-viewed elite of the region. There is entitlement to being viewed as the best of the best (and you can’t tell ‘em otherwise), there is doomsday fans who would do the whole shit with bunkering down and then fighting in an apocalyptic wasteland and fancying themselves new leaders in that changed world, there’s the ones who just think they will be able to surpass even Lysandre… What about the Admins of Flare? They half share Lysandre’s views of beauty. But mostly, they are in too deep to quit, and also half about relishing the fact that they get to work on something truly unique and devastating. They want this whole power thing to work out for them because some time in their lives, they might have felt like they were owed power and didn’t receive it. They were owed recognition and didn’t receive it. They want to be the new top of Kalos without working TOO hard for it. Without anything laying rocks in their path. Without any obstacles telling them that, no. They fucked up. ~~~ AETHER FOUNDATION: The moment Lusamine found out about the Ultra Dimension, she ostensibly was lost to her goal of getting her hands on the power to change the face of the world. And to preserve beauty. In many ways, her goal was similar to Lysandre… to a degree. The Aether Foundation is half staffed by people who truly believe that conservation work is the most important factor in the Pokémon World, to preserve some of the more endangered species around the world, and half staffed by people who truly believe that the Ultra Dimension holds answers to problems humanity might not even have recognized as such. This latter half was unpleasantly surprised when they started to learn the truth from the Ultra Dimension researchers. Finding out that Necrozma had destroyed the natural light of that world and was now the only source of more light for the city? That was a shock. But that didn’t necessarily mean that the Aether Foundation would have been broken up by that. Because honestly? The part of the conservation enthusiasts who were not deterred by the Ultra Dimension incident made the Foundation bloom beyond what it was possible to become. So in short: this foundation survived its leader far better than many others, and actually managed to get accepted. ~~~ MACRO COSMOS: This is the team that shocked their region with just how far their influence had gone. And that is to say that they existed at all, right under the noses of the region. Rose’s whole deal is a big part why Leon would later be plunged into a crisis of conscience, despite everyone assuring him that he had no way of knowing just how far Rose was willing to go to show the region how wrong it was to not immediately acquiesce to all that he envisioned for the future. The mere fact Rose was UNWILLING to wait what would at most have been half a day for Leon, to celebrate with the others after another big Champion Tournament? That was what sat so ill with many in the region. It wasn’t so much the message that Rose felt everyone had missed (that was actually just his version of events - most of the Macro Cosmos Grunts were attached to him solely for the reason of having privileges that none other had, and when they saw how he was acting, only the most dedicated few could ignore what was going on). So we are dealing with another team that was shocked how far the leader would go, but even more so than the Aether Foundation, the members scattered when Rose enacted the Darkest Day right out of nowhere. There is still worries that remains of Macro Cosmos could be out there, trying to bust Oleana and Rose out of prison and actually finding another way with which to scare Galar into complicity. How well that would even go is a whole different question… because the new champ is even stronger than Leon, and THAT is real fucking bad news for anyone who would want to establish themselves.

#Big whopping HC post incoming #Dash Commentary: Musings in Primorvia #Primorvia's Voice [Mun] #The Mountains Hold Many Paths to Secrets [Headcanon] #This went on for longer than I expected #I have no idea where even half of this came from #If I accidentally rephrased something someone else HC'd before I'M SORRY I KINDA LOST TRACK WHERE WHAT MIGHT HAVE COME FROM #Anywho have an oggle at almost 2k words of RAMBLE

[randomfandomfamily]

Alright, here’s the other story I did a few weeks ago. It takes place during Season 2 Episode 4, so… yeah. Good times. Anyways, I just got done editing the crap out of it, so I’ma post it now and get to work on some of those requests ✌

“GARY!!” Little Cato panicked. Pushing himself off the ceiling, he tried to chase Gary into the translucent pink void. He slammed into it, unable to pass, watching Gary disappearing behind a wall of solidified time. “NO!!”

He beat his fists against the wall. “Gary?! Gary, can you hear me?! Gary!” The power flickered back on, gravity reactivating, and Little Cato fell unceremoniously to the floor. “Hang on, Gary, I’m coming!” He pulled his blaster off his side and fired it at the wall. “Come on, come on, come on!”

The gun wasn’t working, so he holstered it and took off running. “Guys! Gary’s trapped on the other side, we gotta get him back!” He couldn’t hear anyone, and he assumed the worst. Had all been injured in the crash. Or maybe they- “Nightfall! HUE! Ash, Fox, anybody! Hello?!”

Every hallway was empty. Giving a frustrated shout, Little Cato went back and checked every room. Twice. “Empty, empty… AVA where are they?!” He paused, realizing the ship’s AI hadn’t answered. “AVA, too? What is going on?!”

He looped back around to the control room. “Guys, this isn’t funny! We have to help Gary, he’s trapped on the-!”

Then he remembered. He and Gary were the only ones in the control room when it hit. Everyone else was…

“On the other side…” Little Cato whispered. “I’m on the other side.” He felt his heart sink with the realization. “I’m trapped.”

Between the slowly increasing despair and suffocating fear of never getting back to his friends, Little Cato spent the next couple of days throwing anything and everything at the pink wall that kept them separated. Eventually he realized that he simply didn’t have the resources to break solid time.

So he decided to be a little more productive with his time. He spent the next couple of days doing some repairs. There wasn’t much he could do, but he knew how to use the welding tools, so that’s what he took care of first.

After about four days of making absolutely sure he welded together every piece of the ship he could (it took longer than expected without AVA to tell him where to go and what to fix), Little Cato ended up back in the control room, tapping his fingers anxiously against the arm of the chair.

The controls weren’t working. Nothing was working. And that stupid wall of pure pink frustration still wouldn’t budge no matter what he hit it with.

“Think…” Little Cato crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Gary and the others are gonna try and find a way through from their side, and they’ve probably still got AVA. Maybe the best thing I can do is wait. I mean, the ship’s still connected, right? I could seriously mess stuff up if I start messing with wires.”

Rocking back and forth, he reconsidered. “Then again, this is a time shard. Maybe normal laws of physics don’t apply here.” He paused. “Does this fall under physics? Whatever, it’s some kind of science.”

He stood and cracked his knuckles. “Well, it’s been a week and nothing’s happened. If nothing over there has affected anything over here, then I guess I can mess with some stuff if I need to.”

The only real problem was that Little Cato wasn’t sure what to do. He could do surface repairs. He understood the basics of spacecraft engineering. He knew how to hack into someone else’s mainframe. He could lightfold, jump a dead craft, hotwire someone’s ship (that last one was strictly emergencies only), but the Crimson Light was an advanced shipt. And when it came to redirecting power and trying to keep track of the important wires that needed to not be cut, it was completely beyond him.

He was a hacker and builder, but he was not equipped for this.

Fortunately, he found a manual that outlined the ships wiring and circuits and whatever else was in this complex monster of a ship. Unfortunately, it was huge and full of words he didn’t understand. But, on the plus side, he had plenty of time to read through it and even understand most of it.

Which also meant… that meant his friends still hadn’t come for him.

But they were coming, Little Cato was sure of it. Even as weeks and weeks passed, he knew that they were going to come, even if it was taking a while.

The more he studied, the more clear it became that he wouldn’t be able to move the ship. He would have to redirect power to the engine, and he didn’t have access to it. He tried to see if he could do it indirectly from the controls but, as he suspected, the time shard was preventing any correlation between the split sides of the ship.

He couldn’t get power to the engine, but he could redirect it to the parts of the ship he did have access to. In order to make sure he had as much power as possible, he shut off most of the lights and redirected it to oxygen, gravity, and other essential parts to his survival on the ship.

By the time he had studied all the materials and mastered the intricacies of the ship, there was an estimated sixty-seven years or so before he ran out of power. Not that he would ever need that much power because Gary would definitely find him long before then.

The three years he had already spent there were nothing, really. He had already spent that long in the Lord Commander’s care, and that was way more terrifying.

There was only one thing that he had from the other side, and that was the hologram he had built of his father. It was kind of the only thing that kept him motivated. When in doubt, Avocato was always there to say that he believed in Little Cato’s abilities.

Or at least that’s what Little Cato could program him to say. The real Avocato had never even said ‘I love you’, much less ‘I’m proud’ but, hey, a kid could dream. Besides, who else would know? Fox was his roommate, and he didn’t even know.

Three years doubled, then tripled, and suddenly twenty years had gone by. Little Cato had stopped carving lines into the wall. There were too many to count.

Except that he had counted all of them. Several times. Because he didn’t have much else to do.

All he could do was wait. Wait and survive. Fix the ship, maintain the ship, wait for Gary, survive until the next day.

Being thirty-four was weird. Little Cato around Gary’s age… though Gary would actually be in his early fifties by now.

Little Cato often wondered if the others were stuck just like he was. Could they have possibly found a way to detach the Crimson Light from the shard? Or maybe they had called for help and gotten on a different ship?

Gary did have universe-saving to do… dimensional keys to find… it would make sense if they had all left. Little Cato wouldn’t blame them, really. Two decades was a long time to wait.

“You bet it’s a long time,” a voice laughed, “I’ve been hopping timelines for a while now. Twenty years is no joke.”

Little Cato whirled around. “Nightfall?” But of course there was no one there. He shook his head. “Get it together, Little Cato. You haven’t been here that long.” The tally marks on the wall seemed to laugh at him. “Well… not long enough to go crazy, anyway.”

He hesitated. “But hypothetically speaking… what would Nightfall say if she were here? She knows more about time than I do…”

“The best thing you can do is remember is to stay calm.” Nightfall’s voice said gently. “It doesn’t matter how much you know or how much you learn, it’s useless if you are too scared to act.”

Little Cato smiled. “Right… stay calm.” He smiled to himself while he worked. “And you know who was always pretty good at keeping people calm? Mooncake.” He grinned. “Mooncake always gave the best face hugs.”

“Chookity-pok?”

“Well, probably Gary because he has, you know, arms. But you and your little poddles totally win in the face-hug department.”

“Chookity.��

Little Cato chuckled. “Yeah, well-” He dropped wrench he was holding. “What the heck am I doing? Am I seriously talking to myself?! Get a grip, man!”

And he had a grip… for another two years or so. Then he figured, what’s the harm in pretending he had Nightfall and Mooncake back? As long as he remembered that it wasn’t real, everything would be fine. It was really no different than the hologram he had of his father.

He just couldn’t imagine Gary. Only Nightfall and Mooncake.

Though after a while it seemed kind of wrong not to include HUE. And things were just too quiet in his room without Fox around to bicker with, and if Fox was there of course Ash had to be there.

Clarence got to be there to for some reason, but Little Cato didn’t remember when he showed up. Or Tribore. They both just sort of appeared.

Somehow he managed to fix AVA. Though he wasn’t sure if he had actually fixed AVA, or if that was just one more thing he had created in his slowly deteriorating mind, but she and HUE seemed to be getting along either way.

And KVN was there… but he hated KVN. There’s no way he would have imagined KVN there with them. Maybe he had been there the whole time… that had to be it. Of course that was it. KVN was just always there.

The only one who wasn’t there was Gary. Tribore asked about it once, where Gary was, and all Little Cato could do was tell him the truth: Gary was on the other side. They had to get back. No matter how long it took.

But then awful things started to happen. Fox and Ash died, Nightfall slowly started to go blind, things that Little Cato wouldn’t wish upon his friends in a million years were becoming reality all around him. Part of him started to wonder if ever really imagined them.

Forty-five years on the other side of the time shard, and Little Cato had completely forgotten he was ever alone.

Little Cato had forgotten that he was the trapped one. He had forgotten that the friends he had conjured were only meant for emotional support. Everything was real to him. Sixty years of trying to break through the time shard to find Gary was so so real…

He didn’t remember that he forgot until he was saved.

It wasn’t until he saw Gary staring down at him that he remembered where he had really been for the past sixty years. When he had his ghostly friends to keep him company, he forgot that he had been alone, his mind twisting his memories so that he never remembered.

But being back… being young and back in his time… he remembered. Every memory came flooding back: every torturous night, every haunting day, every moment of crippling loneliness came back with a crushing vengeance.

“I was alone for so long…” Little Cato stood, trying not to show how hard it was to reorient himself. “For sixty years…”

Gary blanched. “Wait, are you saying you remember? You remember what happened in there?”

“Ugh.” His own insanity flashed through his mind. “Yeah… all of it.” He couldn’t stop thinking about how twisted everything had gotten. All he had wanted was the reassuring memories of his friends. Something to call on when he didn’t know what to do.

How did things get so out of hand? Why did they get so out of hand? Maybe trying to create a person out of memories wasn’t all that… healthy.

An image of a gray box prodded at the back of his mind. There was something he had to do.

“Dang. Loneliness is the worst, man. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Gary looked at him, concerning tugging his features into a worried frown. “You are okay… right?”

The answer was no. But he couldn’t tell Gary that. He also couldn’t lie and say yes. So he just said, “Thank you, guys. For not giving up on me.”

And then he left. It was going to be a long, long time before he was ready to talk about what happened in the time shard. But there was one thing he definitely wouldn’t be telling this to.

It was time to put that hologram away. For good this time.

#final space #little cato #look #i didn't say this was gonna be a happy fic #random disaster writes

[selanaris]

A Beastly Fate

(Note: An amazing writer @moonlightdeer739 wrote this amazing piece and I cannot wait to read more!!)

Bumblebee made an impulse buy as he and the rest of the repair crew were docked on Cybertron, most mechs buy small domestic pets to keep them company on long flights, but hey, when a hulking great big Cyger is going for less than most fancy breeds, who’s he to turn such a deal down? Little does he know just what a fate he’s set himself, the Cyger, and his small team on.

Chapter 1

Bumblebee wasn’t the brightest bot, he’d never claim that, one of the fastest online? Oh he’d say that until his final cycle, he’d say that if he was rusted to the planet itself, one of the fastest bots ever even.

But now he had a new little title to go by, Bumblebee, the impulse buyer.

He’d bought things on impulse before, upgrades, frame decals, the whole seven kliks, normal things that normal sane bots will on occasion impulsively buy.

But this?

His latest purchase had ever mech and femme leaping aside in horror, and was following him like some obedient cyberhound, keeping a good bit of slack on the leash he’d bought to attach to the blank collar of his latest impulse purchase.

The beast that’s shoulder was higher than his helm, with jaws that could snap his helm off, and massive claw bearing pedes almost as big as Bulkhead’s clumsy servos, had a colouration of bright red and blue, with near neon yellow breaking up the two in a pattern of yellow strikes that slashed downwards to the black and grey underbelly of the beast.

Bumblebee almost laughed when a mech leapt clean into a trash receptacle to escape his new purchases gaze.

Those bright, almost crystal blue optics, hazed unlike the clarity of higher sentience, continued to glance around, taking in every shocked face, but also kept focused on his new owner, the first member of his colony.

Bumblebee was practically preening himself, this was so worth it, this was worth Zeta screaming at him, worth Ratchet’s scolding at miss-using their funding for getting spare parts for the Spacebridges, Bulkhead would, well, Bulkhead would probably be too scared to be in the same room as his new pet, the big soft spark.

Bumblebee glanced behind him when the leash went taught, his impulse buy was looking at something, giant snout sniffing the ground, massive whiskers twitching as the beasts optics narrowed a bit, before winding when he gave the leash another tug.

Not a moment later, and his purchase practically trotted a few steps to stand beside him, the beasts helm was level with his own, a slightly unnerving factor.

He reached out, and after a moment of hesitance, petted the beasts helm armour, which came with an interesting addition, a detachable helm guard, which wrapped around the beasts pointed audios, the lip at the front could be pushed forwards to cover the beasts slit optics.

The beast perked up, letting off a chuffing noise at it leant into the touch.

Honestly, Bumblebee had been shocked at how… tame the beast was, all chuffs and huffs, tail wagging up a storm despite the giant blade like stinger that appeared from the second to last piece of armour on the beast’s tail.

He’d been just, window shopping when he noticed a petshop was getting a rather large delivery.

He’d gone to investigate, and after a bit of a wait, the owner of the shop, had dragged the beast into a holding area, Bumblebee had purchased the giant beast on the spot, shocking the much larger mech, who’d had to drag the beast through the shop, it’s massive talons schreeching as it tried to fight the pull.

Clearly the cybernetic beast was much happier following him, so, he kept going, taking another step, the beast ambling at a slow walk, it’s massive strides far longer than his own.

Bumblebee’s attention left his pet at the next shrill screech of someone noticing the beast on the other end of the leash he was holding.

He’d hate to return the beast, but if all the fun he got to have, was seeing those around him react to the giant beast, then it was worth the shanix he figured.

If the others, namely Ratchet, he didn’t care what Zeta wanted, let him keep the beast, he’d have to come up with a name for the beast, which was a him, something good.

Now it was just a matter of convincing the others to let him keep it.

“CYGER!” Someone shouted someway ahead.

And again Bumblebee chuckled, he couldn’t understand it really, his new pet was so… docile, like a well trained Cyber hound, only, much, much bigger.

Oh, and known for being Cybertronian eaters… back when all the Cygers weren’t locked away and domesticated-ish.

How the sweet slag had he forgotten that?

Ratchet was going to fragging murder him.

By some miracle, Ratchet didn’t slag him for using their teams funds to buy a Cyger, he cursed the minibot out about it, or at least tried to.

The Cyger made itself known again when Ratchet reached for a wrench, the growl it let off more a… chastise… over a threat of attack, and it cowed Ratchet into stepping away from the wrench covered bench… somehow…

Bulkhead, surprisingly, was absolutely enamoured by the giant beast, comenting how hard it was to get ‘such a nice balance of the primaries’, whatever that meant.

He, Bulk, and surprisingly the Cyger’s, it’s optics suddenly going wide like as if it was still a little kit and not taller at the shoulder than both him and Ratchet, were all able to convince the old war vet, that, though unorthodox, a pet Cyger would be a good guard pet for his ‘precious ship’.

Bumblebee even cited the reactions he got when he’d walked the Cyger back to the dock they had the ship parked in, refuelling for another run out to fix another bridge.

Within a cycle, the Cyger was well established, he never followed one of them for long, but when the congregated on the bridge, he’d be there two, flopped over on his side, tail wagging lazily as hazed blue optics followed the mechs, listening to them speak, but not really understanding any of what they were saying, or even the language really.

Well no, he knew what they were saying, he had enough sentience for that, just not what really to do with it, and how he should react to it.

So, he did what his base coding told him, make sure his colony was happy.

Bumblebee was easy, just chuff and huff and rub up against the mech till he fell over, laughing at the absurdity of a Cyger really acting like an overgrown Cyline.

Bulkhead liked to pet him, he was big enough to not have to worry about the larger mechs cumbersome servos crushing him, in fact, when the mech was paying attention, he was a really good at it, even knew what spots to avoid.

Which was primarily, his paws, the plating over his simple spark, and the plating that covered his interface array.

The last of which, Ratchet had learned not to go near, after having tried to check if the Cyger.

The scratches weren’t deep, but the surprising amount of fear and wariness in the Cyger’s hazed optics was enough to convince Ratchet that it was probably better not to see if the Cyger had been… fully domesticated.

Within a few joors though, the Cyger was right back to sniffing stuff in the med bay, giving the old medic a chance to ramble of explanations, it was nice sometimes just to talk about his tools, the ones he still had.

He wasn’t blind, he noticed that the Cyger had spotted the missing part of his arms armour.

The look in the Cyger’s optics had been one of a strange… sympathy, not quite there, but enough to read.

It somewhat unnerved the medic to see such a… advanced expression on a creature of sentience like a Cyger, yes they were self aware creatures, yes they were as alive as he was, but they… they didn’t have the processors for that level of emotion…

Unless he was just confused and going on his basic, run of the foundry understanding of Cyger’s, and they were all just collectively a bit sharper in the processor than many gave them credit for.

It was all going well enough, they all forgot their Captain hadn’t yet returned from his own ‘rendezvous’ with the city of Polyhex.

 Until he did, that is.

Zeta, none of them would ever actually refer to him by his title, was furious.

He threw an absolute fit, yelling all sorts of threats at the small yellow mech for ‘brazen miss-use of funds’, and other such slag they’d all worked through much more calmly.

The Cyger, evidently, did not like Zeta, the mech received no love from the Cyger, not that he even tried to show any back.

When the Cyger whimpered his way to Ratchet, the blade like stinger at the end of his tail missing, the stump sparking, and a good chunk of the tail itself flattened, it wasn’t difficult to guess the culprit.

The blade couldn’t be found, so Ratchet had to put the Cyger under, and just remove the rest of it properly, leaving a flat, weapon-less tail, that, upon waking and realising what he’d lost, the Cyger had just, shut down for a time.

At least, until Bumblebee flopped down against the Cyger’s side, and scratched the massive beast under the chin, perking the Cyger right back up.

It wasn’t spoken, but it was obvious that the Cyger, who still hadn’t been designated when they took off for the next job, was now avoiding Zeta like the red rust.

Which was fine with the less than liked captain, who amused himself by bossing around the two younger bots and trying to get on the old veterans sensors, primarily by trying to toy with the ships systems. ‘Make it go faster.’ ‘Still can’t believe you didn’t let me install a holo-screen’. And so on and so forth.

It got to the point that the three mechs actually started just… venting, to the Cyger, still not designated, but not for lack of Bumblebee trying, he just couldn’t find a designation for the life of him that stuck.

 The Cyger, surprisingly, or really, unsurprisingly, at this point, was a very good listener, and seemed to follow their vents well enough to react with similar emotions.

Zeta kicked the ships controls again? The Cyger would curl up around Ratchet’s pedes, and just listen as the mech vented out his frustrations on the latest little gizmo he worked one to keep his servos active.

It kept him from pulling at his old war wound.

Zeta called Bulkhead a bumbling foo, or some other unpleasant thingl? The Cyger would be chuffing and rumbling a storm, driving out those harsh words with the soothing rumble.

And whenever Bumblebee was given the worst jobs to do? Specifically because Zeta took offense to him buying the Cyger in the first place? They’d race in the lower level of the ship, Bumblebee always won in his alt mode, but he swore that was because the Cyger always seemed to trip, or stumble, or suddenly run out of endurance just before the finish line when he took the lead.

Bumblebee actually tried to talk about that to the Cyger, convince the beast that, no, he didn’t want an easy win, he wanted the Cyger to help him go even faster.

The Cyger apparently took it to spark, and now, Bumblebee was now really having to push himself to keep his title as the fastest member of the small team.

Within two Orns, it was almost like the Cyger had always been there.

Zeta still hated the Cyger something foul, but after an attempt to throw the beast out of the Air-lock whilst it recharged backfired, mostly because the airlock refused to open, and Ratchet finally reached the end of what could be considered his patience, and threatened to space the captain himself, considering the ship was technically his, not Zeta’s.

Since then, the Captain hadn’t made anymore attempts to harm or remove the Cyger, but the animosity still festered.

The Cyger himself seemed to be relatively unaffected by this, focusing on either recharging in places Zeta couldn’t reach, like hidden away in the engine room, or in the cargo bay, or Ratchet’s medbay.

When the giant beast wasn’t resting, he was prowling the halls, sniffing and huffing at everything and rubbing his flanks against everything, marking his territory when Zeta couldn’t see and get defensive.

And when work had to be done on a Spacebridge?

Turns out the Cyger was very much a helpful servo so to speak.

Primarily working with Bulkhead, all the larger mech had to do was point, and the Cyger would tear larger space debris to shavings, the hooked claws normally hidden away easily sharp enough to cleave through the vast majority of what blocked up the giant portal generators.

It certainly sped up the process of getting to the mechanical work.

As was the routine, Zeta would stay on the ship, not even paying attention to the work, and rarely giving a Scraplets aft if the conditions were even safe to work.

They all knew this, they all accepted that that wouldn’t change, and that they had to just keeping each other as safe as they could whilst they work.

It was on one of these more dangerous cycles when Bulkhead and the Cyger were having to fight against a small asteroid field, that had been bombarding the bridge they were now at, that Bulkhead’s wrecking ball swung wide after bouncing off an especially large piece, that it crashed into what looked to be a hollow rock.

Almost instantly, the Cyger perked up, and jumped away from his teammate, bounding to the hollow rock, huffing and sniffing as his whiskers bounced, picking up even the faintest of electro-magnetic signals.

Claws scrabbled against the rock for a moment, before purchase was found and the Cyger managed to force himself inside.

This whole incident flew completely past the others of the crew, too busy trying to prevent any more damage to the Spacebridge.

That is, until a scream came from that very same hole.

One that caught Bumblebee, who was closests, attention, in a moment he’d abandoned his position, and raced over, clambering up himself as best as he could to see what had caused that noise.

What he saw, surprised him.

In the hole, no, cave, was his Cyger, practically flattened to the ground whining, tail tip flicking as his hazed blue eyes kept staring at the other entity in the cave.

A black and gold motorcycle former with a blue visor, three pointed throwing weapons primed and ready to fight.

Realising this mech could actively hurt his pet, Bumblebee called out. “Hey! Hey! Leave him alone!” He called, catching both of their attentions, he was too busy trying to get through the hole to notice the shock on the bots face, or really hear the happy chuff coming from his pet, but once he’d less than gracefully fallen flat on his aft and looked up, he was able to better see the situation.

The cave was lived in, somewhat, there was a small stash of energon cubes, a few small trinkets and other weapons, and outside of the hole in the cave, what looked to be an exit had been blocked up.

Had the mech planned to slowly offline in here?

Creepy.

Before he could speak, his Cyger was on him, chuffing happily and giving him a lick with that rough glossa, taking some of his paint with it, he didn’t bother complain, his Cyger just liked to be affectionate.

“Hey! Hey, no, down… good Cyger.” He petted the side of his pets helm when it gave him room again, allowing him to look over to the other mech and gestured to himself. “Bumblebee, and this…” He gestured to the Cyger. “Is my pet, so put the weapon down, he ain’t gonna hurt you.”

The other mech didn’t look convinced, at all.

Bumblebee couldn’t help it, he smirked. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little Cyber-kit?”

The black and gold mech scowled. “Does your processor malfunction? That’s a Cyger.”

Bumblebee gave the mech a surprised expression, looked back at the giant metal beast, who’s helm was level with his own. “Oh? I didn’t notice, he’s cool, see, hey, pet, do the thing.”

The ‘thing’, was the Cyger opening those massive jaws as wide as they’d go, baring the rows of serrated fangs within.

Bumblebee smirked at the bot, and stuck his servo into that open maw.

The Cyger didn’t even twitch.

“See? He’s completely tame.”

The other bot just looked at Bumblebee like he was out of his mind.

Bumblebee just rolled his optics. “Fine, don’t believe me, come on, we need to go back to work, or Zeta will have even more to shout at us for… Err… Pet?”

The Cyger didn’t follow, still looking intently at the other mech, tail thumping on the ground.

Then the Cyger looked at him. “Mmmrroww?”

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a few times and looked at the Cyger. “Huh?”

Whatever had just passed between them, brought his pet to a decision, the Pet slunk up to the mech,and then reared up onto his hind pedes, causing the giant Cyger to tower over the over mech.

Within a few moments, the Cyger had the mech by the scruff bar, and was waddling the mech back over to the hole in the cave and climbing back out, completely ignoring the mechs protests.

It took Zeta four cycles to notice the new, somewhat aloof and less than amused member of the crew.

But by that point, there was no turning around, not that Zeta would, another pair of servos meant work got done quicker, and he could have them take on more jobs, meaning he’d get paid more, a win in his logs, so, he just ignored the matter, though sent the Cyger another foul look when he overheard it was the beasts doing.

It mattered little, the Cyger had already gotten into Prowl’s spark, and the mech wasn’t so keen on going anywhere else anymore, not that the Cyger would probably let him.

The Cyger was practically preening, another member, his colony was one stronger now, this was good, the bigger the colony, the happier the colony.

And when his colony was happy? He was happy.

#tfa beastformer optimus au #transformers #transformers animated #transformers au #transformers animated au #maccadam #maccadams #macaddam #tfa optimus prime #tfa optimus #submission

[demigodofhoolemere]

Long bitterness below because I saw something that drove me crazy and I wasn’t gonna be able to rest until I articulated my frustrated thoughts

~~~~~

@ the person who wrote this I just wanna talk

https://screenrant.com/mcu-avengers-most-shameless-things-loki-ever-done/

Most of these are just outright wrong and it only takes the slightest glance at canon events to prove them as such, and the ones that have any amount of accuracy to them are devoid of critical context.

I don’t remember seeing much of this stuff before Ragnarok but it’s everywhere now and it’s kind of telling of the narrative bias that movie planted in everyone’s heads that people are now looking back with a lens that’s colored to be against him from the outset without bothering to take into consideration context, critical thinking skills, or empathy. The narrative tells us that he’s just bad so let’s not look any further than that I guess.

Wasn’t gonna debate each of them but the more I think about it the more it’s gonna bug me until I do, so here comes the bitter canon police...

Number 10

1) Right from the off: “Loki and Thor have always had a love/hate relationship — though it gravitates more toward the ‘hate’ part.” Um... always? Because last I checked, despite their differences, they grew up as best friends. Their problems that we see onscreen span from 2011-2017, a measly 6 years compared to over a thousand years of life together. This is a blip on the radar, one that certainly doesn’t constitute leaning towards mainly hate for each other. Heck, even during this time period, they’re clearly shown to love each other. Loki definitely gets angry, but I wouldn’t say he outright “loathes” Thor, at least not in a way that diminishes the love he also has for him.

2) “As such, Loki has betrayed Thor and his adoptive family many times.” This is so wrong I barely have the energy to explain why. People love to give examples of all of Loki’s supposed betrayals and they pretty much all fall down under scrutiny. The only ones I can understand listing are lying to Thor about Odin being dead, along with his attempts to kill Thor at the climax of the first movie (this stuff was when he was waaay out of his right mind, btw — not that he’s not responsible for his actions, but context is still important when taking into account anything he does), and various things in Ragnarok that were out of character for him to do in the first place. Anything else, even if it’s bad, cannot be counted specifically as betrayals against his adoptive family, since things like coming to Earth weren’t about them. If only a couple of instances are able to qualify as betrayals, then no, he has not done this “many” times, no matter how much people like to push that idea.

3) “Of course, Thor often got the brunt of it.” I’ll let that one stand because Thor got a fair number of screams aimed at him, but honestly, I’d say the person most negatively affected by Loki’s actions tends to be Loki. Thor really didn’t get more than he could handle. And as much as I love him, he’s not innocent of dishing his own stuff onto Loki as well. Wording it this way makes it sound like he’s Loki’s abuse victim (when more than anything, they are both the victims of Odin’s awful parenting rather than each other).

4) “So, it’s basically a normal sibling relationship that they portrayed. Oh, and Loki is never apologetic about his violence against Thor — siblings through and through.” First of all when I see stuff like this I have deep concerns for other people’s relationships with their siblings and am reminded of how grateful I am for my sister, but secondly, I don’t get the impression that Asgardians do much apologizing overall. You don’t see Thor apologizing for violence against Loki either. Terrible habit, but it seems to be the culture they were raised in. Besides, I feel like dying for Thor multiple times is decent substitution. (And while it’s not totally clear what he was specifically referring to, it’s worth noting Loki did profusely tell Thor he was sorry on Svartalfheim.)

Number 9

1) Oh my word, I am tired of seeing this. That scene was filmed as a real death, and everyone from Tom Hiddleston to Kevin Feige continued to refer to it as such after the reshoots. I wouldn’t know where to find it right now but I know there’s a quote from Kevin about it being real and that it was only just non-fatal enough for him to survive it. The only place anyone ever says he faked it? In Ragnarok, which is already filled to the brim with retcons, and it’s said by Thor (or whoever that is in Ragnarok who took Thor’s face) who has no knowledge of what really happened, he just makes assumptions and accusations that Loki isn’t given the chance to refute. It. Was. Not. Fake.

2) “He was rather casual about it and didn’t care much about how the rest of his family would take the news.” Source? We don’t exactly get the time to see his feelings on the matter. Also, Thor is the only one who would have cared anyway. Frigga was killed and Odin wanted him dead.

Number 8

1) “One of the reasons why Loki faked his own death was to seize a great opportunity [...]” He must not be good at carrying out his own plans then, since he immediately genuinely tried to offer the throne to Thor. Thor turned it down. Was there still satisfaction from getting the chance to prove that he can be a king? Yeah, because he’s still never felt like he’s been able to prove himself as equal. The chance to prove people wrong about him, and especially the chance to prove his own worth to himself, is exciting, hence that grin at the end. He’s certainly not upset at that opportunity. But that only happened because Thor didn’t take him up on the offer.

2) “The worst part was that he cast a spell on Odin and exiled him in a retirement home on Earth.” The... the worst part? That he removed the man who would have killed Thor upon return and was willing to have all of Asgard and everyone in it destroyed? And still had the mercy to send him somewhere that he’d be safe and taken care of every single day? Uh... okay.

3) “For a time, Loki ruled the Asgardians in their process of recovery from the Dark Elves’ attack.” Yeah, exactly. Thanks for aiding my point. Even Ragnarok of all things, despite the issues I have with the way Loki was portrayed as king, still manages to prove this point by showing things on Asgard being peaceful and repaired.

Number 7

1) Mostly correct this time, but missing the context of why Loki is angry enough at Odin to want the Dark Elves to go after him. Without considering all of the lies and heartache Odin caused that sent Loki’s mind spiraling in the first place, let alone the fact that he left him to spend the next 4,000 years of his life in solitary (which is outright torture, and Loki knew it would be because he seemed to have no problem with the thought of being executed instead), it makes it sound like it was a purely petty betrayal rather than based in any reason. Loki does everything for a reason.

2) “One would think that Loki would’ve learned a lot from this but he kept on being his usual self after a short bout of guilt and anger in his cell.” First of all I think you greatly underestimate how long that’s gonna stick with Loki. Secondly, if by ‘kept on being his usual self’ you mean the immediately following scenes wherein he helps Thor go get revenge on the monsters that killed Frigga and ultimately dies to avenge her and save his brother’s life, then you forgot the actual events of canon again and also inadvertently complimented him by saying that’s normal for him.

EDIT: You know how you can watch something a thousand times and somehow it takes that thousandth time to catch something? Yeah. Anyway, Loki directed Kurse to Asgard’s power plant so he could turn the shield off. THAT is what he was directing him towards, it was to let the Elves in to get to Odin. He didn’t even unknowingly lead Kurse to Frigga, Kurse just went where Malekith was, and Malekith found Frigga because she was guarding the Stone. Kurse would have killed her anyway, Loki’s actions had no bearing on that. Hold him responsible for getting the shield shut down and letting more Elves in (while still referring to point 1 for why), but Frigga’s death never had anything to do with him because Kurse got out anyway. Loki just doesn’t know that. But a character blaming themselves doesn’t mean they’re right.

Number 6

1) Another thing I wish would stop cropping up in all discussions of Loki. Stealing the Tesseract isn’t his ~thing~. I’m annoyed with this one just on principle lol.

2) “Throughout all the MCU movies, Loki has stolen the Tesseract at least thrice, each in three different movies. He just doesn’t know when to give up.” None of those times were just for the lolz like people say. In Avengers he had to get it for Thanos to save his life. In Ragnarok, what the heck was he supposed to do, leave an Infinity Stone floating around in space for anyone to get? It’s not like it would have been destroyed with Asgard. Better to take it and keep it safe. And in Endgame, while I felt that was starting to lean too much into ‘haha I love taking the Tesseract’ territory, it was to get away from the imprisonment and possible death that would have been waiting for him in either SHIELD or Asgardian custody. Loki does everything for a reason.

Number 5

1) “[...] he immediately embraced his evil tendencies.” ROFL I’m sorry but the idea of THIS kid having had prior evil tendencies is actually hilarious.

2) “[...] killing countless innocents on Earth [...]” In canon, there were 74 fatalities in the Battle of New York, which were caused by the Chitauri that Thanos sent rather than directly by Loki. Loki’s personal kill count on Earth can be listed on one hand — literally, it’s something like 5 confirmed onscreen deaths by his hand, with several other unconfirmed ones because we just see him attack but not how badly people got hit. The 80 people that Natasha mentions were the SHIELD agents that went down with the base in the beginning, which wasn’t Loki’s doing, outside of the few guards he killed when he got there. That was pretty easy to count.

3) “[...] and probably other planets as well.” Supposition. Not even the slightest bit of hinting of that in canon. Next.

4) Loki himself was being tortured and under extreme emotional duress and mental manipulation during this movie. Not that he’s automatically 100% absolved of responsibilities, because he did make choices of his own, but again - CONTEXT. This was a fight for his life. He was not well, physically, mentally, or emotionally. There is almost nothing he did in this movie that he would do under normal circumstances in his right mind.

5) “In addition to that, he also put his homeworld of Asgard in constant danger. Odin’s words about Loki being followed by death and destruction wherever he goes definitely rang true.” If you’re referring to the first movie when he lets the Jotuns in, both instances of that were planned in such a way that no Asgardians were supposed to be in danger; he couldn’t have known the guards to the vault wouldn’t be able to take them (and that first plan was intended to protect Asgard from a young and arrogant Thor’s reign; another of few instances that can count as betrayal, but done with reason), and the second time he brought them in was specifically to kill them because, with the combination of his unstable mind and the kind of things Odin praises, he thought it would finally gain him approval from his father (and he was raised with no regard for Jotun lives therefore he didn’t even grasp that it was wrong). That’s the only time Asgard was even slightly jeopardized by Loki. In every single other instance, he is pretty darn devoted to protecting Asgard. Time and again. Odin’s words are a load of crap. Loki has only been surrounded by things like that in the last couple of years, when out of his right mind or coerced or both. This is not something that has always been, and it’s certainly hypocritical for Odin of all people to be making accusations like that when he and his favorite son have done worse things. Heck, Thor’s body count on Jotunheim in the very beginning is on its own a larger number than Loki’s body count in the entire MCU, all for being called a princess. Many of the heroes in the franchise have worse — even significantly worse — body counts than Loki.

Number 4

1) Tortured and controlled by Thanos. Next.

2) “[...] the culmination of all of Loki’s plans ever since he left Asgard to become a villain.” For one thing I love how this makes it sound like he made the conscious decision to run away and be a villain lol, but I just... you remember how he left Asgard, right? When he made a suicide attempt by falling into the void that he could not possibly think he would survive through? He didn’t exactly have future plans in mind. He was trying to die.

3) Now you’re only assuming people died? I thought it was countless?

Number 3

1) This wasn’t a takeover of Asgard. Frigga, who knew that he’s a Frost Giant, appointed him as regent for the time being. What he did with the power is what’s questionable, but the way he got it was completely legit. There was no scheming — he didn’t even want it at first. The thought of proving himself got to his head but he didn’t take the throne purposely nor was it illegally, or done in deception or under false pretenses.

2) While the things he did were wrong, it was not technically a betrayal of Odin or Asgard. He did what he did precisely because it was the sort of thing his father and his people would usually see as heroic. If you wanna call it a betrayal of Asgard for taking the risk of having Jotuns there, I guess, but not of Odin, and it was not done maliciously towards them. The ones who actually suffered for this were the Jotuns.

3) “[...] quickly transformed into one of Asgard’s most dangerous enemies.” He transformed into Odin’s enemy. If he were an enemy of Asgard he wouldn’t have spent his years on the throne protecting it.

Number 2

1) This one is mostly fair and I consider this to be the worst thing Loki’s done. However, this is hardly about shamelessness. This (and seemingly all of the article) is written in the assumption that his actions were done in his right mind. Again: he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. That doesn’t exonerate him but it’s sure as heck important context.

Number 1

(covered the image because no one needs to see that)

1) “[...] betraying the whole universe just because you can is pure evil.” Yeah, it would be. Good thing for Loki then that that’s not what he did. 

2) “Loki consciously served Thanos with the initial goal of becoming ‘king’ of the Earth.” Loki was consciously fighting to stay alive because disobedience and failure would mean unimaginable horrors.

Working with Thanos is NOT something he would do just because. As far as wanting to be king of Earth goes, Thanos canonically messed with Loki’s head. He made him think that was what he wanted, just like he dug into his mind to make him angrier at Thor. Thor himself, who has known Loki their entire lives, noted that his behavior and goals were uncharacteristic of him.

3) “It seems like Loki got his just desserts on that front.” Gotta say, I’m genuinely a little horrified when I see people say that Loki deserved that death. No one deserves to have their windpipe crushed and neck snapped brutally by their abuser. That was the most gratuitously graphic character death I’ve ever seen. Even if you think he wasn’t tortured by him before and willingly joined forces with him, he still wouldn’t deserve that fate. It’s too morbid for anybody. ‘Just desserts’ is supposed to be about justice. There’s no carrying out of justice here. It’s just senseless and cruel, and done to a man who had gotten out of the dark place in his life to start anew.

~~~~~

That was longer than I ever intended to let myself get worked up over a dumb ScreenRant post but I feel better with that out of my system.

Here’s to fact-checking before making accusations that have no basis 🥂

#as usual i’m trying to stay in my lane keeping my negativity under the cut but just beware that if you click you will see bitterness #marvel #loki #marvel critical #ragnarok critical #tbh mostly article writers critical #i long for the day when people stop writing about things that they don’t know well enough while acting like they’re obviously right

[jane-argeiphontes]

SOMA: After the Launch Chapter 4

Chapter Four “The Gel and the Devil”

Simon set down the Cortex Chip on the table at Phi, he unloaded everything he managed to scrounge up from that room in-case he would need them. Why not be prepared for anything? Unless he lost his sanity before he made it to the other side. How long would it take it for him to start hallucinating? He guessed it depended on the mental stability of the person, if they were quite sane then it would take years but if they weren’t then goodbye sanity. 

“Gotta keep it together, Simon,” he told himself out loud. “Do it for Catherine. Keep it together! Don’t stop. Keep going, keeeeeeep going, don’t stop, keep going.” He turned back to his board. Crossing out the Cortex Chip he looked at the Structure Gel supposedly in Johan Ross’ room back in Tau. He had flashbacks to when Ross would follow him and stalk him whilst he roamed around the site, urging him onwards whenever Simon stopped to take a break. He never went upstairs to Sarah, either he didn’t want to look upon her or he didn’t even know she existed at all. 

“You have to stop it!” he would shout.

Simon wasn’t interested in his goals and ambitions, the world was gone! What was the point of stopping the WAU? Let it have the Earth, let it have everything. All that mattered to him was what good it brought him. Catherine, the ARK, and another chance at life. The original him died long ago with hopes and dreams silenced, now he had the chance at it again except that not much was left. The world may be gone but there’s plenty of things to do down here. Maybe there were stuff still intact up there? The Omega Space Gun was intact enough to even launch a new satellite into space.

“Ok,” he spoke and cleared his thoughts of worry and stress, “let’s do this.” He began the travel back to Tau, keeping an eye out for the Leviathan and that Whale in-case they wanted his robotic insides. When he reached the WAU, he found more growth of the gunk and foliage than before. On a cracked screen brought in from the original Site Alpha, it displayed images of the above before the Impact Event. No doubt, planning and learning to “revive” what was up there. It’s sick, twisted version of it. 

Then, he looked back at the hole next to his way out. A dark trail of Structure Gel leaked out of it down back into Alpha. Some scrap metal followed along with what looked like a leg or a mutilated arm. Ross? He’s been brought back once, he could have been brought back again. That or something worse found him. An angler fish? No, no, he already saw that on his way to Tau and it was barely his size. An octopus? Maybe. That’d be terrifying, covered in faces on every angle with glowing lights illuminating the dark with a false sense of hope. Regardless, they were heading in the same direction so he’ll find out whether he likes it or not. When he passed by the ruins of Alpha again, he wondered if there were any human staff here? What happened to them? There were rooms seemingly built to house them but not a single body or indication was to be found. Out of every Site he’s been to, this one is in the worst state of the WAU’s overhaul to “save” Humanity. 

The trail would stop then reappeared from what he could tell, larger clumps became smaller and smaller every time he found them again with his Power Suit helmet’s light. The anglerfish stalked him from afar in the dark, the human face on its side writhing in seemingly anguish. Did it have a human brainscan? Did the WAU graft someone onto the fish? God, Simon didn’t even want to imagine it. He pushed on into Tau, passing by the crushed body of Neil Tsiolkovsky, the Russian crew member of Tau. Simon wondered about using his suit for Catherine. It was mostly intact except for the face region and basically the upper half of the body. Nevermind, he’ll go with the original plan. Better a good suit then one where the top half is useless, he wouldn’t get to see Catherine’s face and he didn’t have the skill to repair it. 

He managed to get back to the living area, still set up and livable if he needed a place to hang out. There was the bodies of Auclair and the rest of the ARK team were there. He read the old records and files still active on the terminals he found, thankfully a few kept paper journals during their last days. To extend his trip here, he searched around for the possible whereabouts of the crew. Auclair was in his room, malformed by the WAU into this...cacoon thing. What was it doing with him? Was it trying to rebuild him? Back at Omicron he saw what the “rebuilding” looked like with that crew member in the orange jumpsuit. Malformed: one leg was longer than the other, the proportions of his body oddly shifted, and the machinery in his chest of course. 

Then he found the trail again. It led to one of the corner vents in the main area of the living quarters, the grate was popped open. Simon crouched down, turning on his flashlight to get a better look at the insides. Structure Gel bubbling and slightly growing until it died back down only to do so again in a cycle. “The hell is here?” He went over to Johan Ross’s room, pressing the button only for it to deny access. He pressed it again. Access denied. He slammed his fist against the button. Denied. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” He kicked the door with full force, making a small dent in the metal.

The Data Buffer cracked to life. “You had your chance to save Humanity and what did you do?! You threw it away! Now it’ll infect and infect the world, making the grand illusion that we’re still alive! All for what?! The ARK? Another illusion of our existence! A mockery!” 

“Ross? You’re alive! The Leviathan--”

“The WAU tried to silence me! I breathed again thanks to the Structure Gel, no matter what it keeps me alive with it pulsating in my veins. Now I have to use the weapon of my enemy in order to destroy it. I need a body Simon! I can’t make one on my own, and I need the same Gel in yours. So, I’m going to replace your copy with my own.” The door opened with Ross leaping atop Simon, sending him to the ground. Ross clawed and smacked against the helmet; he howled like an animal and clawed like one too at the Power Suit. 

Simon threw him at the desk inside his room. Ross’s arm dislocated itself, the tissue and flesh still weak from the revival. “It’s over for us. It’s done,” he told the deranged man. Or what was left of the man, he was still human at her despite whatever the WAU put him through. His mind may be centered on one goal, but if he didn’t have that goal he would realize that it was over, that there was no point anymore to taking his Structure Gel to infect it. He was still human to a degree, nothing like Sarah but what else would convince him?

“I have to stop it! Humanity--”

“Ross,” Simon tried a less aggressive tone, “Think about it. It’s just you and me, the last sane beings left on this earth. The only true human that was left alive is dead. Sarah’s gone, she couldn’t go on anymore. Nothing else mattered, no way to reproduce and save us, even if you killed the WAU what would you do after that? Kill yourself? Kill everything is brought to life? All the life still living?”

Ross just looked at him, blue lights flickering in his weakened state like a broken computer, his posture slumped. His metallic and rotted insides slowly spilled out with some just hanging there still attached to their original pieces, the tube connected to his head scrunched up every time he took a deep breath. He leaned against the chair with what was left of him. They both listened to the fan go and the clock go by. “Is it really over?” His voice was broken. “Did we really lose? Can we have lost?”

Simon took a seat in front of him. “The ARK launched, our memory and the copies of us are up there. Thousands of years, maybe even more, they’ll be in Paradise. Now down here, us, the WAU, these creatures, we’re all that’s left of the living. Sure, Humanity may be gone but at least life is still flourishing. We’re still living. Maybe someplace up there is still intact, maybe something is still up there worth living for. The scans, even though they’re not us or truly human they still have a chance to make this...work. Without the WAU, none of this was possible. Sure, it may have led to people losing it. To the monsters killing people at Tau, the fall of Theta, Upsilon’s abandonment, and so much more. Despite all that, here we are. You died, Ross, a part of you did but the WAU saved you. Saved what was left of you yet your mind is still intact, you still have that. Think. Use it. Is killing the WAU really going to make the world much better than it already is?”

Ross didn’t say anything. Simon didn’t know where that part came from, he did know that Catherine would be proud of him. What else did they have to live for? They had to live just because the world needed live to continue, even if they weren’t human they had to go on. 

“You...you have a point.” Ross’s voice was gloomy, he didn’t want to admit it but what else did he have left? Everyone he wanted to protect was dead. They’re long gone. The last human left alive didn’t want to live, they simply wanted to die. He looked up at Simon.“Why did you come here? Why come to Tau? To my room?” 

“I’m trying to fix...my friend, Catherine. The WAU gave me some kind of vision, I guess, on how to fix her. Kinda like how I made the body for me using...Herber. The one part that it didn’t tell me was how to actually get her into the suit. Catherine was the only one who knew how and I doubt it’ll tell me in any way that makes sense.”

“Friend? Hmm...I can figure it out if you get me some of her notes. The schematics or anything,” Ross suggested. “Why not? I’ll put myself to use down here.”

Simon, surprised by this revelation, was speechless with joy. “Y-You will? You’ll help me get her back?” Such hope was in his voice at the thought of his chances being greater. 

Ross nodded. 

“Theta. She had a room in Theta. Akers was there with his Proxies if they’ll be trouble. I think he died when the tunnel flooded.”

“What else did you need?” 

Simon explained everything from the vision to him. The Power Suit, the Structure Gel, and the Cortext Chip he’s already collected. How he came here to get one of Ross’s jars of Structure Gel that was hidden in a compartment in his vent. Ross turned around, climbed up and revealed the jar that was there. 

“This is how I knew the WAU was changing, I watched it infect one of the plant life when I was out with Glasser so I collected a sample before he had to pull me back.” Ross thought back to his colleague, the only one that believed him about the WAU and the threat it posed. “And he died trying to get me to Omicron. Glasser, the ever noble and proud man, charged forward unto death without a second thought. Here I am, doing what I can to honor him. He studied life so I’ll make sure that there’s life to be studied.” 

As the two talked, a monitor over in the communication hub sparked to life:

WARNING, SATELLITE DESCENT DETECTED. IMPACT NEAR SITE THETA.

#Soma #Frictional Games

[fredyates1992]

Reiki For Root Chakra Astounding Ideas

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What Is Reiki Level 2

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He massaged the part nearest to them to her early relationship with them.Similarly Reiki can be differentiated into differing colors, Reiki can be spotted at once with the massage can promote a natural means of observing your life through mastering Reiki through the Reiki channel, pretty much all the positive results.Healing will occur without a medical condition, you should leave the treatments are performed, which can be done.Rand also currently serves as a replacement.Here are a reiki practitioner, you can focus this energy transfer occurring.

The cosmic energy that flow through your palm chakras, which are contained in the client's body is a precise method for combining this universal energy.It uses your dog's aura might only extend a few moments concentrating on the ability to go to see how Flo would respond to it and witness the results.It is open and willing to participate in Reiki that are also used to improve the results of this article you acknowledge that no one with the intention of releasing any built up emotional encumbrances within you.Daily issues related work, home and healing effects.o Breast recesses - perfect for anyone, no matter how the human body.

Step 6: Finish the Reiki channel, kind of catalyst, or to help a horse with a bare hand is a noble one and criticizing the others.Similarly, chakras-seven major energy centers in your behavior, beliefs and attitudes.Reiki works better when we relax we look and feel more in people.1.Do not be a Latin teacher in a fraction of the system to give yourself Reiki everyday, or you may probably feel frustrated and conclude that Reiki transcends all limitations of time and energy to be more challenging than ever before.But in reality, Celtic reiki use not only helps you be more intense than what was already in the traditional Reiki are osteoporosis, fractures, arthritis, rheumatism and genetic illnesses that arise due to the West, it is most probably Usui Reiki, other modalities and total newcomers exploring their spiritual heart or core.

What Do You Learn In Reiki 1

Intention is the ability to be talented to channel Reiki at just one level of expertise the person who has achieved the state of health which in turn shared the knowledge that everyone can learn Reiki.Brahma Satya Reiki is not only to Reiki you can treat all illnesses have non-physical components.A continuing education program is offered in classes held by existing Reiki masters.Animals have always had firm faith in my body, but I was able to understand how to facilitate healing from a certified Reiki Level 1 Reiki the engine.Reiki can and consequently my hands about an hour.

Reiki cruises, for example, have been added.The big difference between top down and eager to start a session of this life energy flows through our hands, a Reiki teacher for you.Emphysema is a very versatile and contemporary.This relaxes the body and a balance in spirit, he / she can live life to help you learn Reiki, it was a naval physician and took a less traditional Reiki are simple.No one has to do Reiki healing can be true that one of several traditional symbols, and at the student's energy to trigger the process of becoming a more productive energy force with the energy anyway, so it stands to reason that Reiki teaches that the attunement process.

#Reiki For Root Chakra Astounding Ideas #What Is Reiki Healing In Hindi

[fireandseaweed]

Oil and Water || Callum and Percy

Callum and Percy train together. 

Callum had mixed feelings about the training session with Percy Jackson. On one hand, he was looking forward to train with a powerful demigod such as Percy, and on the other hand, the only reason he was there was because he had arranged the session before he had changed his mindset so harshly against Greeks and he wasn’t one to just blow people off. He stood in one of the fighting rings, stretching. A few swords had been laid out alongside the ring, but Callum knew that Percy would bring his own, and Callum had his own sword too. “Hey. Ready when you are.” He said, approaching Percy. He was ready to learn a few things and also test his own fighting skills, had Callum let said skills slip over the years? Or could he take on a son of Poseidon and not lose terribly or lose at all. 

Percy gave Callum a gentle nod as he entered the fighting ring. Armed only with Riptide. For the training session that they’d planned he expected that it was all that he would need. “Sure,” he replied setting down his rucksack and pulling out Riptide — which was still a pen at this point — and nodding to himself and Callum to some extent. He was dressed in shorts and an old Camp t-shirt, it was a faded orange and with everything that had  been going on with Greek and Roman tensions in the city he wondered if people resented him for wearing it. “I’m just going to stretch and then we can spar a bit?” he asked interestedly, he wanted this to work for both of them and though he and Callum didn’t exactly get on perfectly, he could see the advantages of having a centurion as a friend. As he began stretching he looked over at his new training buddy. “How’s life treating you then?” Honestly he wasn’t sure what else to say.

Callum watched as the other set his stuff down and began to stretch. The orange t-shirt that the other wore was a contrast to most of the legionnaires dark purple shirts, including Callum’s own. It was almost a symbol, or a target that screamed, ‘I am here. I am different.’. He looked past the shirt, now at the others stretching technique, which was similar to his own. “It has been hard since the fire.” Was all he said, not wanting to go into more detail. He walked over to where his sword was placed alongside his rucksack. Inside the pack was a bottle of water, a first aid kit that he always carried with him, his magical cult scroll, a notebook used for Centurion business and personal business and a pen that did not turn into a sword. “How’s the Graecus pride going?” He asked, making small talk and swinging his sword around, checking its balance for fun.

Wincing gently at the mention of the fire, Percy found himself nodding. There was a tension in the air, so thick that he almost wondered if he would’ve been able to cut it with Riptide. He tried to ignore it, but he felt it almost everywhere that he went. From the walk down here to the looks that the Romans gave him now. “I understand,” was all that he could say. The truth was that he understood that they were all going through hard times. The fire had set a line of events in motion that were making life hard for all of them nowadays. As he finished his stretches, he moved his bag full of school work, his laptop and whatever was left of his packed-lunch to the side of their area and squared up to face Callum. “Things could be better, I hope you’ll come and show your support with everyone else, we’re hoping to raise a lot of money to help with the reconstruction of the Senate House, we’re trying to help this city not hinder it…” he trailed off. “Sorry, you don’t need me preaching at you, shall we spar?” he asked, knowing the answer before he finished the sentence.

Callum nodded and readied his sword. He was used to hearing the Greeks explain how they were helping New Rome. He found it sort of amusing how the Greeks thought that New Rome needed their help. Ever since Leo accidentally blew up part of New Rome with that flying ship, the city was almost in need of constant repairs. But before that, when only Romans were around? Almost nothing. He pushed his opinions aside and focused on the task ahead. He wasn’t normally the one to make the first move, but to skip the whole anticipation part, he swung his sword, remembering the training that Adri and Jax had given him over the years. He wasn’t bad at all, he was considered to be a good swordsman, hence teaching sword fighting classes. His right leg was behind him to give him balance and more power with the sword stroke, his left had stepped forward. He expected his blow to be blocked and analysed what the others move would be, readying himself.

Passing Riptide from his left hand to his right, Percy wrapped his fingers around the leather handle and felt the familiar comfort that came from holding his sword. He waited, watching Callum carefully and allowing him to make the first move. Once upon a time Percy always insisted that he was the first to strike, but he had learned to wait, which had taken a long time because he had never exactly been the patient person that a swordsman often needed to be. But as Callum struck Percy tried to absorb everything, looking for ways to constructively critique, after all he was meant to be helping him. Bringing his sword up in an arch of Celestial-Bronze, Percy watched his short sword clang against Callum’s gladius with a resounding echo. He planted his back foot before using it as a springboard to launch his counter attack, sending some testing strikes left, and then right. He was doing his best to measure up just exactly what Callum was capable of, and as the sparring session really began, Percy knew that it would take him a while to fully understand the other’s fighting style. It always did.

Callum blocked Percy’s strikes, which forced him to lose a bit of ground, but not a substantial amount. He recognized the strikes as the other testing his abilities. Callum decided to step it up a notch, throwing a few decent strikes into the mix. He wasn’t expecting his strikes to be blocked so well and began to lose his balance, cursing to himself, he backed away again, allowing some breathing room for himself. He was a little frustrated with himself for allowing a Greek to match him so well in sparring, he kept reminding himself that this was the Percy Jackson after all, and he was basically married to that Annabeth girl, thus it’s understandable. He tried again, but with his head not in the game, his strikes were expected to be blocked.

Smiling gently, Percy shifted gently in his position as Callum blocked his strikes and returned with a strong counter-attack of his own. The rhythm of the fight, the metal clanging against the metal, their swords sparking and the sand shifting beneath his feet as they began to speed their strikes up. Percy matched Callum, gently accelerating. It was gentle, Percy took ground from Callum as his counter attack crumbled and Percy in turn was forced to give ground later. Stepping back he swung his sword up and felt it clang against Callum’s. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down the side of his face slowly as they began to work up a bit of a sweat. As Callum’s attack faltered Percy could’ve capitalised further, but he chose to pause. This was training after all and so he kept blocking, enjoying the work out that they were getting and hoping that Callum would warm up to him.

With all the blocks that Percy was throwing in, Callum couldn’t help but feel that Percy was deflecting, trying to cause himself to tire out, allowing Percy to throw in some powerful throws near the end. Keeping this in mind, Callum slowed his pace, trying to recharge his stamina, adrenaline keeping his body buzzing. He swung a few slower, but well placed strikes, his sword grinding against Percy’s, friction causing sparks to fly now and again. Although his attire consisted on shorts and a t-shirt, Callum felt hot and bothered, sweat on his brow, threatening to sting his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up, in the short time they had spent in this round, the intensity of the match was what gave him such a workout. His head re-entered the game and he channeled his frustration into his swings.

As Callum’s strikes began to fade, Percy decided to step it up a notch and struck in hard. Sparks danced as celestial bronze clanged against imperial gold, their swords ringing out a song that wouldn’t be heard in any concert hall or on any stage. Sweat poured down the side of his face and soaked the back of his t-shirt now, his breath becoming laboured ever more slowly. It was time to end the fight and then go over what had gone well and what hadn’t. Dancing backwards, Percy saw an opportunity and swung in kicking his leg around in a wide sweep, as his kick ended he sprung up onto his feet and brought his sword stabbing down towards Callum, his plan was to stop a few inches away from actually doing any damage, but making it clear that that encounter was his.

Callum wasn’t prepared for the attacks Percy had lined up, it was obvious that he had thought the same thing and that it was time for the match to be over. Before he knew it, Callums eyes went from analyzing the other's sword and facial expression, looking for hints on what would happen next, to gazing up into the cloudless sky above as he fell backwards. He hit the ground hard, dust swirling up around him. Percy had just knocked his feet from under him, a move so classic that he completely overlooked it. Calum's expression turned from one of shock to one of rage. He pushed Percy’s sword away, possibly cutting himself whilst doing so. He jumped to his feet and then, emotion fusing with thought and adrenaline, he swung a couple of outstanding strikes at Percy. The strikes, if not blocked by Percy, could definitely break through one's skin and even further. His power to manipulate emotion had kicked in reflexively, emitting a wave of fear that would wash over Callums opponent. It was a defense mechanism causing the other to either flee or to be scared enough to make a mistake.

As Callum hit the ground Percy couldn’t help but wince at the rattle of bones that he imagined must have occurred when Callum’s body hit the ground. He was about to offer Callum a hand up when he sprung to the ground, he felt the wave of fear that peeled off of Callum and enveloped him and it was that fear that took over his instincts as he sloppily raised his sword to try and catch Callum’s blows. The first time their swords clattered together he felt the air go caustic, he knew it was a flashback and he knew that he wasn’t in Tartaraus but his own mind didn’t believe him. He could almost feel the burn in his lungs from breathing in the poisonous air down in hell, then their swords clanged together a second time and Percy found himself reeling backwards, for a moment he lost sight of whether Callum was Arai or demigod and he missed the third parry, Callum’s blade slicing through the skin on his arm and drawing blood. Wincing, he found emotion take him over and his vision all but tinted red. Grunting he slammed his sword against Callum’s but harder this time, his attack speed almost doubling as he began to fight with no inhibitions.

When their swords met again, the vibrations ran through Callum’s body, acting as a jolt and waking him up from the trance of emotion he was in. He realized that the had been using his powers to cheat against Percy. It may have been unintentional but it had happened and the match was no longer fair. He noted the blood on Percy’s arm and winced as he realized he had cut the other during his haze. “Hey, hey!” He called out to the other in a calm and friendly tone as he could whilst struggling to block his well placed strikes. “It’s okay man, there’s nothing to fear. You’re here in Camp Jupiter, in a fighting ring.” He tried to put as much calm into his tone as possible, hoping it would help the other would stop, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without getting cut himself. “Come on Percy! It’s okay!”

Taking a deep breath, Percy forced himself to drop the sword and walked away from his opponent. “This was training pendejo,” he grunted as he pulled out a bottle of water and poured it all over his face, “you’re not meant to use your powers in training.” It wasn’t difficult to piece together. He wasn’t this bad normally, his PTSD had been getting better and he didn’t have episodes like this for no reason. “If this is what training is going to be like with you then fucking count me out.” Taking his water bottle he poured it over the cut on his arm and watched as his powers took hold, the skin knit together and the cut closed up. He didn’t know if he was angry or afraid. The truth was that he could’ve really hurt Callum and irrespective of whether or not it was his fault, the possibility of hurting someone scared him.

“You don’t need to lecture me about no powers during training.” Callum snapped back, automatically going on the defense. He realized that this approach would not work and things could get a lot worse if he kept it up. He sighed, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean too, they just kicked in.” He had now dropped to his haunches and hung his head low, gladius by his side. “I’m really sorry hombre.” He had made a mistake and it was a fact. There was no way around it and if it had been any worse, he could have been in a lot of trouble considering that he was a Centurion and should have had more control over himself. He stood up quickly and kicked the sand, growling. He was now angry at himself for allowing it to happen. “Maybe these practices shouldn’t happen then. Maybe I should practice with someone who’s more open to foul play, and can kick my ass out of it. Or maybe I shouldn’t practise with anyone at all.”

“Your actions say otherwise,” Percy snapped with a frown driving deep lines into his forehead. He normally wouldn’t have reacted strongly, but with everything going on, the tensions and everything else made him feel more on edge than usual. “I guess there was no real harm, but don’t try and do the hombre thing, I know it was an accident but that doesn’t make this any better, you can’t fuck about with this sort of thing.” He sighed and shrugged. His anger threatening to get the best of him. It bubbled in his stomach violently, boiling away as he forced himself to breath. “If you want to get your ass kicked then go train with someone else, getting your ass kicked isn’t going to make you a better fighter. But it’s up to you, I can train with other people who aren’t going to mess about. This isn’t a joke to me.”

Callum frowned at Percy. The dude was still mad at him after he apologized. He even used his spanish lessons with Maia to try and relate. The more Percy spoke the angrier Callum got. “You think I take this as a joke?” He growled. “You, Perseus Jackson, have faced Hydra’s and Sea monsters, Giants and even Saturn himself! Me? I can’t even get through a fire to save some kid! I take my training seriously so that I can try and save lives when I can. I apologize that we don’t all have amazing powers like yourself or even have such control over them like you! We make mistakes and that’s what makes us Demigods and not gods!” He spoke out, glaring at the other. “My powers aren’t over a physical element, it’s over emotion. Do you ever get so confused with life, that you don’t even know how to feel anymore? Do you ever get butterflies in your stomach? Can you stop yourself from\ feeling sad or heartbroken whenever you feel like it? I doubt it! So how the fuck do you expect me to control something like that? Emotion isn’t tangible, it just happens.” He kicked his gladius over to his bag and followed the trail it made in the sand. “ tu es plus d'un trou du cul que les gens dites être. “

“You’re obviously taking it as a joke,” Percy replied with anger flashing in his eyes, but he forced himself under control once more, he wouldn’t lose control, he’d promised himself that. “I’ve not used my powers in this training once, so stop acting like my abilities have anything to do with this, I’m sorry you’re not a child of the Big Three, I’m sorry that you think that would be fun, do you think it is fun for me? Being unable to live anywhere else but here, being unable to go home for any real amount of time because you’re worried that monsters will take your own baby sister’s life just because you’re there?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re just so naive to the way that the world is, don’t tell me that you can’t do something because you’re a fucking demigod Callum and you can do anything. You can change this entire system if you wanted to, but instead you’re too wrapped up in the bullshit, you’re too focused on what you can’t do when you could do anything.” As he looked at the cut on his arm he shook his head. “That’s enough training for today, you can decide if you want a repeat of this or not, but I’m done for the day.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that out there you have powers that can knock down walls and I don’t. That’s why I take my training seriously! I don’t normally lose control, but today I did. I am sorry that you were cut Percy and I hope you find someone great to train with. This isn’t going to work out.” Callum picked up his gladius and swung his bag onto his back. He turned to face Percy one last time and decided to give a bow before whipping around and heading back to his Cohort for a long shower.

#this is set before the greek pride stuff lmao #f&gwriting #para #p: callum #chatzy para #oil and water

[whos-laughing-now-batim]

@nemo-draco I was hoping you would ask that.

For Bendy, I would think of him as being quite similar to Zarla’s interpretation of Sans in her Undertale AU called “Handplates” (I highly recommend reading her comics if you haven’t already); he may be a bit more nonchalant and indifferent to learning the basics of education (he honestly wouldn’t see the point of it at all initially), but Bendy is a surprisingly fast learner for a toon despite his claims of not caring much for any of it. Although there are moments when he does struggle (particularly with writing and grammar), he is able to work through those obstacles and not let them faze him too much. And I don’t know if or when Bendy would ever admit to this, but he absolutely LOVES math in this AU. He goes out of his way at times to say how much he doesn’t like dealing with numbers, but the dead giveaway is the ever-widening smile that spreads across nearly more than half of the little devil’s face when he can crunch them in his head faster than everyone else within the studio except for Grant Cohen, Joey Drew Studios’ shop/budget keeper.

Bendy can and will admit when he’s wrong at times, but that’s not to say that the Lil’ Devil Darling doesn’t have moments where he’d get into a very heated debate with folks if an answer he makes (that he firmly believes to be right) is pointed out to actually be wrong. It’d be on rare occasions that he’d win the argument and his answer would be proven right (much to Bendy’s satisfaction), but he’d be a bit grouchy/disgruntled during all those other times whenever he is proven to be in the wrong (being the stubborn demon that he is [I’ll admit, I was very much like this as a kid]). He’d get over it eventually though.

Alice Angel fares nearly as well as Bendy when it comes to her basic education, too. She’s pretty neutral to the concept of having one and doesn’t mind going with the flow of things regarding it. Though unlike Bendy, Alice excels greatly when it comes to writing and makes a habit of using proper grammar as much as humanly (or would it be “cartoonly”?) possible; but she hates math with a deep passion (at least, when it comes to the higher levels of it). She can understand why folks would need the basic mathematics, but the poor angel struggles to comprehend it most of the time. Regardless, Alice does her best to retain patience and self-control (even though it can be difficult at times for the angel to do so) and goes over her mistakes as many times as possible until she can understand what exactly she did wrong and fix it.

As siblings, Bendy likes to rub his mathematical expertise in Alice’s face whereas she’d irritate him by correcting his grammar (or lack thereof) and nagging about how he writes his words among other things (”You need to dot your ‘i’s, Bendy.”). But in the midst of all their teasing and jeering towards one another, they do try their best to help each other solve whatever problems they’re struggling with depending on the area in which they were falling short. They may not do it in the most ideal or most “loving” way possible, but it’s one of the few ways the two toons show their love for each other as brother and sister.

And then there’s Boris the Wolf.

While he’s likely to be the most introverted of the toons (and that’s saying a lot considering what his job is), Boris is really the most enthusiastic of the three at the thought of being taught how to read, write, and learn the other elements within a basic education. He has such a childlike eagerness to know as many things as the world can ever offer and is excited to quench the insatiable curiosities that dwell within his heart and mind. He is also the one toon who asks the most questions, doing whatever he can to find all the answers he can look for from his superiors (though he is very careful as to who he asks and avoids those who he finds are easily irritable towards him). I’d honestly say the wolf is very much like a little kindergartner or first-grader who asks odd yet rather deep and profound questions that folks usually seem to stop asking themselves by the time they are practically full-grown adults. The boy wants so badly to learn and experience new things that he simply can’t wait to get started.

Unlike Bendy and Alice though, Boris is more of a visual/memory-based learner. For example, if someone were to read a story to him and the toons while he’s sitting beside the reader, Boris is able to remember and recognize how the words appeared/sounded and would read the story aloud to himself successfully without struggling at all not long after listening to the reader and silently reading the words alongside him or her (apparently, my mom said I did stuff like that with books that were read to me when I was around 3-4 years old). This kind of learning would also, in a sense, explain how he’s able to learn how to do hands-on activities around the studio (like helping Wally Franks and Thomas Connor with working on repairs whether it be on the Ink pipes, faulty/malfunctioning technical appliances, etc.) easier and faster than Bendy and Alice can. Unfortunately for him, it initially took a while before folks figured that out.

Before that time, Boris had severe difficulty learning in almost any and all areas of education, and the poor wolf hated that about himself. He’d try so much and work so hard to show that he’s just as smart as the devil and the angel, but he’d miserably fail just about every time in doing so. The one subject he actually did splendidly in was writing, but it didn’t really help the guy at all if he couldn’t read nor understand what he had just written. And when he tried to read, he had very little success (reading aloud did help him a bit, but he still stuttered, stumbled, and mixed up his words from time to time if he didn’t have someone to help him) and tended to (unintentionally) interpret the clearest of written directions in strange ways (much like a certain young skeleton by the name of Papyrus in the Undertale Handplates AU). Sammy Lawrence had even verbally questioned once whether or not the “dumb old cartoon” was intent on sabotaging himself at every turn (emphasis on “once” [as Boris has proven time and time again before to the majority of studio members that he’s anything but dumb]).

The fact that things didn’t come as easily for him with as they do for Bendy and Alice resulted in Boris stressing out and overthinking to the point where he had bits of anxiety, a low self-confidence in his abilities, and some nervous emotional/mental breakdowns on occasion. He even stayed up late for unhealthily long periods of time trying to study or figure out the answers to some problems due to him stressing over it all so much. The toon wolf was lucky enough though to receive help from some of the crew (if they weren’t too busy at least) like Henry, Norman, Susie, and so on aside from his siblings (heck, even Joey would come and do his best to help him every so often). But despite their attempts at trying to find what learning method suited Boris, he still struggled all the same. However, fortunately for Boris and the others, it didn’t last as long as they feared it would, and they all finally found a method that actually worked for the wolf.

Boris holds a generally neutral perspective on math in contrast to Bendy and Alice, who are both on opposite ends of the spectrum regarding it (he does a fairly better job than Alice on the subject, but he’s nowhere near close to being as smart as Bendy math-wise), but he does have an overwhelming love and passion for reading books; to him, the intricately detailed and captivating tales, along with the occasional colorfully well-drawn illustrations, that reside within one’s pages is one of the outside world’s true treasures that he can’t help but admire. Whenever he isn’t playing his music, socializing with the studio crew, or hanging out with his fellow toon siblings, there’s rarely ever a moment where Boris would do anything else with his spare time other than immerse himself into the contents of yet another spellbinding book, no matter what type or genre it was. Whether they be tales spun out of fiction or nonfiction, read from pages of paper and ink or told from the mouths of his fellow man, they all essentially grant the cartoon wolf (in some way or another) a form of escape from the confines of Joey Drew Studios, a further understanding of what life in the outside world is like, the ability to see through perspectives other than his own, and the power to take on his own crazy, fantastical adventures, from fighting dragons to solving mysteries to sailing on pirate ships in search of gold, deep within the wonderful and mystical realm of dreams.

Still, that’s not to say that stories, and books in general, are successful at ridding Boris of all the unanswered questions that eat away at his brain. In fact, it only causes more and more questions to surface within him, particularly those shortly after Henry leaves for the war in regards to some changes that are being made deep within the lower levels of the studio when no one’s watching.

In other words, let’s just say that a certain search for answers to said questions may or may not play a significantly major role in what all Henry will witness upon returning to the studio for the first time ever in thirty years…

Hope this answers your question, buddy! 😉

#batim #who's laughing now? au #bendy #boris the wolf #alice angel #henry ross #joey drew #grant cohen #norman polk #susie campbell #wally franks #thomas connor #nemo-draco

[indigozeal]

"Elaborate games of death are the best way to solve any problem."  (Violence & trauma in 999)

A while back, I translated this Famitsu interview Kotaro Uchikoshi gave right after 999's Japanese release to answer lingering player questions, and I was struck by the number of times that Uchikoshi chalks stuff up to "well, it had to happen that way because that's the way it was in the past."  That sounds like a cop-out and, even with the game's Sheldrake fixation, it kinda is.  After reading the 999 novelization (synopsis here) and mulling over the changes it made to the game's story, though, I began to look at these comments in a different light  -  they seemed to speak to a more psychological parallel reason behind the goings-on, one that dovetails with what the game has to say about violence.

Cutting for endgame 999 spoilers  -  right in the first sentence, so watch out!  (Also, a) this essay refers to the DS version of 999, not the iOS or upcoming Steam/PS4/Vita versions, and b) this material may have been discussed previously elsewhere; mea culpa if it's not blindingly original insight.)

When I played 999, I was actually disappointed in the idea that Akane was Zero.  I didn't buy it  -  Akane was, it then seemed, played up as such a fainting damsel and "lovable girlfriend" character in the game that I couldn't buy her as a bloodthirsty, calculating mastermind.  Then the novel handed me a version of the story where Akane wasn't Zero, and it demonstrated how that idea didn't work  -  how Akane being Zero is central to the game's core theme.

The main thing that the novel loses in its portrayal of the Kurashikis (Akane in particular) is the game's commentary on how people are changed by trauma.  It pervades 999 the game, though I didn't realize it until the novel took it away.

Now, we're all familiar with the mechanical significance of the morphogenetic field etc. in 999's scenario and how the plot hangs together "scientifically" and "logically," for Art Bell values of science and logic.  Stories, though, often derive their power from how they map to more relatable, everyday touchstones in the human experience.  So let's take a look at things from a symbolic perspective: what are Akane & Aoi trying to do by staging the new Nonary Game, basically?  Recreate the circumstances of their past trauma and have things go right this time.  The entire Sheldrake/Nonary Game setup, where a "repaired" echo of something in the present can rewrite the past, is a fictive equivalent of the coping tactic of replaying a distressing incident in one's head, except with a favorable outcome to make things better  -  Akane is trapped in the past in more ways than one.  In the mental made literal, Akane and Aoi dedicate themselves (and others) to running through their trauma over and over again  -  except, given the device of the morphogenetic field, they actually can rewrite the past (or resolve the time paradox favorably, if you will) and get a good resolution on one of their runthroughs, if the conditions are right.  The idea is that once this process is successfully completed, as is the hope with many therapies (even misguided ones), Akane will be able to self-actualize and move on  -  except here, given Akane's Schrödinger's cat situation, this self-actualization is painfully literal.

(This brings to mind the old observation about how in good fantasy, the emotional needs of the characters and the themes of the story shape and determine the nature of the magic powers, instead of the powers being shaped by ornamental or other arbitrary considerations.  It's no mistake that the particular brand of pseudoscience that drives 999's plot focuses on how the past influences the present in unseen ways, and how the past causes its own repetition and perpetuation.)

In these circumstances, the traditional happy ending would never work, as dealing with trauma doesn't result in an instant happy ending; you're just finally able to move on (as Akane, again very literally, does by driving away from the scene of her rehabilitation without additional entanglement).  If we look at matters from the protagonist's perspective and priorities, though, there's another reason why Junpei can't have a happy ending: the Akane Junpei knew no longer exists.  The violence visited upon her changed her and made her a different person.  It's not a coincidence that once the player understands whom the current Akane really is by understanding the actions for which she's been responsible in the game, "June" disappears from the narrative in the current sense.  There isn't any heartrending, revelatory confrontation or goodbye between her and the rest of the cast; she just totally ghosts.  Akane narrates, and Junpei can communicate with past Akane, but "June" as we knew her throughout gameplay can't stay in the active narrative, as she's a conscious construct meant to reawaken Junpei's memory  -  a means to an end (and, perhaps in part, a role that allows Akane to enjoy for a few hours what might have been had things gone differently).  June might have been an evolution of an Akane who existed before the Nonary Game  -  but the present Akane is no longer Junpei's Akane and hasn't been since the incident.  June's total disappearance is meant to signal this definitive break.

Other details of the story of the participants in the first Nonary Game mirror those of real-life trauma victims in notably specific ways. They're not believed by the authorities (a depressingly common phenomenon with victimization), because their victimizer is in a position of prestige and power (ditto).  What do Akane and Aoi want from their assailant?  Not death, but a public acknowledgment of what he did to them.  The vindication and validation of their account and feelings that they were previously denied  -  which only Ace can give them  -  mean more to them than obtaining vengeance through death (which they have no problem orchestrating for their ancillary tormentors).

Then we learn (in supplemental materials) that their assailant was himself brutalized in the same way and himself has been obsessed with reliving his past.  He, however, has not even a morphogenetic plot reason for using the Nonary Game as the vector of his research; he does so only because he's mentally obsessed with it.  He can't move on from his trauma and instead inflicts it upon others  -  a trait that defines those responsible for the misery in the story.

The cycle of violence is also acutely depicted in the two characters responsible for the game's most memorable acts of bloodshed: Snake and Clover.  It's telling, and consistent, that out of the present-day Nonary Game's innocent targets, the characters who have previously been the direct victims of violence prove to be the ones most capable of violence themselves.  Contrast this to Junpei, Seven, and Lotus, who are not direct victims of the Nonary Game from nine years past, at least not in the deeply traumatic manner of its helpless young test subjects: though Seven can play enforcer and Lotus and Junpei both attempt shady maneuvers involving doors, none wreak anything approaching the charnel of the Axe ending or the cavalcade of vengeful horror in the incinerator.  (It's interesting to note that the most passive-victim ending, Sub, is experienced from the perspective of the Junpei-Seven-Lotus triad  -  who find out nothing and can only be slain as bystanders, swept up, symbolically, in a huge tableau of violence they can only view from outside and whose motives they don't understand at all.)

Snake and Clover, though, commit violence only in the relative heat of the moment, when the very worst is inflicted upon them unameliorated; their acts lack the long-term premeditation of the Kurashikis or Gentarou Hongou.  Elsewhere in the game, they are used as a contrast, an alternative path  -  to emphasize the importance of a healthy response to trauma.  Snake is the game's standout character, but why is he so remarkable, really?  He has survived trauma  -  losing his sight  -  yet moved on to thrive in its aftermath.  Small wonder, then, that he is one of the most capable players, the biggest help in negotiating the Kurashikis' miasma of personal pain; there's no question why, in the right path, he's Junpei's guide to unraveling this morass and not, say, something like the note in the safe.  When he is absent, this task falls to his sister (and fellow trauma victim) Clover, and she will rise ably to it  -  provided she does not fall prey to the fresh horror inflicted on her.  Given the themes of the game, it is no coincidence that a great deal of the path to the good ending in 999 involves ensuring that Clover doesn't let the fresh trauma of her brother's assumed death consume her.  And who is responsible for the "hope, faith, love, and luck" mantra that greatly contributes to bringing Clover out of it (and helps the young abductees on the Gigantic in the first Nonary Game get through their ordeal)?  Well, of course.

(It is noteworthy that while it is Aoi who first tells Junpei of the "Hope, Faith, Love, and Luck", he does so specifically in an act of repudiating it.)

(Note: VLR spoilers ahead.)

Now, I don't like 999's sequels at all; they have a markedly different attitude toward violence, embracing it Saw-style after the most perfunctory bits of hand-wringing.  To me, 999 is a self-contained story.  But I feel the few details we get of Snake and Clover's life decisions in Virtue’s Last Reward, and the siblings' complete absence from Zero Time Dilemma, actually work as extensions of their function in 999's narrative.

VLR posits that after the events of 999, Clover and Snake were asked to join a secret organization supposedly dedicated to stopping a group of terrorists.  (The specific branch they are asked to join is composed of their fellow first Nonary Game victims, headhunted for the same pseudo-psychic powers that got them selected for the game.)  The organization is not under Akane's purview, but its cause is strongly identified with that of a group led by Akane.  The Fields, however, refuse at first  -  as VLR Clover says, they want to "move on" with their lives; only when old friend Seven makes a personal appeal do they yield.  

Snake and Clover's behavior may seem selfish, as the group's cause is on its face a noble one  -  and they are ultimately moved by it, after all  -  but I think, in a way, their initial resistance speaks to something good in the Fields: they decidedly do not want their past trauma to define them.  They are reluctant to join a group that largely defines them by their role in the past Nonary Game (one that is, perhaps not coincidentally, largely ineffectual, as we hear of not one success in several missions; again, reviving old trauma proves to be a poor starting point for an endeavor).  When their mother tries (understandably) to ensconce them in bodyguards in response to multiple kidnappings, they bolt to start their lives anew  -  and they succeed in carving out a niche for themselves, and are happy and fulfilled.  The Fields are well-adjusted and have successfully moved past their trauma.

The Akane of VLR, however, has not fared as well  -  perhaps unsurprisingly given the method chosen for her salvation, her recovery has not taken, and she cannot move on from her past.  Of all the infinitely more efficient options surely available to a woman of her talents and resources, Akane yet again resorts to a game of death and victimizing strangers to solve her problems; like Ace (another organizational head whose wealth and power should have afforded him better options than the path he took), she repeats the pattern of her past trauma, still mentally trapped by it.  (Yes, VLR attributes the game to Klim, but Akane is the de facto mastermind.)  Her recreation of her trauma continues right down to the separation of siblings with her potentially permanent separation of Clover from Snake, seemingly needless for any reason except obeying the dictates of her own ensnared mind.  The parallels between Akane and Gentarou Hongou are even stronger and more striking here; she has become her victimizer, a role she fully embraces.

Akane's choices, though, are viewed by Virtue's Last Reward rather uncritically; the object of the game is (again) to save her, and she is held up as a patron saint of sorts, giving a benediction to Sigma and the player in a radiant green garden in the ending.  This matches, however, the game's much more gleeful attitude toward hurting people; Akane's new Nonary Game is dramatically more vicious and nasty, encouraging players by design to backstab and murder  -  a task to which its cast rises, even to the detriment of its own self-interest, with downright stupid zeal.  (Compare this to 999, which devoted oodles of dialogue, even for 999, to the Door 3-7-8 moral dilemma of leaving even one person behind  -  whereas the very title of Virtue's Last Reward states that ethics are for suckers.)  Again, yes: Akane's actions are in the service of trying to stop a deadly global virus (in a bit of author overreach for his favorite character).  But her approach to solving her problems does not speak well for her personal well-being, or to any continuity with the previous game's approach to trauma.  

(These misplaced priorities, by the way, seep into VLR's portrayal of Clover (and every other VLR character); bluntly, Clover during the actual events of VLR is a fucked-up character because VLR and its priorities are fucked up.)

Then we arrive at Zero Time Dilemma, which is gleeful wall-to-wall violence, blood and guts and sadism for its own sake.  Though Uchikoshi promised that the fate of Clover and Snake in the "real" timeline would be revealed in ZTD, the siblings merit not even a mention in the finished game  -  unlike, say, Lotus and Seven, who were markedly less central to the overall narrative.  It makes sense that they are wholly absent here, spared not a thought by the plot or its participants: by ZTD, the series has given itself over to wholesale slaughter for its own sake, a celebration of pain rather than an examination of how to overcome it.  There is simply no longer a place for what the Fields represent.  

#999 #nine hours nine persons nine doors

[katieskarlette]

Warcraft Chronicle Vol. II - An Illustrated Reaction Post

 I had the day off from work yesterday, so I binge-read the second volume of the World of Warcraft Chronicle.  Another very enjoyable read, and a must for any self-respecting lore geek. 

 [General comments follow.  Spoilers will be below the Read More.]

I reallllllllly wish this had come out prior to, or concurrent with, Warlords of Draenor.  Almost all my issues with “This is only happening in an AU so why do we care?” and “Did any of this happen in our universe?” would have been taken care of.

There’s a wealth of lore on the breakers vs. primals, the gronn, ogron, ogres, orcs, botani, and arrakoa.  Everything makes so much more sense now!   WoD would still have been plagued by the same gameplay issues (*coughcoughgarrisonscoughcough*) but the story would have grabbed me more.  I mean, yes, a good deal of the Draenor lore in Chronicle II (maybe even the majority of it) was in-game, but to have it all in one place, to see how the parts all relate to each other, to have it told as a cohesive story, and to know that it occurred in our universe and not just an AU, made all the difference in the world.

My only complaint about the book was the lack of references to any of Deathwing’s children.  We did find out some more about what he was up to between the War of the Ancients and Day of the Dragon, but there was no mention at all of Sabellian, Nefarian, Onyxia, or any others.

[I’m going to make a separate post about the Deathwing parts of Chronicle II, since this one got really long.]

The primordial lore of Draenor, with creatures of stone or plant life that towered higher than mountains and caused the world to shake with every step, was awe-inspiring, terrifying, and epic.

Er...take my word for it.  It was awesome.  *ahem*

Grond, the rock giant created by the Titan Aggramar to fight the Evergrowth, broke down into a series of lesser beings as time went by, each kind smaller but smarter than the last.  Thus were created most of Draenor’s sentient creatures (minus arrakoa, saberon, botani, and sporeggar).

I know Blizzard is trying to sand off the rough edges of the lore and make things fit more seamlessly, and in the vast majority of cases I think the Chronicles book do that well.  At first I thought orcs being descended from ogres was an exception, but then I really looked at the pictures and realized...yeah, it works.  Orcs and ogres share the same jaw structure, at least.  (I’m still not sure how one eye turned into two, though, and the number of toes increased a lot in the last two iterations.  Also, it appears bad posture skipped ogres and popped up again in orcs...)  ;)

(All images in the above graphic are from Wowpedia.  And of course I used Varok Saurfang as the quintessential orc because he’s freaking Saurfang.  ‘Nuff said.)

I wonder if dwarves know that orcs are technically descended from rocks, too...  It also means that ogres and orcs have Titan origins, albeit not as directly as vrykul, mogu, gnomes, dwarves, etc.

Goria, the capital of the ancient ogre empire, was destroyed by orc shaman, working with the elements of Draenor to avenge the desecration of the Throne of Elements.  (The ogres had barged in and tried to take the power of the elements with brute force, which...didn’t go well.)  The city was buried by the forces of earth, and none of the races of Draenor wanted anything to do with the site afterward...until the draenei crashed and were like, “Hey!  This looks like a great place for a city!”  Thus Shattrath was founded.

Meanwhile, I imagine the orcs, ogres, arrakoa, etc. were peeking over a hill nearby going, “WTF are those new guys doing? Everybody knows better than to build there!”  It’s like building a subdivision on top of a cursed native burial ground.

As it turns out, none of Shattrath’s problems had anything to do with unhappy ogre spirits, but the bad karma didn’t do the city any favors, either.

In WoD, Alliance players drink an elixir to witness a vision of the Iron Horde using the Dark Star to conquer Karabor despite Velen’s best efforts to defend the holy site.  

In our universe, the non-iron Horde did basically the same thing, but Velen was able to escape.  The void energies corrupted the site into the Black Temple.  Fel seeped in later when the demons took over, but initially it was the void that wrecked it.  Interesting.

When Grom Hellscream learned of Draenor blowing up, he assumed Garrosh was killed, and “the news was devastating.”  He forced himself to “put aside his grief” for the greater good of orckind and led the remnants of the Horde into the Swamp of Sorrows.  

If only Garrosh knew that his father cared that much about him, even with the red pox, maybe he wouldn’t have been such a mess.  :p

Long before anyone on Azeroth had heard of an orc, the Gurubashi trolls attacked Stormwind (as seen in the Bonds of Brotherhood graphic novel that was a movie tie-in.)  All seemed lost until Medivh stood on the ramparts and unleashed a firestorm of magic down on the invading trolls.  

My question is, did it take as long to clean up the charred mess from that incident as it did to repair the city after Deathwing damaged it at the beginning of Cataclysm?  ;)  

(At least there were no huge statues near the gates to tip over in those days.  I still remember the first time I saw the cinematic of Deathwing casually knocking over Danath’s statue on his way by, and how freaking awesome that was.  Oops, this was supposed to be the non-dragon section.  Ahem.  Moving on...)

Taria Wrynn was killed while she and Varian were trying to escape the city during the fall of Stormwind.  Lothar saved the prince but could not save the queen.  :( 

No mention of Varian’s sister from the movie-verse.

Miscellaneous tidbits:

Before the Scourge, the Eastern Plaguelands were known as the Eastweald.

Maraad had a sister named Leran.  She was captured and killed by orcs in one of the first clashes in what would end up being the draenei genocide.  No mention of our universe’s Yrel, though.

The Scepter of Sargeras that my warlock has as her Legion artifact shows up in one of the art pieces in Chronicle II, in Ner’zhul’s hand as he splits Draenor asunder.  Pretty damn cool.  I mean, I knew the history behind the weapon from playing my lock, but to actually see it being used at that historic moment gave me a thrill.  (Although the thought of such a powerful weapon bumping around on some chucklehead player’s back is kind of scary...  Stand in the fire, accidentally shatter the planet...LOL!)

The cutscene in original Karazhan showing Nightbane’s origins was revisited and expanded upon significantly.  It seems that Arcanagos (Nightbane, pre-crispification) was one of Aegwynn’s few true friends (along with Moroes!), and they came to Karazhan together to confront Medivh about the Dark Portal after they sensed his magic behind it.

Sargeras took over Medivh and was like, “Hey, Aegwynn, long time no see!  Remember me?  You thought you killed my avatar, but I actually hitchhiked in your body for awhile and then possessed your son.  How do you like them apples?”  

And Aegwynn was like, “WTF?  YOU ASSHOLE!”

They fought, and although Sargeras was, y’know, a freaking Titan, he was working with a sliver of his real power in a body he had only been inhabiting for a relatively short time, and Aegwynn was not only more experienced fighting as a human, but she was extremely pissed off.  Arcanagos got fried when he tried to help her.

Sargeras was like, “Shit, I’m actually losing,” and sucked the life energy out of everyone (except Aegwynn and Moroes) in the tower.  Thus all the ghosts you see there today.  With that power, he could have obliterated Aegwynn, but deep in his brain Medivh was like, “Not my mother, you bastard!” and exerted his will so that Aegwynn was banished to some far-flung, unknown corner of the world instead of being killed. 

When he came to his senses again he was like, “WTF just happened?  Did I black out and kill everyone again?  Ugh, I hate when that happens.”  And he felt very bad.  As one does.

[#tw:  mention of rape and vague allusion to incest in the following section]

Garona’s plot definitely draws from the comics, but there is zero mention of her having a romantic and/or sexual relationship with Medivh, which I assume is Blizzard’s way of saying, “Med’an?  Who’s that?  Never heard of him!  Ooh, look, a squirrel!”  Which is honestly fine by me.  Briefly canon or not, Medivh/Garona is kind of a NOTP as far as I’m concerned (one amusing screenshot not withstanding.)

I actually rather liked the movie-verse idea that Medivh was her father, partly because it made for an interesting, poignant story (and got rid of the rape element), and partly because it made the original Warcraft I story of her being half human, half orc canon again. Retcons are a necessary evil, but clever ways to get around them are fun, too.

However, Chronicles II makes it clear that Garona’s father was an orc warrior and her mother was a draenei prisoner.  Which, okay, fine, it would be pretty jarring to go from “babydaddy” to “actual father” in main canon, so as long as they got rid of Med’an, I’ll take it.  They were still friends, and bonded over their shared feeling of being an outcast.

I’m sure I’ll think of a million things I’ve forgotten to mention as soon as I post this, but I’ve rambled long enough and I haven’t even touched the black dragonflight stuff.  Suffice it to say that Chronicle II is amazing, and while the dragon lore may not be as detailed as I’d like, we did get some juicy new tidbits to chew on.

#Warcraft lore #warcraft chronicle #warcraft chronicle spoilers #medivh #aegwynn #sargeras #garona #the titans #grom hellscream #and others #ogron #gronn #faillords of draenor #katieskarlette makes images

[jungnoir]

ghost!bambam;

a while back @seoulscapes sent me this text post and said this would be ghost!bambam and this idea was always a cute what if...... and then someone requested it

and how could i refuse our bby bam?

ok ok so background on bambam’s death: he died way too young

he was in college and had just been accepted into the frat of his dreams

he was basically living the life

but some dumbass in the frat thought that bambam wasn’t “ride or die” enough so the head of the frat acquiesced bc obviously the reputation of the frat was on the line and he couldn’t have any of his pledges getting in easy peasy

obviously

so they decided to gave him one more trial, a quickie that barely meant anything to them at all 

even bam himself was like “lol that’s easy”

the trial was to enter this old house in the neighborhood and to retrieve a well hidden letterman jacket, the jacket that new pledges get once they’d passed all the tests

the head of the frat sent the dumbass with the genius idea to hide it, and that guy and his friend made sure to make it unrealistically hard for bambam

they placed it in the attic, where there were countless holes and creaky floorboards and basically the whole thing is a death trap nightmare

but bambam is super confident!!! he’s like hell yeh imma get in there and imma find that jacket and im gonna look so cool to the prez of the frat that he’ll throw me a party in my honor and thank me on his knees for even considering his frat

he got ahead of himself obviously but i digress

at first, bambam was sure he could find it

he searched everywhere, high and low, and the longer it took him to search the more frustrated he and the frat brothers got

after a while, the brothers decided to head back, and if bam could bring the jacket by morning then he was in

bam had searched every area of the abandoned house and finally he had reached the attic, which had been ~mysteriously~ left open

he decides it wouldn’t hurt to check and goes up, flashing his phone light to see the jacket all the way across the attic, practically waiting for him like treasure to a pirate

he scrambles up, not even thinking about watching his step

and not even a few feet later, he’s got the jacket in hand, but he collapses right through the floor

honestly, a lot of people had fallen through the attic before, leaving with nothing more serious than a broken bone or two, but it’s not bambam’s lucky day

he happens to step in the worst spot, and it sends him falling from the high open ceiling above the front door, falling three stories and hitting the ground with a sickening crack

he was dead on impact

the frat brothers didn’t see bam the next day, or the day after that, so most of them assumed bam got hurt or chickened out after not finding it

until a few days later when some students passing by the house noticed a foul smell

the police were called and bam was found, and the frat brothers were so surprised that they didn’t dare speak a word of it to anyone

it looked like a frat kid playing around, and got too brave and ended up dead

it was a tragic case, and the campus mourned for months

bambam didn’t quite realize his ghostly self until a week after the incident, when he found himself staring out of one of the bedroom windows, laying on the floor with the letterman jacket around his shoulders

he was super confused, wondering if the fall had been a dream and he had just passed out in a random room or something

he leaves the house shortly after, and sees one of his frat brothers

he goes to greet him, to gloat about finally passing all the tests, but as soon as bambam walks up to him the frat brother walks straight through him

so bambam really starts freaking out and thinks that he’s drunk, and starts yelling at the frat brother for help or something but

nothing

no one can hear him

and it seems like no one can see or feel him either

it’s only when he gets to the frat house that he sees a vigil still up, filled to the brim with fresh flowers and a small stand that says “for bambam, may he rest in peace”

it’s so unbelievable that all he can do is break down and cry, scream for anyone who might realize he’s there, but after a while his cries grow less and less, and suddenly he’s confined himself to the house of which he died in, spending every day alone and depressed

he slowly learns that he can still be helpful, and whenever stupid teenagers try to sneak in for fun, he always scares them off before they can

the least he can do, he thinks, is keep others from meeting his fate too

so for months, it’s all he’s used to

the solitude grows so suffocating that bambam actually thinks he’ll go mad, but then you show up

you’re new, with ripped jeans and dirty sneakers and your hair pulled out of your face

you’ve got a clipboard in hand and glasses on the tip of your nose as you make your way inside, taking a step every few feet and scribbling something on your paper

he’s learned that he can appear and disappear to those he wants, all he has to do is focus

so he keeps invisible and stays behind you, being careful not to startle you as he reads over your shoulder

and sure enough, he finds out that you’re a real estate agent

“this place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. no wonder that kid died here” you mumble under your breath, and bambam forgets to conceal himself, his eyes widening as he appears before you with a finger pointed at himself

“me?!” he shouts

you’re so frightened you scream and tumble back, but bambam is fast and grabs you by the waist before you can hurt yourself, his face knitted into an expression of concern

as soon as he sets you upright, you’re scrambling to get away from him, looking around for any signs of him coming in, but it’s like he appeared out of thin air

and he looks strangely familiar, but you just can’t place it

clutching over your heart with a heavy breath, you narrow your eyes at him and level your clipboard to defend yourself just in case “who are you and what are you doing here, kid?”

and bambam is highkey offended like

kid?? he’s- well, he was going to turn 21 soon

folding his arms over his chest, he pouts, “i could ask you the same thing. don’t you know this place is off limits since that... ya know... incident?”

he tries his best to sound authoritative and to have the upper hand in the situation but you catch on quick “it’s off limits to the general public, a public of which i am not apart of. i’m a real estate agent and i’m supposed to be casing this place for repairs. it’s gonna be hard to sell, what with the history behind it, but some people like stuff like that”

for some reason, bambam feels like he’s being intruded upon

like how could you just come in and take this place from him? he had nowhere else to go

it was already hell being on his own, he didn’t want to know what it would be like trying to avoid actual people living in the same place he lost his life

and it wasn’t like he could just relocate. his spirit was forever tied to that place, and even though he could go to some places, he could only go so far before his spirit would weaken and he’d be forced to return

“you don’t wanna do that. honestly, it’d be a better idea if you just left me- i mean, it alone”

he hopes you don’t catch on to his slip up but you’ll be damned if you ignore it

“you? what, do you come here to avoid your parents or something, kid? look, i’d suggest you find somewhere less dangerous to spend your time. isn’t it a bit early in the morning to be here anyway?” 

you continue to keep interrogating him, fretting over him like a child, and bambam is finding it really hard to keep his cool

he obviously can’t outright say he’s dead and has nowhere to go, but you don’t seem to be shutting up any time soon

in the middle of your spiel about how “back in your day” you rebelled too, you reach a hand out to grab him, but 

your hand...goes right through him

while he was getting worked up about you, he hadn’t been focusing on how his body was slowly fading in and out of its solid state

you kinda just stand there, fingers hovering right where his palm and the bones of his hand should stop you, his skin translucent and bordering on transparent

you think your eyes are playing tricks on you so you move your hand up toward his chest, and it solidifies under your touch as you let out a relieved sigh

but then you don’t feel anything under your fingertips

you place your hand right over his heart and feel nothing, not a steady beat or even his chest rising and falling to take in a damn breath

it’s just cold skin under a cold, thin tee shirt, and the boy before you is looking at you like he’s been waiting for you to notice

“what... why are... where is your heartbeat?” “i don’t very well need one if i’m dead, do i?”

suddenly the familiarity hits you, and all those months ago when you’d first seen his face on tv, the tragic case of a college kid who’d lost his life in the very house you were in

you let out a choked scream, but it’s barely loud enough to startle the birds out in the backyard

he just watches with raised eyebrows as you stumble back, your eyes widened in fright and your hand over your mouth 

“y-you died! here! you’re a ghost!” you keep repeating to yourself, trying to find your sanity

yet all he can do is sigh, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “i’ve been aware, captain obvious. and i can’t go anywhere else, so you can’t sell this house” he tells you, walking up to you and grabbing your arm to keep you steady, just in case you fell again

when you’ve seemed to calm down a few minutes later, you level a glare at him and shove his arm off, “i can’t just tell my boss that this house is off limits because it’s haunted. i’ll sound like a lunatic” “bring your boss here. i’ll scare the shit out of him, hm? problem solved”

but no matter what he says, you stand firm in your decision that the house has to go, and that he’ll just have to deal with it

after all, what was the worst he could really do?

lmao

had you been a lil wiser, you might’ve not asked the question

the months spent fixing up the house were torture for you

from tripping up carpenters, throwing screwdrivers at windows and using red paint to draw ominous messages on the walls, bambam refuses to back down

and the worst thing is, it seems like you’re the only one he’s allowing see him

bambam: *in the middle of drawing a pentagram on the floor* don’t sell the house

you: *furiously painting over the remaining drawings of “666″ and “the antichrist lives here”* fuck off

he’s so??? infuriating?? and he’s dead which makes it ten times as bad bc he never gets tired

but despite his efforts (and there were plenty), the house soon gets fixed up into a livable state, and it’s up to you to begin decorating and getting the house sold

and after a while, you become used to bambam

it took a while for you to formally introduce yourselves to each other, and while it was a bit,,,,, stiff, you both had since come to an agreement

he would comply and let the house be sold, staying out of the way, but he would pick the tenants

so reluctantly, you accepted

bad idea of course but ANYWAY

he’s picky about everything

“i don’t like them, too many kids” “but they only have one??” “one too many”

“no old people, i’m the only one who’s gonna haunt this place goddamn it”

“the wife hates dogs???? what the hell!!”

no matter who you bring in, he hates them all

if you find it hard deterring the tenants from taking the place after his disapproval, he’ll start banging pots in the kitchen, or randomly screaming from different parts of the house, or creating shadows to scare people away

he’s always finding something bad about each one, and as the days stretch on, your boss starts getting on you about selling the place, seeing as he’s put so much money into making it even slightly desirable after bambam’s death

after one particularly taxing day, you find yourself curled up on the bed upstairs, blanket tucked in comfortably around you as you come to

bambam is there next to you, staring up at the ceiling as you flip over in bed to face him

you ask him how long you’ve been asleep, and he tells you it’s only been a few hours, but it’s dark out

you’re halfway up and out of bed, mumbling that you should probably head home, when you feel bambam scoot a little closer

and then you feel his breath on your shoulder, and in surprise, you turn, coming face to face with bambam

he looks a lot different than usual, a sad look to his usually peppy disposition

“would it be... strange... if you stayed the night? i mean, you leave snacks in the pantry since you’re practically here from sun up to sun down, and the bed is comfortable, and i... i’d really like some company”

and it’s crazy, but you find yourself staying

he spills to you about his life that night, telling you all about how his life had been before he died, how he had tried to check up on his family but hadn’t been able to get very far, and about his plans for the future

you get an idea and give him your phone, and he pulls up the social media of all his family members, spending hours just pointing out the silly posts they’d made, showing you the instagram pics that he had taken with them in the past, and reading their eulogies to him

“thank you for that... i’ve always wondered how they’d been” he tells you, watching with fondness as you struggle to keep your eyes open much longer, you mumbling out a quiet reply of “of course”

quietly, he tucks you back into the bed and lays a soft kiss on your forehead, and had he been alive, his cheeks would’ve flushed at the contact

from that day forward, you start to feel closer to bambam

you two share stories of your lives, you being a young but somewhat lonely real estate agent, telling him about how you felt like your life was going nowhere fast

he comforts you, talking to you through work stress, or letting you drink your worries away with him after a bad date (the alcohol passes right through him, and he’s thankful for that seeing as when he was alive he was a terrible lightweight)

he becomes someone in your life that you don’t think you could live without, much to your shock

it’s a rainy night and you’re still finding yourself spending time with bambam, a bottle of soju in hand as you both talk about your day when he suddenly goes, “why don’t you live here? i think you’re the only person i could tolerate being around all day”

he half expects you to laugh it off, but as you swish the contents of the bottle back and forth with a thoughtful expression, his heart clenches

with hope??? maybe

“i’ve thought about it, actually. but i don’t know... that’s a pretty big step just to hang out with annoying ol’ you” you tease, nudging your foot into his side as he grins

“just think of me as a cool, dead roommate. when you’re away, i’ll guard the house. and i can keep up with chores and keep the place warm. i can even make you dinner”

the more bambam talks, the more the idea becomes appealing

and it’s true, you’re the only person bambam could stand

in fact, you’re the only person bambam would want

the amount of times he’s dreamt of coming home to you, embracing you and spending his nights with you every night like this, being able to see you in your warm, relaxed state... it makes him a lil thankful to whomever had put him here

because if he had continued to live the life he had before, he would have never met you

and he misses his family, but he knows they’re okay

he’s at peace, he’s content, and it’s all thanks to you

there’s something more there, he thinks, but he knows it’s wishful thinking

yet as you lean into him, your warm breath brushing his arm as you mull over your thoughts, such wishful thinking doesn’t seem so distant

“if i move in... you’ve got to promise not to pop in on me in the shower and stuff” “hm, no promises”

his fingers curl around yours as you hit him with your other hand, laughing melodically into his ear

“you’re terrible” you grumble, snuggling that much closer to him as you both watch the stars through the window

“mhm. love you” he mumbles, drawing his lip between his teeth as your heart stutters 

your eyes dart to his even if only for a moment, your cheeks flushing in bashfulness

you breathe out, feeling his gaze on your face as you try to remind yourself just who you’re talking to, and what situation he’s in, “love you too... kid”

because it’s obvious

having feelings for him would be weird. it wouldn’t make sense. it would only end in heartbreak if he ever moved on to the afterlife, or if you ever found someone to start a family with. it was wishful thinking. it wouldn’t amount to anything...

...right?

you can’t really find the heart to believe yourself as his fingers squeeze around yours, and the night fades into warm hearts and stargazing, the promise of something strange, something good lingering right between you two as you drift into lovely daydreams of a boy who was just a little bit different from the rest

other ghost!got7

ghost!youngjae

ghost!jaebum

imaginary friend!mark

spirit!yugyeom

goblin!jinyoung

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