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helenaheissner · 27 days

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Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 15

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And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Faith

Dark Shadows droned on my television screen while the effects of my weed gummy began to manifest. Everything was light and airy, and I laid on my back and watched the ceiling fan rotate while gothic soap opera nonsense served as the soundtrack to my stoned thought-ramblings.

I wanted to focus on what was in front of me, I really did. But all I could think about was my rival going on a date with my best friend, and the green thornbush of envy strangling my heart. I’d resolved myself to be a graceful loser, going out of my way to support Zeke and Kate’s budding relationship. I’d done Kate’s makeup for her, and given her an extended tutorial on how to walk in heels, given her my old falsies. She’d looked, to be blunt, smoking hot when I was through with her. Zeke was a lucky guy, and hopefully he realized that.

Kate, for her part, seemed to already know that she was a lucky girl.

I still couldn’t believe she’d offered to stop pursuing Zeke for my benefit. The first guy you like, once you realize you swing that way, tends to have a downright intoxicating effect on you in my experience. That she’d have been willing to give that up just to make me happy…

I was wrong about her. Or maybe I was right, but now she’d changed, and if I tried to keep acting like she was still a jerk, then I’d be the real jerk. She was a ray of freaking sunshine now. It was… Hard not to see the appeal.

An image sparked in my mind, of Kate’s head resting on my lap, me stroking her hair, running my hands over her shoulders, tracing the outline of her lips with my fingers…

I shook my head. That kind of thought wouldn’t help me at all in the days going forward. And honestly, it had been… Difficult to let myself feel attracted to another girl ever since Olivia left me.

Another image burst across my mind’s eye, of Zeke stroking my hair while I rested my head in his lap, of him running his hands over the edges of my body…

I shook my head again. I needed to stop this, otherwise I’d be veering dangerously close to fem-cel territory, and that was the last thing I wanted. Those two… Had each other now. If it didn’t work out, maybe I could pursue Zeke after he’d had an appropriate amount of time to grieve his former relationship.

Assuming it went that far. Maybe tonight would go badly and then I could…

No. Just no, Faith. Get over yourself.

My hand was unconsciously drawn to my phone, resting on the coffee table, and I scrolled through my contacts and pulled up Olivia. My red-lacquered fingernail hovered over the call icon, and my hands began trembling. The phone slipped out and fell onto the floor, and as I reached for it, a furious knocking exploded from my front door.

I groaned, then felt the sting of dysphoria as I realized I’d slipped into a low voice. I sat up, breathed a deep breath through my nose and held it in my chest while the knocking grew in rapidity and intensity.

I exhaled, then walked over to the door.

On the other side, I found a pale, dark-haired woman in her early fifties, her makeup a smudgy mess streaked across her blotchy face. She reeked of brandy and cigarettes, with ash-stains smeared across her white cardigan and blue skirt.

I sighed. “Hi, Mrs. Underhill.”

“Who are you?” she slurred, the traces of her Newcastle accent making themselves apparent.

You’ve got to be kidding me- you’ve met me over a dozen times and you still don’t… Wait, she’s never seen me as a girl! Holy crap! Do I pass that well? Am I such a convincing girl that this idiot just straight-up doesn’t recognize me? I’ve gotta work with this.

“Did my son finally get a girlfriend, then?” Mrs. Underhill spat.

“No, I’m just his roommate,” I said, each word carefully plucked from the marijuana haze choking my mind.

“Bah, his roommate- unbelievable, cohabitating with a young immigrant girl who doesn’t know better-”

My eyes narrowed. I see you’re the same as ever, bitch. “I was born here, ma’am. And both my parents are American citizens.”

“Are they, though?”

“Pretty sure I’d know that better than you.”

“Well, regardless, my scoundrel of a son should know better than to-”

“Don’t you talk about Zeke like that!” I snapped. “He’s a wonderful and upstanding young man!”

“Oh really? Well I’ve known him since the day he was born and I say he’s… Wait a moment.”

Oh, no. Paranoia stabbed through my chest, dread grasping my brain tightly. “Y-yes?”

“I completely forgot what I was here to talk about… Oh, right!” Mrs. Underhill said.

“Y… Yeah?” I asked, the paranoia spreading to my stomach.

“I’m getting a divorce!”

My eyes shot way, way open. “That’s… Not actually surprising, honestly,” I said. Then my eyes went even wider at the realization that my dumb stoned brain said that out loud. Dammit, I was gonna give myself away!

“Wot d’you mean?” she said, her Britishness intensifying.

“I, uh… Well, Zeke has, um, told me a lot about you and his dad.”

“Of course he did, that boy is completely incapable of keeping things- hic- in the family- hic,” she said.

“Oh, wow, you are really plastered aren’t you, Mrs. Underhill?” I said, trying very hard not to giggle at this grown-ass woman drunk and hiccuping like a freaking sorority girl.

“It’s- hic- Ms. Framing-h-h-ham to you, you little tart! Or it will be again soon. Ah never should have taken that miserable wretch’s last name. ‘Underhill.’ Wot a ridiculous name.”

“Excuse you?!” I bit.

“Oi, you heard me! You’re living with a young man in sin!”

“It’s not like that!” I said, “I’m not Zeke’s girlfriend. We’ve never been… He and I are just friends!”

“Good, good- you don’t want anything to do with anything that came from my wretch of a soon to- hic- soon to- hic- soon to be ex-hic-husband!”

“Stop talking about my friend like that!” I said, stomping my foot. My voice dropped low again- DAMMIT!

Mrs. Underhill… Ms. Framingham’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side and leaned forward. “Frank? Is that you under all that nonsense, lad?”

“... You can’t prove that,” I said, my back stiffening.

“Oi, you’ve got to be taking the piss- my good for nothing son is shacking up with a bloody tr-”

I slammed the door before she could finish.

“You open this door right now, you little fairy! I will not tolerate you being around my son, you disgusting little-”

“I’m not just gonna stand there so you can lecture me, you drunk old bitch!” I hollered. “Now get out of here before I call the cops!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Don’t call my bluff, lady! I’m from an Army family- you do NOT intimidate me!” God, I was way too high to deal with this. My chest was heaving up and down as I lumbered over to the couch and laid flat, clutching my phone tightly. I opened it, and Olivia’s contact was the first thing I saw.

Dammit. I forgot what I’d just been doing. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Let! Me! In!”

“Nancy?” a rough voice accented with the neutral tones of southern California spoke from the other side. Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Sid? Wot are you doing here, you louse?!”

“I came to speak with our son about our divorce.”

“No, you didn’t! I did- you don’t get to beat me to the punch.”

“He’s not home!” I yelled, doing my best to maintain a feminine tone.

“Who was that?” Mr. Underhill asked.

“Frank- little pervert thinks he’s a girl now.”

“Oh, lovely. Our son’s taste certainly hasn’t improved, then.”

“Both of you need to leave, or I WILL CALL THE POLICE!” I screamed.

“No you won’t, you don’t have the balls!” Mr. Underhill shouted through the door. I could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk on the old bastard’s face as he said it.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Zeke’s voice reached me like a light of hope shining from the sky above.

“Ezekiel, I need to talk to you,” his father said.

“Wot are you doin’, shacking up with that freak in there?” his mom said. “And now you’ve got another one on your arm there- wot on earth is wrong with you?”

My jaw clenched, and I stood up and marched outside. “Don’t insult him!” I shouted. “Your son is one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I will not listen to you insult him in his own home.”

“Zeke, are you really going to let this freak talk to us like that?” his father asked. He was taller than Zeke, noticeably so at over six foot six. Zeke got his mother’s shorter, leaner frame, but he shared his father’s curly black hair and tan skin and green eyes. Mr. Underhill smelled like cheap beer to go along with Ms. Framingham’s hard liquor aroma, his baggy Megadeth t-shirt tucked into his ill-fitting jeans. He was in remarkably good shape still, I had to give him that; they both were. Zeke had always described them as people who excelled at making others think nothing at all was wrong with them.

Evidently, tonight the masks were off.

Zeke gulped.

And behind him, Katie, oh poor, sweet, innocent Katie, trembled with a rage I recognized all too well. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, but her eyes flickered with apprehension. Poor thing. She was worried about taking another step backwards.

She shouldn’t have to do that. Not after her first date with the boy she liked.

I marched past Zeke’s parents and grabbed both Zeke and Katie by the wrists, and pulled them into the apartment and slammed the door.

“Unbelievable!” Mr. Underhill said. “You stupid little tr-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Zeke snapped. “You will not insult my friends. Now get out, or I’ll call the cops!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Ms. Framingham said.

“Ezekiel, c’mon, don’t be like that,” Mr. Underhill said. “We need to tell you something important!”

“Then stop burying the lede and say it!” Zeke said.

“Not until you come out here, young man!”

“Your parents are getting divorced,” I said.

Katie put a hand over her mouth in shock, her eyes wide as she backed further into my apartment.

Zeke blinked. “What?”

“Oh for God’s sake- he wasn’t meant to tell you!” Ms. Framingham said.

“So it’s true?” Zeke said through the door.

“... Yes.”

“Alright. Can’t say I’m surprised,” Zeke said. “Now I know. So you can leave.”

“Is that seriously all you have to say?”

“I’m calling the police now,” Zeke said.

“I already did,” I said, holding up my phone and hitting the speaker button.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” said the operator on the other end of the line.

“Bloody hell!” Ms. Framingham said as she stomped off.

“Jesus Christ,” Mr. Underhill mumbled as he did the same.

“Oh, just a couple of pests who wouldn’t leave,” I said to the dispatcher. “It’s taken care of, though. Have a great night!”

I hung up, and then the three of us all looked at each other.

Well, that’s not quite true: Katie and I looked at each other, and then at Zeke, who’d slipped into a thousand-yard stare. Katie clung to his arm and said, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he replied.

“Want something to drink?” I asked.

“After that shameless display? I might never drink again,” Zeke said.

I nodded, then looked at Katie and mouthed, ‘take care of him for a sec?’

She nodded.

I scampered off, opening the windows, turning on all the fans, and retrieving a few joints. I led the new couple over to the couch and sat them down, Zeke in the middle and Katie to his left. I sat on his right, then lit the joint and passed it to him.

Zeke inhaled deeply, breathed out, and coughed slightly.

Katie, meanwhile, coughed up a storm.

“First time?” I asked.

Her jaw dropped.

“Not like that,” I said in monotone.

She nodded rapidly.

“Figured. Zeke, talk to me. What’s going through your head, big guy?”

“Just… Wish I could say I was surprised by any of this,” Zeke said. “I don’t even know why I care- I barely talk to them anymore. I haven’t lived with them since I was eighteen. They drive me insane. They drive each other insane. I just… I dunno.”

“They shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Kate said, leaning forward, brow furrowed, hands gripping her knees tightly. “I just… It’s not okay. How can… How can any parent think that’s an okay way to talk to your kid!?”

“Katie, you’re shaking,” Zeke said.

“I- I am? Huh? I just… Everything feels really… Intense right now… And I just…”

“You don’t have to get angry, you know,” I said. “I saw you back there, about to lose your temper. And I get it, but you don’t have to. You can be supportive in other ways.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Zeke, put your arm around her,” I said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Zeke, put your arm around the pretty girl!” I said. “Trust me, it’ll be good for both of you right now.”

Zeke looked at me with immense confusion, then did as he was bid and put his arm around Katie.

“Good. Feel better?” I asked.

“Yeah, actually,” Kate said.

“A bit,” Zeke said. “I’m sorry you both had to see all that.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“I’m fine, really,” Kate said. “And this isn’t about me, it’s about you. How are you feeling?”

He took another hit, long and drawn out, then pawed at the puff of smoke he exhaled. “Well, the date went really well.”

“It did?” I said, forcing a smile onto my face. Be supportive, be supportive, be supportive.

“I think so,” Kate said as she coughed out another puff. “We did run into some people from work though.”

“Oh?”

They relayed the encounter with Olivia and the others to me, at which point I buried my face in my hands.

I felt Zeke’s hand on my back, and another hand, presumably Katie’s, patting my head. I opened my eyes and saw them both smiling at me, and a warm flush went through my body. “Olivia’s gonna keep being weird about this stuff, isn’t she?” I said.

“You know her better than me,” Kate said.

“Or me,” Zeke pointed out.

“Blarg.”

At that point, Kate leaned over Zeke’s frame and grabbed my hands. I blushed- seriously, what was with this girl and unprompted physical contact?- but I didn’t protest. “Let’s all do something to get our minds off of things. Ruminating won’t help us, now will it?”

Zeke cracked a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“We could play ‘never have I ever.’ Or ‘two truths and a lie.’”

“Going for the throwback, I see,” Zeke chuckled. “I haven’t played one of those since freshman year of college. I’m game, though.”

I hesitated. This could go badly. One of us- namely, myself- could say something we regret. Unfortunately, I’m really, really, really dumb, and when I’m stoned, that becomes amplified twenty-fold, so I simply nodded and said, “How about two truths and a lie?”

“Works for me!” Kate said, with that winning smile.

“Cool,” Zeke said, clearly glad to have changed the mood of the night.

“I’ll go first,” Kate said. “I’ve been wearing women’s underwear since I was twelve. I drink skim milk every day. I don’t like bananas.”

“Hmmmm?” Zeke said.

“I mean, I sure hope you like bananas, if you’re gonna be dating a guy,” I laughed.

Kate blushed.

Zeke looked at me reproachfully and said, “Faith…”

Then Kate started giggling.

“Oh, you totally like bananas- that was the lie!” I said, pointing at her.

“Well, I didn’t used to like them, but I’ve acquired the taste of late,” Kate smirked.

Zeke’s face scrunched up as he tried to keep his laughter in a bottle. The attempt, while valiant, failed wholesale within the first ten seconds. “That’s good to know.”

“I mean if we’re gonna keep seeing each other, yeah,” Kate said, her eyebrows shooting up and down several times. She took a hit, owing to having lost the round.

“Dear God,” I muttered.

“What?” they both said at once.

I just laughed, and laughed. “Nothing. I’ll go next. My favorite anime is Legend of the Galactic Heroes. I have a half-brother from my dad’s first marriage who’s fifteen years older than me. I prefer waxing my legs to shaving them.”

“It’s the second one,” Zeke said. “I’ve known you since I was eighteen- there is literally no way you’ve had a half-brother this whole time and never mentioned him once.”

“Kate, what’s your guess?” I asked.

“The second one as well,” Kate said. “You give off major ‘only child energy.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, my jaw dropping and my fists planting on hips in mock outrage.

“You know what it means,” Kate said, waving her hand at me.

“No, I don’t, because I really do have an older half-brother from my dad’s first marriage!” I laughed.

“No freaking way,” Zeke said.

“Yes freaking way!” I said, pulling out my phone and scrolling to a family photo. “His name is Darren Watanabe Junior, DJ for short. My dad knocked up a local gal when he was stationed in Nairobi. They were married for like, five years before they split up. He met my mom when he got transferred back to the states, and took a while for them to get together and have another kid.”

“How am I just now learning this?” Zeke said, taking the obligatory hit. “Your parents were at our graduation last year- where was DJ then?

“Torii Station, Okinawa,” I said. “He’s a Major in the Army. And like I said, he and I aren’t that close- he started attending West Point when I was three and shipped out to Afghanistan when I was seven. Think the last time I saw him was… Like, right before I started college.”

“Huh,” Zeke said. “The more you know.”

Kate coughed as she took another hit. “Indeed. What’s the lie then?”

“My favorite anime is actually Eureka Seven,” I said. “Your turn, Zeke.”

“Okay, okay, lemme think,” he said. “Uh… I was on the cross country team in high school. I speak fluent Romani. I’ve never been outside of California.”

“There’s no way you’ve never left California, even I’ve been outside California,” Kate said.

“You do not speak fluent Romani,” I said.

He looked me dead in the eyes and said a few words in a language I didn’t recognize.

I blinked. “Huh. Was that-”

“Romani. Vlax Romani specifically,” he said. “One of the only cool things my old man ever taught me.” He offered me the joint, then turned to Kate and poked her on the nose. “You, however, were correct. My dad also once took me on a business trip to Vegas.”

“Your dad is a mechanic,” I pointed out.

“A business trip to Vegas?” Kate said, tilting her head.

“His business is being a cheating man-whore,” Zeke laughed bitterly. “Either way, Kate wins this one.”

“Guess she really is a good fit for you,” I winced.

A pregnant pause sat atop us all for a few seconds. I shook my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid- why would you say that?! Oh, right, I’m stoned. That’s why.

“My turn again,” Kate said, leaning against the side of the sofa and putting her bare feet on Zeke’s lap. Damn, Kate, that’s bold. “I’ve never been outside of America. I don’t have any family outside of my parents. I’m a virgin.”

I started coughing, and so did Zeke. Kate just giggled at the both of us, holding her hand over her mouth. God, she had a cute laugh. It was insane how cute she was… No wonder Zeke was into her, she was adorable. And with how hot her mom was, the hormones were liable to be VERY good to her. “There’s no way a cutie like you is a virgin,” I said.

Zeke and Kate both stared at me for a moment.

“W-w-w-well, Zeke, w-w-w-what’s your guess?” I finally managed to squeak out.

“I find it slightly hard to believe your parents are your only relatives, even if it would explain how close y’all are,” Zeke said.

“Nope on both your guesses,” she chirped. “I went on a family vacation to Mexico once when I was very small. My parents are both only children and my grandparents are all dearly departed. And, uh, I’ve never gotten around to that last thing.”

“Well, we can work on that,” Zeke said suggestively.

Kate gulped, wide-eyed and blushing. I smiled at them both. Good. If this happened, if they happened, I could move on. Good. This was good. Good good good.

“Your turn, Faith,” Kate said.

I took a hit, and did my best approximation of Kate’s cute girl giggle. Thoughts drifted out of the smoke around my brain, of Zeke, of Kate, of myself, of various permutations of the three of us. Sometimes all three of us. “My favorite drink is a Cosmopolitan. I’ve always wanted to go white-water rafting. I’m bisexual.”

A sense of relief, like Atlas’ burden was suddenly taken away from me, came all at once. I’d never actually said it out loud before, never let myself say the word in reference to myself. I’d never… Admitted it. Never actually admitted that I liked guys. Zeke, yes, but not guys in general. It was scary, as if I were afraid that people would look at me differently, as if I would be different, as if things between Zeke and I would change if he knew…

But I’d wanted things to change. I’d just been too scared and too stupid to try to make it happen.

“You don’t really seem like a white-water rafting girl,” Kate said.

“She’s not,” Zeke said. “That one is the lie.”

I smiled. They hadn’t even blinked. Neither of them had. Thank God. “Guilty as charged,” I said as I took another hit.

***

“Oh, yeah, I should probably give these back,” Kate said, reaching down her dress and pulling out the falsies.

“Keep ‘em,” I said, shaking my head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said.

Zeke had passed out, and was lying across the couch while Kate and I sat on the floor painting each other’s toenails. The hours had worn on, and on, and on, and both of us were so damned stoned it was clear that Kate wasn’t gonna be driving any time soon. She texted her parents that she would be home in time for her shift tomorrow. The clock was getting close to striking twelve, but the princess wasn’t leaving anytime soon. I was painting her nails pink, because she seemed like that kinda girl, while she was doing mine red, because I was that kind of girl.

“I just,” Kate said, “I feel like it’s gonna create expectations I can’t live up to, once my boobs actually start growing in.”

“Pffffttttt.”

“What?”

“I think you’ll be fine.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean your mom has got big bountiful bimbo bazongas, so you’ll probably have them as well.”

“What?!”

“Milf’s got them tig ol’ bitties-”

“Yeah, I heard you, I was just flabbergasted. Also, did you just refer to my mother as ‘milf.’”

“I calls it like I sees it. Just like I sees them honkin’ hooters-”

“You’re really determined to milk this joke, aren’t you?” Kate monotoned.

I cackled. “Was that on purpose?”

She smirked. “Might have been.”

“This conversation is udderly ridiculous,” Zeke said, his eyes still closed.

“You’re awake?!” Kate and I both shouted.

“Hard to sleep when you two are being so loud,” he laughed.

I felt myself blush; I SAW Kate blush. Honestly, it was a relief, knowing it wasn’t just me.

***

Morning came, and I woke up on the floor, snuggling something warm and soft, and smelling something greasy and delicious. I opened my eyes to find myself resting my head on Kate’s shoulder while we both leaned against the front of the couch, Lacus shoved between us as a shared neck-pillow. I slowly pulled myself away, making sure the plush seal was safely nestled in Kate’s arms, letting my eyes drift over to the kitchen.

Zeke was hard at work, cooking bacon and hash browns together on the cast iron skillet, while a plate of fresh strawberries sat in the center of the breakfast table next to a bowl of vanilla yogurt mixed with granola. The coffee maker fizzled with percolation, and our entire supply of orange juice had been placed into a glass pitcher I didn’t even know we owned.

“Dang, Underhill, pulling out all the stops,” I said as I wandered over to the kitchen and wafted the delicious smell of the breakfast food.

“It’s not too much, is it?” he said.

“Nah, I think you’ll be fine,” I said, leaning against the side of our stainless steel fridge.

“I just… Really wanted last night to be perfect, you know?”

“I get it. It seemed pretty great from where I was sitting though.”

“Yeah, but between Olivia and my parents and everything… It didn’t go quite as hoped. Thank you for helping out though- really came in clutch.”

“No problem,” I said, looking at the floor.

He looked at me, as if he were considering saying something. He opened his mouth.

I put a hand on his chest and said, “I was wrong about Kate. She’s fantastic. And she’s fantastic for you. Just don’t hurt her, okay? Everything is still new to her.”

He closed his mouth, and he nodded solemnly.

Part of me wished I’d let him say whatever it was he was about to say. I didn’t even know what it was, but it looked as if… No. No, I didn’t want to know. I’d had my window, let it hang open for a full year while I’d been too stubborn and too scared to go through it. Kate had seen the opening and jumped right on through because she was just braver than I was. She deserved him. I didn’t. And looking at her there, in that moment, the idea of doing anything to hurt her just seemed cruel beyond measure.

These two would work out. I’d move on. That was how it had to be.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Zeke said.

“I’ll wake up sleeping beauty, then,” I said.

As I nudged Katie awake and led her groggy ass to the breakfast table, I took in the sight before me. I was happy if he was happy, and what was more… I was happy if she was happy too. If this was how it had to be… Then I could learn to live with it.

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hrcbfmpl · 2 months

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Tite Kubo - artist and creator of Bleach

Bleach is set in the Human world, Soul Society, the Wandenreich, Hueco Mundo and Hell. When a human dies they bcome a spirit, soul reapers then find their spirits and fulfil their last wishes, then when they are happy, the soul reaper inserts their sword into the spirit which will either send the spirit to Soul Society or to Hell depending on how they acted suring their life. However, if the spirit harbours intense grudges or hatred and is not found by the soul reapers, the spirit can pull out a chain from its body which is a long and excruciating process. This will cause it to become a hollow and it will kill and eat humans and other hollows to grow stronger unless it is then killed by a soul reaper or a Quincy.

The story revolves around the main character, Ichigo, who becomes able to use soul reaper powers by separating his spirit from his body. He can then fight against the hollows which he was powerless against beforehand. He can also travel to the Soul Society and Hueco mundo through portals that can be opened by their respective populations.

This links in with the Dice theme, opening portals between the Human world Soul Society and Hueco Mundo.

Characters from Bleach:

Ulquiorra Cifer:

Ulquiorra Cifer is a Arrancar. This means he is a hollow which has removed their mask and gained humanoid form. Ulquiorra possesses immense speed, physical strength and agility. He has the ability to absorb and manipulate spiritual energy. He also has the ability to create powerful energy blasts and spears, capable of destroying entire cities. In his powered up form shown above, he gains a set of wings and the ability to regenerate from almost any injury. I have posted pictures of his swords further down in this post.

Ichigo Kurosaki:

Ichigo Kurosaki is the main character of Bleach. Ichigo is a human who finds out what spiritual energy is from Rukia, who gives him her ability to use it himself and the ability to separate his spirit from his body. When entering his spiritual form, he gains a sword, called a Zanpakuto and he gains black and white clothes which are linked to his spirit power through his sword. Ichigo's hair grows considerably during the course of the story, he gets taller and stronger. He has four black, vertical lines on his forearms and black, tattoo-like bands crossing over his chest, wrists and ankles in his later form. He also has white bands around his neck, like collars. He wears a black and white, flowing cloak in this form as well.

Rukia Kuchiki:

Rukia Kuchiki helps the main character to gain access to his spiritual energy, by transferring him her ability to access it. Rukia is short and petite, with black hair in a bob style. She wears a fingerless white Tekko, which extends above her elbows. She wears a robe, called a Shihakusho, which is a uniform of the Gotei 13. This is a white underclothing, black, short sleeved kimono style outfit, with white Tabi, which are Japanese style socks, under Waraji, which are tie on sandals made from rope style fibres.

Her sword is also shown further down in this post.

Kisuke Uruhara (+Yoruichi Shihouin):

Kisuke is a Soul Reaper in a fake human body, living in the human world. He is the creator of the fake human bodies that him and other Soul Reapers use while in the human world so that they are able to interact with humans. He also created the Hogyoku, which is a smalll, bluish-purple orb which is thought to have been composed of a unique substance, capable granting someone immense power, and evolving hollows into a form higher than they would have been able to achieve prior to its creation.

Kisuke is a tall, lean man with light skin and grey eyes. He has messy, light blond hair and chin stubble. He wears a dark green samue, which is a light fabric traditional work wear for the Japanese. Over the top of that he wears a black cloak and carries a fan, which he occasionally uses to hide his face. He wears traditional Japanese wooden sandals and a striped, dark green and white hat.

Sword research:

Ulquiorra's sword:

This is a typical Japanese anime katana, with green webbing round the handle, a guard, then a long, silver blade. The sword itself is named "Murcielago".

Toshiro's sword:

This, again is a typical Japanese anime katana style sword. Toshiro's has purple webbing around the handle, with a star shaped guard, and a long, silver blade. The sword itself is named "Hyorinmaru".

Rukia's sword:

This is the most detailed sword of the characters, with a long, flowing ribbon coming out of the handle at the pommel end. Rukia's sword has a completely white blade, matching its ability of using ice as an attack. The sword itself is named "Sodeno Shirayuki" and is stated as being the most beautiful in all of Soul Society.

Here is the website for Bleach and the Wikipedia page for the creator:

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firstmassiveproject · 1 year

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Research - What makes a building game good?

youtube

Here is a video that I have watched that goes through all of the building games that this content creator like. The majority of the games have a large world for the players to explore and visit. The content creator does say in the video that graphics are not always the answer to make your game popular, it is the features in that game and the story behind it that adds to how good the game is. Here is my opinions on the games that he has included in his video.

Stranded Deep

I find that this game has a lot similar with other games, however how it introduces these features to the game makes it interesting to play. The game includes a normal plane crash like every survival game does and spawns the player in the ocean around the island. This helps introduce the player to the game and tell them where they must go first. There are multiple different islands that the player can visit and explore, which is very similar with other games like this (Subnautica). For my game, it will include a world that the player can explore with different islands, however at this point in time I do not have a good idea of what should be on these islands. This game also includes multiplayer functionality so you can enjoy the game with your friends.

Green Hell

I love how the developers of this game have tried their best of making the game as realistic as possible by adding a range of different animals for the player to hunt and to be killed by. I am not a big fan of the tribe in the game that travel around the map as it changes the game to be more like the Forest. You can tell this game is heavily inspired by the forest, but with different textures. I like how there are lots of different tools that you can build inside of the game, however this will not be helpful for the game that I am making. This game also includes multiplayer support which in my opinion makes the game more enjoyable to play.

Valheim

The style that the developers have gone for in this game is amazing. Everything is low resolution however there is a intense lighting engine and a lot of scenery and terrain features that it makes the game look good. This is something you don't normally see in a game like this, making it original. The multiplayer aspect of the game makes it even better as you can invite your friends to join in with you as you explore the world and fight enemies/bosses.

The Forest

The forest is nearly one of the best featured games on this list as it includes multiplayer support as well as VR support. The player crash lands on a island like the majority of survival games and gets visited by the tribe of the island (cannibals). The player must build tools and buildings to survive. There are different areas that the player can explore such as caves and boats. In the caves, the player can find different tools such as dynamite, axes e.t.c. The game as a story that the player can follow if they would like. In the caves, the player will find a range of different breeds of cannibals or "monsters" that are strong or weak, requiring the player to have tools and weapons able to fight them. Towards the end of the game, the player will find themselves at the entrance of a secret laboratory that the player will find the last boss. The player has the choice after the boss fight to turn off the laser that shot down his plane or to keep it on for the next one to be shot down.

Subnautica

Subnautica is a special game as its one of the only underwater games to the degree that they have mad it. In Subnautica you explore around the underwater depths for food and materials/minerals. The player can also explore the crashed ship to find information on what happened. The story of the game starts off with the player in a drop pod after their ship has been destroyed by a laser on the planet, the player is then in the middle of the ocean with some islands far away. After some time in the game, the ship near the player will explode causing the player to have to wear special equipment to keep them safe.

Subsistence

Like the content creator said, the game resembles rust in may ways however the main difference is that the game is more PVE than anything. The game also does not look as good as rust for graphics. I like how there are different thing that you can build in the game and how you can raid other players in the game just like Rust.

Out of all of these games, there is not much that I would take from them. All of these games have building that is inside of the world so all players can build at 1 time compared to stormworks where you have your own building area and menu for the player to build. In my opinion I think the building menu in stormworks would be better for my game and maybe in the future I might make multiplayer support for building. The majority of these games also include enemies and bosses that the player can defeat. I may include this on the islands that are around the main island to make the game more enjoyable to play.

#youtube #game research

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disneytva · 3 years

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Kiff Gets Panel At Lightbox Expo Where Nic Smal and Lucy Heavens Give Details On Becoming The First South African Animators In Landing A Show At Disney

Kiff won’t arrive to Disney Afternoon Saturday Mornings on Disney Channel with Big City Greens, The Owl House, The Ghost And Molly McGee,Hamster And Gretel and Moon Girl And Devil Dinosaur till 2023 and we won’t see some footage from her till SDCC 2022 or NYCC 2022 but that dosn’t matter since Creators and executive producers Lucy Heavens and Nic Smal talked about their careers and the lessons they’ve learned on the road to the green light for their new animated series and also giving early details on the show

- Kiff is about a very intense squirrel Kiff and her bunny best friend bestie Barry both of them love each other more than life itself (No shippers this is not Starco 2.0) the show focuses them in them each day in relatable stuff from our lifes

-The series comedy comes from the creators daily lives and our regular activities in life : brushing teeth, family, friends, neighboors etc..

-Lucy and Nic met talking about how big fans of animation they are and they met discussing a very obscure The Simpsons S4 episode

- Nic started in the industry 15 years ago with storyboarding and when you’re in South Africa there isn’t a real passion of work in the shows they work.

- Nic and Lucy are big fans of shows like Rick And Morty, Spongebob Squarepants and Gravity Falls

- Nic found job in commercials and advertising, for both of them is just making funny cartoons

-Nic mentions that during making animation and musical stuff, he really got to practice in his art and mentions “if you don’t do animation by yourself,nobody is going to do it” and with that in mind you can practice stuff and learn more

-Nic’s musical experience was in bands in High School and learning different musical instruments and genres: punk, rock, country, acapella etc..

-Nic’s time with music became a hobby when he found out that he can combine music and comedy and that became helpful with his own experience and using that for the development of the series.

-Lucy is a writter and she started by writting plays at schools and she didn’t loved doing live action stuff and when she got a writting job on a animated series,she learned trought the process in how things work in the industry.

- Nic and Lucy are very collaborative, Nic is artist that creates stories and Lucy is a writter who creates art, if you can find the right person to collaborate then it’s a fun job when you have to go trought developing a show in animation

-Kiff took 3 years to get greenlight

-When they where creating Kiff in 2019 they wanted to make a great animated comedy and they just did it for fun,they didn’t care if it will get greenlight for a series or get greenlight for a pitch,for them was just fun.

-They really wanted to create a world where they can have fun stories,fun characters and a place where you say: this can be the place for a fun party and that it dosn’t talk down to kids

- Like Phineas And Ferb, Milo Murphy’s Law, The Ghost And Molly McGee, Kiff will have one song in every episode,

-They had alot of fun writting the songs and playing with different genres of music and that not only the music will talk to kids but also you and that empowers you and makes you see the world

- They wanted to make a series that captures the themes of friendship, family and besides writting for kids they also writte the show for themselves

- Stories came from their daily lives and how much relatable stories can be for not only kids but other people since everyone is fighting their own battle

- Kiff the character is a combination of Nic and Lucy’s personality.

- The series is being written in both South Africa and Los Angeles

- Lucy comes up with a character and Nic provides the visual style for them

- Nature has been one of the main providers for color paletts and backgrounds for Kiff’s island

-Nic and Lucy writte the songs for the show, Nic is the talent for producing the tracks and using instruments, Nic’s electric guitars have the colors of Kiff and Barry

- Nic uses acoustic guitar, ukelele, electric guitar, pìano, drums etc...

- Names for characters always come weird places and random moments

Kiff Debuts in 2023 on Disney Channel

#Kiff #Disney's Kiff #Nic Smal #Lucy Heavens #Disney Channel

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quwarichi · 3 years

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"The writers are-" not to blame, and here's why

Usually, I ignore these posts saying "the writers are so bad, blaming COVID or whatever for the finale", but today I saw a mutual reblogging one of those, and I just went "shit, I'm gonna have to say it aren't I?"

Let's settle this; the writers (sans BL) are good at their job. But that's very general, calling them the writers. Each episode of all the seasons so far has been composed by a different person, even if we do have the rotating cast of them. Season 15's writers are made of Andrew Dabb (executive producer and co-showrunner since season 12), Meredith Glynn (producer), Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (aka BL, executive producers), Bobo Berens (executive co-producer and story editor), Davy Perez (co-producer), Jeremy Adams, Meghan Fitzmartin, and Steve Yockey (producer).

Those are 8 writers for season 15, each in charge of 2-3 episodes or less (Meghan and Jeremy wrote one each) and that was that. I'd like to point out, though this might be just my personal opinion, that the show had made leaps and bounds in the growth of both characters and themes since Dabb took over, starting with season 12, I won't dive into that too much. Might make another post about that later.

So the process of writing a season for a show like supernatural, as far as I know as a person who doesn't work in the TV industry, goes a little something like this;

1. What is the season arc? A season arc, for those confused, is the drive of the story - the big problem they need to be solving, a threat looming over their heads constantly. There's one every season, usually paired with a deadline or a bad guy about to do bad guy things. For season 15, it was the fight for free will, at last, and the bad guy was Chuck.

2. Once they figure out the season arc, it's time to decide what they need to do to move the plot along, leaving a few key moments that must be inserted. There are also the character arcs to consider, which were especially important in the last season, to really wrap up their journey (I see you, Dabb, and your 15.10). The character arcs and the story arc usually intertwine at some point, to create motivations for the characters to act. We've seen it with season 10, season 11, season 12, and so forth.

3. And when the character and story arcs are done, the writers (8) divide and start crafting their episodes.

That's the writers, that's their jobs.

For anyone living under a rock, this season made destiel endgame part of the show's text, not the subtext. It was part of the plot, and it drove it. Two character arcs were relying on that plot, and it helped with the main story arc at the end. Bobo Berens, the mastermind behind 9.06 and so forth, wrote 15.03 (their breakup) 15.09 (their make up) 15.12 (their engagement), and finally 15.18 (the confession). Yes, Dean didn't get to say it back. Yes, killing Cas immediately after he said I love you is horrible and I hate it. Was it touching? Of course. Was it heartbreaking? Definitely. But was it Bobo's fault Dean wouldn't say I love you back? Absolutely not.

Bobo is an executive producer - an executive producer is usually the creator, writer, and showrunner of the show, meaning that he not only helps actively create the show, but he also helps write the script, and run the day-to-day production operations. He gets to do stuff most ordinary writers don't. But he answers to the network, like all other producers. And here comes the so-called villain, the one you've all been hating, but using the wrong name for:

The network.

The network producing SPN, the CW, is owned by WB, and those are a lot of acronyms, but they're important. You must realize that the writers, for the start of the season, told us exactly who's the villain. Here's an excellent article explaining why the meta-narrative is important for the show and how the TV Gods Are Watching. I'll be making a brief recounting of the article.

Chuck is the network, not the writers. He's the avatar embodying the network's push for the ending they believe would sell. The network's interested in money, not the fans. If the true ending might mean openly-queer characters and found-family of misfitted orphans, clustered together for the love they chose, not had to accept - it would mean that some people who watch the show, the demographic the network likes to think the show had most of, won't like it. Won't buy the DVD, won't watch the reruns. They also wouldn't be able to sell this to countries that are not okay with queer people, or that disapprove of the message the show would be trying to send.

Chuck is the network because he's pushing for an ending, a horrible ending, that he believes is what needs to happen next. Without the network's green light, nothing may air. The ending the writers wanted for this show, so evident in interviews and in the arc of the story, wasn't able to happen not because of lack of creativity or a big hard-on for fetishizing manpain. It was because it was the ending we wanted, and it couldn't do.

If you want more clarity, my advice is to go back to 15.04, visit the Becky and Chuck scenes - but imagine that instead of them, you're watching the network (Chuck) arguing with the writers (Becky).

The writers tried their best and crafted 18 beautiful, lovely episodes. Then another one that could've worked nicely if 20 went the original way. So don't go blaming the writers, throwing around "the writers this" and "the writers that". Blame the network. Scorn the CW, scorn WB, even. They're the ones who took our ending.

#i snapped #six months later and i'm still not over it #the writers did nothing wrong #(besides BL but we ignore that)#i just took a forty minute break of writing my fic to write this post because i am done #stop saying it was the writers they did nothing #they crafted 1518 #they did their best #spn #fuck the cw #spn writers #spn meta #chi's meta #spn season 15

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land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 3 years

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Maid of Breath

Freedom, leadership, leaving a lasting mark on the people and places we meet and go to; such a thing is a dream that countless people fight towards. They struggle, and they crawl through the mud and rain so that they may finally get a taste - a single drop - of the power that comes from such a grand thing. Countless people holding their breath as their lungs begin to burn and throb from the inside. All because they believe that if they suffocate themselves long enough, they will eventually finish their ascent to the top of the mountain, food chain, ladder, what have you. After all, the air at the top is so thin, so finite, that to take the deepest gasp of air may be taking far more than they need. Such a greedy act is a red flag for a bad leader, and so they will be reprimanded as such - ejected from where they once sat and sent plummeting all the way to the very bottom of their societal hierarchy.

Of course, not everyone is born at the bottom of this structure. There may be some people who are fortunate enough to be born somewhere higher up on it, though their position is never fully promised to remain the same forever. It’s an ongoing battle; getting to the very top of it all and finally having that privilege to look down upon everyone, spitting at those who may once have believed themselves better or far more qualified than you. Watch as they stare up from their pitiful placements, eyes full of determination that is simultaneously ever-burning yet slowly dwindling out. A snake eating its own tail for eternity.

However, it would be unwise to think one’s own place at the top will last forever. After all, much like how anyone can be born at any level below, so, too, can others be born any level above. There will always have been those born at the very top, even if those before them in their bloodline were once climbers. What matters is that they were here first, that this is their kingdom, they are the ones who rule over it and they will never let it go. Born into their place at the top, they will do whatever it takes to ensure that nothing, or no one, threatens their rightful placement. After all, once the top has been reached, all there is left to do is go back down.

Now, so far this may have raised some questions; how does this relate to Breath, or even the Maid themself? Well, to be quite blunt, the Maid of Breath is one of those people born quite high on the societal hierarchy. In fact, one might even go as far as to argue that they were born at the very top. Whether this truly is the case for all Maids of Breath is most likely a debatable topic, though it can’t be argued that these creators tend to be rather privileged in many senses of the word. Fame, wealth, status, looks, if you can name a privilege, then at least a dozen or so Maids of Breath will have it in their pockets.

Although this may sound like the Maid of Breath is yet another ignorant and foolish higher class person, much akin to the Knight of Light, that is only partially true. It’s not that the Maid chose to be this way, or to be born into such an empirical state of life and business. No, this most certainly has to do with their Classpect, and how it has already set itself and the Maid up for a life of spoiled luxury. After all, when you stand upon the largest stage of the world with countless people staring at you through one lens or another, it’s undeniable that somehow, someway, you’d end up becoming an influencer of sorts. Which is to say, no matter how much the Maid of Breath may try to be their own person, those who look up to them will inevitably end up copying everything that they say and do.

Having countless people watching everything that they do, this life of leadership and influence is one that greatly weighs down on the Maid day-in and day-out. This is not something they wished to have, nor would ever have dreamed of wanting. Yet from atop the hierarchy do they look down at everyone else, involuntarily so, knowing that everyone else trying to climb to the top do not realize the true price of power. As much as people look up to the Maid of Breath, voluntarily so, there will always be those who do not look up to them with respect nor kindness.

Even some of the Maid’s most loving admirers will sometimes have moments of harshness towards the Maid - moments of scorn, judgement, and beratement towards them. No matter how much they may remind their followers that they are always free to stop - to go and leave them - these remarks are often ignored. So they stay, and continue to call to the Maid for solutions, help, and support, all the while occasionally leaving them ragged and distressed. Not ever do they think for a moment of taking time for themself, however, for they know the vicious judgement and hissed criticisms to come from such selfish behavior.

The Maid of Breath is a leader, after all, and a good leader is one who always finds a way to persevere no matter their state of being or circumstances. Besides, they’re living in the lap of luxury compared to countless others - compared to their countless followers and fans - so what do they truly have to complain about? Everyone else is dealing with their own problems, oftentimes at a far greater disadvantage than the Maid, after all. It is this line of thinking that the Maid will begin to keep quiet of their struggles, and instead begin to dedicate themself to doing just that - to being a leader, an influencer, and helping those who need it the most. After all, a good leader does not show weakness or cowardice. A good leader shows bravery and strength, mentally, physically, and spiritually. All the while collecting more faithful, yet critical, followers, alongside those who have a far more green-eyed vision locked on the Maid of Breath and their spot on the hierarchy. All the while, the power of the Maid’s Aspect and its control over their life grows.

Time would pass as normal, uncaring for the Maid and their struggles with their Aspect. As much as the Maid tries to dedicate themself to their role as a leader, there is still a constant foul after taste in their mouth when they finish speaking to their followers. It feels as though the very air they breathe becomes contaminated by them merely opening their mouth. When they speak, it feels as though they struggle to choke out every word they say, as though the very atmosphere they live in is trying to suffocate or drown them. None of it feels right or even authentic; it always feels like they are reading off of a script, saying what people want to hear rather than what they need. The Maid always gives the people want, but never gives what they themself need.

It may appear as though the Maid has locked themself in their own handmade shackles of destiny - and they are shackles that they will eventually grow tired of. They made these shackles themself, meaning that they have the key to unlock them at any moment; but they refuse. They refuse, because to release themself of their leadership duties would mean letting down an immeasurable amount of people. It would mean the Maid would have to admit that they were wrong, that they were in over their head, and that they are no better than the fools who continue trying to climb up the hierarchy. After all, to be at the very top means to be the best of the best, an idol, a guiding light, or perhaps even something more, something less human, to look up to. If such a person were to show vulnerability, well; let’s not forget that even those at the top are not promised to remain in their thrones forever.

However, it is not just those below them that pose an ever-looming threat of disappointment, disapproval, and more. Those that sit with them at the very top, the other rulers of the people below them, the ones who get to sit at the table while the peasants run about and sleep on the streets; these are the other outside forces that know how much pressure to apply to the Maid in order to get them to behave and keep others in check. Of course, there is always the continuous, internal strain and battle with their very own Aspect, as well. How it so deeply wishes to overtake and control the Maid, whispering to them all of its two-faced promises of gifts, fortune, and love. All the Maid has to do is sacrifice their humanity, humbleness, and humility - all they have to do is no longer care what anyone thinks of them.

For the Maid of Breath, their Aspect is one that began its terrible reign before they were ever even born - before they drew their very first breath. They were born into their Aspect, though their situation has always been much like the baby trapped in its cradle that sits atop the tree. One wrong gust of wind, and the Maid themself will end up plummeting to the ground - losing all that they had. Their credibility, fame, wealth, privilege, and leadership; all of it could so easily be lost if the Maid is not careful and light on their feet, but they best be careful with how exactly high up they manage to jump from tree top to tree top. If they jump too high, they’ll most certainly end up at the mercy of their Aspect. Needless to say, the Maid is that of a minnow, with their Aspect being one of a great, graceful, yet gluttonous crane; waiting to strike and consume the Maid of Breath entirely.

Yet none of the Maid’s followers ever see this side of them - they never see this internal struggle that continuously wages on inside of them every day that they are alive. Granted, this is because the Maid of Breath has always made certain not to show anyone, not even their own family or team, these issues that they have. Maids will dedicate themselves to many things, and being a good leader, a good role model, is one of the many things that they have decided to swear themself into. However, there are only a few issues with this plan of theirs. Do not think for a moment that these issues are small, either.

Some of these issues involve the fact that the Maid always has to be doing something in order to keep the attention of others. Of course, some people may say that all the Maid has to do is say one witty joke or show something shiny and spectacular, but it often is far more than that. The people who do say such things are the ones who tend to be gunning for the Maid of Breath’s placement on the hierarchy, or even in whatever group they find themself to be a part of. However, these cases of showmanship often go far deeper than what appears on the surface. Meticulous planning, formatting, organizing and more is one of the other things many Maids of Breath dedicate themselves too. For as quick moving as their life may be, it could be argued that this habit of organizations is one of the few ways the Maid takes back control over their life, but most importantly over their Aspect.

Back on the note of how stressful the life of an influencer is, the Maid is one who knows just how easy it is for them to lose their footing from atop the stage that they are on. Chances are that in their lifetime, they have seen fellow leaders rise and fall within such short windows of time. One of the many reasons for this happening is often because they grew cocky and self-centered; so much so that when the stagelight finally blinded them, all of the people beneath them took hold and cast them off of their stage. For the Maid of Breath, they most certainly are someone who has grown used to the siren song of selfishness - but it is one that they refuse to call. Every move that they take, every word that they speak, every last micro expression that their face twitches out is one of calculation of precision - all because they are scared to fall, but are still too scared to be blown away by their Aspect.

The top of the world seems so beautiful and enchanting from the bottom, but it is so horribly lonely when one finds themself at the summit. The air is so thin and frail, and there is little to no life in such a cruel environment. All that is to hear is the whipping, hissing winds of the atmosphere, and the incessant chatter of arrogant fools. Although they are surrounded by champions just like them, all they can ever talk about are the same things over and over - like a broken record that never stops spinning. For someone born of an Aspect that embodies freedom, the Maid of Breath is one who often feels like they have nowhere to run or hide as the world around them continues to try and suffocate them. A hundred hands all clasped around their throat, applying a constant pressure against their windpipe. The Maid of Breath may appear to have all the power in the world, but that is so very far from the truth.

The social life of the Maid is one of great complexity and unsurity. As grand of a following as they have with countless people looking up to the Maid for leadership and guidance across multiple issues, their social life is most certainly not anything to write home about. Part of this is because the Maid holds themself to a promise of not seeking out any form of companionship; once again linking back to their fears of failing as a leader. If they are to become a true friend to any of their followers only for that connection to sour - for it surely will - what will become of their reputation? Will the secrets they share together be laid out for all to see? All of their controversial opinions, flaws, and lies; dirty laundry left to be gawked at from those who remain at the bottom. Such a fear is near paralyzing for the Maid of Breath, and so they often steer away from making any meaningful connections with those they are in contact with.

However, there is also the outward influence of their fellow champions and rulers - those who were also born at the very peak, and those who sit upon their thrones. They are all people of such high status and regard, figures that millions of people see but will never, ever be able to truly touch. Figures of purity and perfection left untouched and untainted by the calloused, scarred, and bloodied hands of the climbers. Why would anyone want to go out and break this tradition - this unspoken rule - of maintaining the divided boundaries between those who sit on top and those who wallow at the bottom?

A tree only associates with the dirt as a means of survival; stealing away the nutrients offered by it, allowing for the tree to grow larger and larger every day. The tree gives nothing in return to the dirt, because it does not need to. The Maid does not need to give anything back to their followers, but that does not mean they will not try. All of those at the top may get to look down at the other levels beneath them, scoffing, spitting, and swinging down at them; but it is ultimately the Maid of Breath who comes to realize the unfairness of the system they live in. It is them who realizes their privilege, and will do everything in their power to try and dismantle it as best as they can.

As much as the Maid of Breath may fear their secrets being revealed, or experiencing any sense of betrayal from a wolf hiding beneath woolen clothing, finding a way to lash out and rebel against their life - their Aspect - is something that slowly begins to take over the Maid’s priorities. People from all over the hierarchy still come to them with their problems and insecurities. People still seek out a leader from the Maid of Breath. Such awareness is what leads the Maid to seek out a way to bridge that gap between their followers, and themself. No more hierarchy, no more binary roles of leaders and followers, no longer will they be the only one seen as responsible for everyone’s needs.

The Maid of Breath knows that their place on this mountain is not forever - that there will always be someone who will come around and surpass them; an Heir to the throne of leadership. After all, once the cleaner of the castle has done all that they can do, where are they to go except where others cannot see or hear them? Such a fate has been certain for the Maid of Breath ever since they took their very first breath of thin, frail air at the top of this mountain. They will rule, and then they will be forgotten - cast out from their place upon the very top. Once upon a time, such a thought horrified them and brought them endless amounts of agonizing and anxiety. Countless nights of sleep lost over their fear of losing their place atop the mountain, and for what, in the end?

A leader who has grown tired of being in the spotlight at all times, who has dreamed of the days where they get to fill their lungs with heavy, thick air. A person who no longer wants to be the hero, and instead wishes to take back what has been so wrongfully stripped from them. They have suffered in silence for countless years - having a mouth but never being allowed to ever scream. Now that they have grown so tired of the whims and wants of not only the people around them, but also their Aspect within themself, a storm has started brewing. Within the very heart of these winds of change will be the Maid - the very focal point of it being them and their Aspect clashing against each other.

Two forces of immense energy finally colliding, all the while with outside forces continuing to try and rip them both apart. An episode of untethered emotions, tossed aside logic, and frenzied bouts of inward and outward destruction. Everything the Maid has ever been born into and worked towards comes crumbling in their hands, if only purely by their own design. A sense of freedom not only for them, but everyone else around them; the freedom of no longer having a role to fit into.

In the setting of being part of a group - or even a session - this culmination of their breaking point would most certainly be a threat of compromise for everyone involved. After all, they are someone who is meant to help lead everyone to their goals, accidentally or otherwise. They are meant to be the one who fixes what is wrong along this strenuous journey. Most importantly, they are meant to act as one of the few people capable of holding everyone and everything together. However, such a role is one the Maid no longer wishes to be burdened with - especially if it means that they will only be continuously used and abused by those around them.

Most importantly, though, is that this breakdown has been sparked by one of the deepest desires they have had for their entire life. The desire to be normal - to have a life that is their own and only their own. No copy-cats, no followers, no rivals, controversies, or scrutiny. All they have ever wanted was to feel as though they can truly breathe, laugh, and smile without someone else making a pointless remark or criticism of it. The Maid of Breath has wanted to feel alive - to be alive - for so many years now.

Even as they have this complete and unadulterated breakdown for all to see, never before have they felt more alive than when they are tearing themself apart; from the inside and out. It’s one of the first times they have ever felt in real control over their actions, as self destructive as this freedom may be. However, so comes the precise question of what exactly this dismantling of their Aspect looks like. As extravagant as it may be spoken of, the reality of it is one far less fantastical - much like the flight and fall of the Maid of Breath themself.

For the Maid of Breath, this descent down the mountain is not a pleasant stroll or graceful flight. No, it is something far messier - a spiral, one might even call it. It would start off far more subtle at first with the Maid. A mistake here, an accident there - giving the wrong orders to the wrong person, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, throwing shade when they deem things far too bright. Controversies would start to pile up more and more with the Maid as they would speak such ugly words, commit such atrocious actions, and perform the most outraging acts of defiance. Their entire world would become divided in those who still supported the Maid, and those who began to lose faith and trust in their true capability as a leader and influencer.

In their very own friend group, such a divide would slowly begin to form amidst the people inside of it. More misleading directions would be given, and ill-willed guidance would be spoken to those still foolish enough to come to the Maid for help. Once a kind and caring person, the Maid of Breath would become someone of grand petty and volatile anger. Even to the people who they still trust and love will be subjected to those rapidly changing winds - the electric energy of rage that always seems to follow the Maid wherever they go. For the friend, or friends, who believes themself capable enough to calm this internal storm, they would be surely mistaken.

During this entire fall of their empire, of losing the trust of all their followers, the Maid has slowly been losing more and more of their Aspect. A leader who was once competent, organized, and calculating now sits amidst a slowly burning throne room. Even as they can feel the smoke and polluted air fill their lungs, they still can’t help but smile so widely. Freedom, they think, this is what real freedom tastes like. Freedom from their responsibilities, devotions, and, most importantly, their Aspect itself.

For as long as they continue this descent away from the very top, they will be deemed a traitor to those who stand where they once stood. On the flip side, they will only be seen as another stepping stone or gateway to success for those far lower on the hierarchy. If it means ridding themself of even more of their Aspect, then the Maid will happily hold that gate open to not only the upper ranks, but for people to take a piece of their Aspect along the way. If they truly wish to see what is at the top, who is the Maid to decline them such a privilege? If they believe themself to be capable of being a better leader, why not allow for them to try it out? Let them learn for themself how much of a sham it really is to be a leader - to do all of this work for everyone beneath you and never get anything in return.

The Maid of Breath was once a person some may describe as selfless; always finding a way to make their efforts about everyone else rather than themself. During this dismantling of their Aspect now, though, such a fact is something that has also been put under scrutiny. After all, they are leaving others to try and take up that space of leadership that so desperately needs to be filled - they’re even going as far as to help out and encourage others. However, those far more knowledgeable know exactly what the Maid does; at the end of the day, no one will ever be able to fully replace the Maid when it comes to their leadership abilities. All of it will come crashing and burning down - a beautiful showing of fiery rain from the Heavens above. For themself, they wish to be standing at the very bottom of this societal mountain when this structure of insecure power finally comes crashing down.

Yet, as much as the Maid would wish to have a normal life and to see such a sight, there comes an issue that they did not anticipate. For every ship that sails, there must be the wind that pushes it. For every bird that soars into the sky, the wind is what keeps it afloat. For everything to remain alive and intact, the air must never still nor ever cease. Although people do not have wings, we must still find our own gusts of wind to keep us pushing forward in life. This is what the Maid of Breath so foolishly and haphazardly neglected to think about.

During their journey away from their Aspect - having it be stolen and destroyed along the way - so would eventually come the moment where things become far more dire than they could have anticipated. Their dreams - their heart - says to completely abandon it all - the mountain, the hierarchy, their position at the top of it all. However, it is their mind that says otherwise; it is their mind that tells them that things cannot be maintained in a state such as this. All of the Breath that they have lost has started to take its toll on them, and they are beginning to feel far more detached from it all. Far less motivated, lively, and driven.

Sitting down and taking even a moment to think, all they can feel at that point is exhaustion. The weight of existence finally coming and crashing itself down unto them, and slowly they begin to see the flaws in their plans. As much as it may pain the Maid to come and realize this, they are someone who was never meant to lead a normal life. Or, at the very least, a life like that of the common people. Being an influencer - a leader - is ultimately what their normal is supposed to be. It’s what they were born to do - to be. Where they sit now, what is happening in their life right now, is the furthest from normal they have ever been. It is here that they realize they didn’t want normality in their life - they just wanted a break from it all; a feeling of actual freedom.

Their mental health had been deteriorating for so long, and no one did anything to stop or fix it. No, that’s not true. Some did try, but the Maid had pushed all of them and their attempts away. Because, at that point, their fall from grace had already been happening for a horrifically long amount of time. Now here the Maid sits - scared, lost, and, ultimately, alone. Their biggest fear of being a leader that will be surpassed and forgotten - left to become irrelevant - now having come true, all by their own hands. As much as they may wish for this to be some Doomed Timeline, that is unfortunately not the case for someone such as them. They are living through their deepest fear at this very moment, and so now comes one of the most important questions of their life: What will they do now?

One of the biggest ways for freedom to manifest itself is in choice, especially when one is left to make that very decision of their own accord. For the Maid of Breath, it could be argued that this is the closest they have ever gotten to tasting true, individual freedom. Yet they will pause, and they will ponder. For although the structure they rest on is slowly crumbling in their absence, they still cannot help but be fearful as to how much influence their Aspect still holds over them in this moment. It has managed to give them everything anyone else in the world could ever dream of, but it has managed to strip and steal away all that the Maid has ever wanted at the same time. Time waits for no one, though, and the sands are slowly beginning to bury the Maid in a coffin of their own mind’s making.

There would come a rift inside of the Maid - them versus theri Aspect. Such an internal feud is one not unfamiliar to either of them. Both sides would make their arguments, and both would lay out countless points that would be both good and bad. All that the Maid has ever wanted was to experience the world as an individual, not an idol. No one can truly help what situation they are born into, their Aspect would argue back. How are they meant to sit quietly on the backs and shoulders of those below them, knowing the suffering they are going through? Why must they benefit from the oppression of others? They don’t, and they never did. The choice was always there for them to leave their throne and allow for it to be taken by someone else, yet they didn’t.

Because the Maid of Breath is a walking paradox. Someone made of and meant to embody their Aspect - the good and the bad; that is who the Maid ultimately is. To be made of Breath is to be made of leadership, that much is true. However, it also means to be made of freedom - of liberation. Free of restrictions, rules, and boundaries, capable of adapting to whatever climate of the situation they find themself in. That is who they are meant to be, and yet they are only now taking their first steps towards actually using this freedom. Why, they would be questioned, why now? When their empire is ablaze and their head is full of fog?

Fear and anxiety - that’s why. More specifically, the fear and anxiety of stepping out of line, of breaking out of the mold made to perfectly fit them, and of being seen as nothing more than another promising child turned troubled youth. An act of internal self destruction for their own mental health that has been years in the making, and has now finally hatched. The Maid has not taken the plunge for they are afraid their wings will never be strong enough to carry them and their emotional baggage. They were afraid that by leaving their mold, all that would be left is their Aspect - ravenous and starved for the Maid and their attention. Yet here the two sit now, ripped at the seams and unsure what is left for either of them to do. Neither can ever truly live without one another for they are two forces bound by hands neither could ever even think of seeing. What the two can do, however, is learn to compromise and meet in the middle - closing the rift that has separated them for far too many years.

It would be a lie to say that the Maid no longer holds any mistrust towards their Aspect. However, the truth of how truly important they are for the group to function is something they cannot deny. Their friends need them as much as the Maid needed them throughout all these years. The only difference is that this time, there is no doubt that the Maid’s healing presence will be heartily welcomed back with open arms and smiling faces. After all, this is a mess crafted and executed by their own hands, and so now it is one they must clean up and fix.

During this part of their journey will the powers of the Maid truly begin to shine and take shape, most often because this is a journey meant for self reflection and personal healing. Although the Maid of Breath may be returning to the group in hopes of righting the wrongs, they must first fix what has been wronged inside of themself. Which is to say, they must learn to create their Aspect - thus healing it - before they can even think of creating the lack of Breath amidst their group.

This is a process that is meant to be taken slow and carefully, much like any other process of healing. Coming back down from their heightened state of fear and unsurity, it is meant to be a slow fall back down to the emotional Earth within their heart and mind. However, in knowing that time is of the essence, and how desperately their friends are in need of a true and proper leader, the Maid of Breath would start their journey of creation and healing far quicker than most other Maids would. Naturally, they would want to be returning to their friend group as fast as possible - charging into the blazing inferno that is their friend group and its internal hierarchy. As weak as their Aspect may be in this moment, that rush to always be on the move and pushing forward is still most certainly a piece of them that has persisted. As long as the Maid believes themself capable of cutting corners to get to their destination as soon as possible, they will try their best to do just that.

Such a mistake is common in Maids of Breath just starting out their journey. Little do they know is that this mistake can often hold them back rather than propel them further ahead. The reason for this is that in order for the Maid to even come close to creating the tiniest instance of Breath, they must first learn and understand their Aspect to the best of their abilities. After all, how is someone meant to create something they know next to nothing about? Not only that, but the Maid themself still has their own wounds and scars to tend to before they can even start healing the ones their friends have collected.

In the journey of developing their powers, there are two important things the Maid would have to come and learn, as well as internalize. The first is patience - learning when to let the air sit still and peaceful around them and their friends, and when to simply sit and breathe. Chances are that the Maid of Breath is one who has convinced themself that so long as they are not on the grind of work, then they are wasting away time and life, even if they are taking a well needed break. By learning this patience, they will learn the second most important thing any Maid should learn, though the Maid of Breath is one who especially needs this skill. This second skill is setting up boundaries, and reinforcing them.

However, during all of this, a certain question may have popped up for a few. How is the Maid meant to learn these skills if they are so eager to wrap things up so quickly? Surely they can find some way to do it on their own, right? For some fully aligned and awakened Maids of Breath, it is true that they most certainly can proudly say that they did it all on their own, but such a journey is one very similar to a double-edged sword. During their journey, there most certainly are at least two ways the Maid of Breath may go about learning about their Aspect, and just how they can create, and heal it.

The first path they can choose is one of isolation and possible loneliness, but undisturbed or uninterrupted reflection and self-teaching. This journey is often chosen by the Maids of Breath who feel far too ashamed to truly face their friends and group just yet, or at least by those that are aware of how they are not healed enough to go back to a place that has harmed them before. Although they have the best intentions in mind for themself and their group, such a journey is one that often ends the same - or at least similar.

By essentially sealing themself away from others, the Maid is left with only themself and their Aspect as a means of company. The journey of the Maid is not a short one, nor is it easy. It is one that will involve meticulous self disciplining, as well as learning when to pull the reins on themself and their Aspect. Very few Maids of Breath choose this option, and for good reason. The repetitive nature of these self taught lessons can lead one's mental health to continue deteriorating, especially if they are far more critical of themself than anyone else.

If these Maids of Breath who follow this path are not careful, then they could so easily make it near impossible for them to continue onward at all. Even for those that do, they still run the risk of becoming perfectionists when it comes to their skills as a person, and as a leader. Not only that, but oftentimes these Maids of Breath will end up becoming the leaders who find it difficult to associate with the people in their group. Which is to say, due to their prolonged isolation, companionship of any kind is difficult for them. So much so that, in some cases, they actively try to avoid it in fear that all of their self discipline will be ruined.

They often take their roles far more seriously than the other group of Maids, thinking it more as a job than anything else. Because of this, the overall attitude of these Maids of Breath would most likely shift dramatically into something a few friends may see as odd. What once was a young person full of boundless joy and shining optimism now stands a hardened, rigid person with an emotional outer shell tough enough to be called carapace. Far more stern and serious in everything that they do, and every situation they find themself in, the Maids of Breath who dedicated themselves to these isolated lessons more often than not emerge as strangers to those who know them.

However, they are still Maids who most certainly have succeeded in their journey of harnessing their creative powers. As for the other branch of Maids, they are ones whose journeys still have to be discussed and examined. For the Maids of Breath who trot down this path, they are the ones who see and know that they cannot do this alone. They are hurt, scared, and confused as to where they are meant to go, or how they are even meant to start their journey. These are the ones who realize that strength comes in numbers, not everyone packed away into their own little boxes. Although such a journey may sound more akin to that of a Blood-bound, it is sometimes best to remember that even the most opposing and clashing Aspects will still hold some similarities between each other.

Even though there may be similarities, this is a journey that is meant to restore balance and order to the group; bringing the Maid of Breath back to their rightful place as the leader of the group. It is something that they want to come back to, but they first learn how they can even begin to create it. This is when they must consult their friends and fellow players in order for them to learn how they need to create their Aspect. More importantly, though, they will learn along the way just exactly what they need to create. It should come as no surprise to hear and know that an Aspect such as Breath is one of great expansive and flexible possibilities.

When creating Breath, one must first think of what type of Breath they want to create; which is what leads to so many Maids becoming far too overwhelmed in the beginning of their journey. However, for these Maids that seek out council and guidance from those around them, this issue would dwindle quite quickly. Not only that, but by listening to the tips, tricks, and overall advice of others, the Maid would begin to learn just how truly diverse everyone in their group is. They would get to see people at their most vulnerable, speak to those they had rarely spoken to before, and learn all the intricacies that are so beautifully woven across everyone. A giant web for them to travel across and learn about, learning about all of the spiders and flies stuck to it.

By learning how to create Breath through their friends, these are the Maids of Breath who often play a far more enthusiastic and outgoing role as a leader. They are the ones far more eager to reach out and help, and to make things far more fair for those around them. After all, to expect someone to see and experience the diversity in a group and still not care for all of them would be ludicrous. No, these Maids of Breath are ones who do care - deeply so - and even more is that they know how it feels. They understand what it feels to not be treated fairly, like the world will end if they make the wrong move, or that they are overall a giant screw-up who simply got lucky in all that they did. The Maid of Breath sees the struggles that everyone faces or has faced, and it makes it all the more easy to recognize their own problems.

Along this journey, no matter the path the Maid picks, they inevitably will come to the point of finally being able and confident enough to create their Aspect. By learning more about Breath and noticing all the different ways it not only affects themself, but everyone else around them, so too will come the conclusion that their Aspect is one of great importance. The group needs not only leadership, but so much more from the Breath of the Maid. Someone who has great influence on the actions and decisions of others, a person of great flexibility, and, most importantly, a friend who can be there to give aid and guidance towards the eye of whatever storm others may find themselves in.

Nearing this point in their journey, the Maid has recognized that this is their role in the group, and it is a role that cannot go unfulfilled. However, one other thing they have learned and recognized is that they must also be one to look after themself. As much as they are the leader of their group, they are still a person just like everyone else. They may be someone of great flexibility, yes, but it is that flexibility that got them to their worst state of mental health in the first place. It is this part of their Aspect that the Maid will most certainly create in other people - splintering and snapping off pieces of their own flexibility and dishing it out to those around them. The less they have, the far better they will be at setting up and maintaining boundaries for themself.

Of course, this could be argued to go for why the Maid creates any version of Breath - to deplete themself of it enough that they will be able to feel less burdened by it. Even an Aspect such as Breath is a finite resource and presence, but it is still a weight that remains on the Maid’s shoulders. No matter how much peace they may try to conjure up with their Aspect, that sword of Breath still rests heavy over their head, and it is a feeling they most certainly do not enjoy. This time around, however, they know better than to have all of it taken and stripped away from them. Balance is something important to every Maid, but for the Maid of Breath especially, it is the balance between their own life and their work; their responsibilities and their mental health.

It is these boundaries that help to usher the Maid into truly becoming a creator of their Breath, for in order to create Breath it means to create a numerous amount of things. It means to create flexibility in others, though this is a creation very few Maids approach, namely out of fear of creating false flexibility in others - violating their own freedom to think and feel what they want. In especially sticky and life-altering situations, however, such a power is one that could wind up preventing or causing horrific consequences down the timeline. Whether it’s an argument between two or more people, or something far more serious as one person being stubborn, such as a Space-bound who won’t stop until they breed the perfect frog, or a Rage-bound who refuses to follow the words or see the perspective of the local Life-bound.

Not only that, but the Maid can create freedom for everyone in the group - including themself. This is a far more obscure and expansive power, much like creating flexibility in others, and so it is yet again another power so few Maids ever actually tap into. Some of the reasons for this hesitance and nervousness towards it could be the vagueness of this power. What does it mean to create freedom, especially to a group such as their own? Does it mean to free someone of a toxic relationship, to be able to break out of the walls of their cell - metaphysical, hypothetical, or otherwise, or does it mean to be free of any and all chains that bind us? To slip between the lines of text that the disembodied voice of a narrator speaks, free to change and do whatever they may please? What would the repercussions of that even be?

It is a power that all Maids have, but it is one that so many are afraid to even consider. Much like flexibility, it is one that is only ever considered in dire situations, such as a Doomed Timeline or even a session that is Null, perhaps even Void, and is in imminent threat of being wiped from existence with everyone still inside. Who is to say except the Maids of Breath who have created that freedom themself.

Now, of course, there is the far more obvious, yet also not-so-literal, sense in which Breath can be created. Leadership, and the creation of it. To some, this power may seem counter-intuitive, especially given the narrative and overarching importance of the Maid of Breath’s role as a leader. However, in reality, this is one of the Maid of Breath’s greatest powers within their basic power and toolkit of creating their Aspect. By creating leadership, they allow more room for others to step up on the platform that they stand upon, and as such allow for less leadership burdens to solely rest on themself and themself alone. It allows for a group effort to truly feel more equal and opportunistic for others, especially for those who may otherwise not have any chance of being remotely close to a leadership role.

These Maids who create leadership are often the ones who followed the path of friendship rather than isolation when it came to their lessons of Breath and its importance, though that is not to say any other path closes off this power from them. Moreso, these Maids are the ones who realized the various types and amount of privilege people in the group hold, and also do not have. Seeing how important their role is as a leader, but also realizing that even the strongest and most successful leaders have moments of weakness and need even longer moments of rest. By creating leadership in their group, they not only find a way to dismantle that hierarchy that has plagued so many of their lives, but they also make it so that no matter what, there will always be at least one leader present in the group.

Much like the other Aspects, Breath is one that holds a far more literal sense to the way it can present itself. The ways in which the creation of this literal version of Breath can take form is numerous, and most definitely is only advised for the Maids who have a strong hold over their Breath. One of these versions is creating the literal air around them, wherein they could be the source of oxygen for themself and others. It could be argued that this power could manifest itself by the Maid of Breath having some of the best lung capacity and/or strength ever - being able to withstand a lack of breathing far longer than anyone else in their group could. Although this power is one that may not seem to be the most important, or even needed, it most certainly is one that could come in handy for situations where breathing is not entirely available.

Of course, the other version of this literal Breath is one that many anticipate when it comes to this Aspect; the weather, and the flow of air itself. Of course, a Maid of Breath would not be able to have complete control over something such as this - most certainly not as much as an Heir, Witch, or even Lord and Muse could be capable of. Such lack of control is why so many Maids of Breath are wary of harnessing this power - what they create is now out of their grasp, and there is little they could do about it. They could create whatever type of weather they wanted, at any moment - whether it be a beautiful, pleasant breeze and a cloudless day, or a torrential downpour that threatens to flood everything in its path. Perhaps, for those who feel especially malicious, will be those who create a typhoon, hurricane, tornado, or a storm that could so easily blow away all their problems and foes, but also their friends if they are not careful.

Breath is uncontrollable, and unpredictable. It is something that can be so pleasant and become a great aid to some, while it can also become a force of pure and utter destruction. Such a truth is something that cannot go unspoken or unacknowledged, and believe these words when it is said that the Maid of Breath knows this truth all too well. They are made of their Aspect, after all - and their flippant attitude of being either the sweetest, kindest person one could meet, to one of the most uncontrollable and volatile hurricane of a person one could have the displeasure of encountering is something that many know. It’s a near trademark trait of their personality, and it’s one that many Maids of Breath hold shame over.

This shame is such that prevents many Maids from venturing any further down their path of power, for the next leg of this journey is one wherein they are allowed to create through their Aspect. For them to acquire this power, however, is to also become one complete entity from within. Which is to say, the Maid of Breath must fully embrace their Aspect as it must embrace them - the two becoming one in the process, and thus allowing for the Maid to become truly intune with their Aspect. No matter what path the Maid took previously, whether it be lonesome or social, the powers of creating through one’s Aspect are all in the same. For the Maids of Breath who do seek out this power and finish their journeys, they are the ones who become one of the truest, bluest, and most ultimate leaders of them all.

Creating through Breath is where their powers shine the most, for it’s a power that means to create through their own freedom. As long as they can spread their wings and fly, then they are capable of creation. Most importantly, though, is that they are capable of creating through leadership - oftentimes their own. They can make the impossible seem far more possible, everyone’s goals far more reachable, and, most importantly, they can heal the wounds of others through their leadership. Whether it is a physical, mental, or spiritual wound does not matter - as long as the Maid of Breath is in charge, they will forge a path ahead that will always end in complete recovery.

Another power that these Maids hold in their creation through Breath, is the power to essentially create things through the air itself. More specifically, though, is the air in their lungs. Indeed, these Maids can essentially speak whatever they want into existence, though this is a power that takes quite a long time and an extensive amount of skill to perfect. When speaking something into existence, they must be precise in their wording - no pauses, no buffers, nothing. They must be strict and calculated in what they say, lest they accidentally summon something that is not as desired. This is a skill that will never be perfected on the first try, and is certainly one that is often only gifted to those with great patience and adversity when faced with a cement wall separating them and their goal.

Much like the ability to create anything through the air surrounding them, it is something that takes keen precision, concentration, and will-power. After all, they are basically creating something from an Aspect that is so flexible, thin, and unpredictable. They may still not have much control over it as other Classes do, but they most certainly are still capable of doing incredible things with their Aspect.

Now, it could be argued that by creating through their literal air around and in them is something only given to the Maids of Breath who followed the path of isolation, as they often present themselves to be the far more stoic of the two main paths. However, that isn’t entirely the case. It would be far more accurate to say that this group would have a far easier time at acquiring this power, as it is indeed one that leans more towards a person who is self taught in the ways of patience and even creation in general. However, it could be argued that these self taught Maids are those who would struggle to create through their leadership - ironically enough. They are someone who feels disconnected from the others in their group, acting only as the compass and captain of the ship that they sail upon.

On the contrary, the Maids of Breath who sought out the far more social path of creation are the ones who would most likely succeed immensely in creating through their leadership. They know the ins-and-outs of their crew, and likely will want to steer the ship in directions that allow for everyone to get as many of their own loose ends tied up as possible. Meanwhile, they would most likely struggle to create things through air, as they are most likely a person who tends to be more on the move at all times rather than someone who knows when to stop and take a moment to rest.

No matter what route the Maid picks, though, one thing will always be for certain - they are a leader, through and through. They always have been, and they always will be. Although such a thought may once have petrified them, they have traveled far enough to come around and realize that there is far much more good to their Aspect than there is negativity. For someone who once stood alone at the very top of the world, surrounded only by those who reveled in this disadvantages and lack of privilege from those beneath them, the Maid is now someone who finds themself surrounded by numerous people - all unique and diverse in their own right.

By learning how to embrace their Aspect and the privilege it holds over others, they managed to help and create more of it - creating equity amongst the group in the progress. Person by person, piece by piece, the Maid of Breath would help to usher in peace and understanding between everyone in their group. They would slowly dismantle and chip away at the structural integrity of whatever hierarchy they originally found themself to be a part of. By creating freedom, or creating through their power of being a leader; it would become possible for as many people to get the happy endings they so desire. Whether they mean to or otherwise, their influence is one that can help to make things far easier and flexible for everyone, or make progress feel like one is trying to walk against the wind.

Although there was a moment in time where the Maid rejected their role as a leader, and even sought out a way to destroy it and perhaps even themself, it was only because the Maid believed it to be selfish for them to set up boundaries. Being on top of the world was lonely enough, but to then go and set up walls seemed to only be more isolating - though the alternative was ultimately what drove the Maid of Breath into their downward spiral. Now that they have learned more about themself and those around them, they have come to realize that everyone - no matter who they are - needs to set up their own barriers and boundaries in order to truly function at their best.

There is little doubt that they are someone who has learned the art of setting up barriers and boundaries between certain sections of their life. But, the Maid of Breath is still one who most certainly continues to help keep the machine that is their group well-oiled and running. If they are to suspect some members of the group may be struggling, chances are it will be the Maid of Breath to reach out and inquire about their troubles. They may not be a Life-bound, but their love and care for their friends, followers, and allies is still real. A Maid is still one who second-handedly heals others when creating their Aspect, or even through it, after all. The Maid of Breath, therefore, could be someone who heals others by creating Breath or through it - leadership, freedom, and far more flexible opportunities alike.

Of course, as any good leader would do, the Maid of Breath would also tend to be an overall diplomatic presence in the group. Due to their abilities of creation, people tend to come to them either way when problems occur. Even though the Maid will ultimately play the role of the judge or co-judge, they will always encourage everyone else to play the jury that decides for the group whether the accused or accuser is the truly guilty one. When things ever seem especially sticky, or even stuck, the Maid is one who always find a way to make everything feel and seem far more flexible than it was before.

The Maid of Breath is the friend you go to when you want to get out of your nest and have a fun time. They’re the leader that can give reassurance on what is happening and what the plan is, or guidance when you feel lost in your own personal journey. They are the friend-leader you go to for advice with whatever problems you may be experiencing. The Maid of Breath is someone who leaves a mark wherever they go, or on whoever they meet. Although it’s never promised whether this mark will be one of subtle kindness and love, or a deep wound filled with fire birthed from crackling lightning. Either way, there is a certainty that the Maid of Breath was purposeful in the impact they left. After all, they are one who has learned to have far more control over their Aspect than allow for it to control them.

No longer do they fear the storm that brewed, grew, and raged inside of them. No more shame, no more apprehension, and no more facades left to be maintained. They tried to run away from something they were born into, but it would soon become apparent that they were always meant to become the very storm itself; an inescapable destiny written for them from the very moment they drew their first breath. Although it may have been a difficult and unpredictable journey, they have finally learned to embrace their Aspect, as well as themself - the flaws, the good, the unpredictable, the uncertain, and the bad. The Maid knows now that they will never be perfect in who they are or what they do. Instead of holding shame over it, it is a truth that they now hold tenderly in their soul.

Much like the weather itself, there will never be a rigid or precise way of labeling them as perfect. What the Maid of Breath has learned best is to simply be one who goes with the breeze. Things that may once have been a threat to their own health are now things that rarely ever cross their mind. When they do, the Maid is quick to shrug it away, keeping in mind that they have been at their lowest - they have looked into the eye of the storm and felt it look right back at them - and they are no longer so quick to stress about things. They are a leader, through and through. Much like any good leader, they make sure to sweep up others in their wake, bringing them along for the grand journey ahead. They were once alone at the top of the world; a place of ice and loneliness until, one day, the Maid asked themself - why don’t I just make them wings much like mine? So they did. A new type of freedom found in companionship. From that moment onward, everything became less lonely and much more beautiful; in their friends’ world, as well the Maid’s. None of them would have it any other way.

#Maid #Maid of Breath #Homestuck #Hiveswap #Maid of Breath Analysis #Breath Aspect #Breath

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raventons · 4 years

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The list of names

*scary music playing* Ok, guys, in the light of American Middle Eastern policy, that has once again brought me to tears, I decided to do something a bit happier (this is me trying to influence my followers to read the news and fight for the right thing and all that jazz). I’ve got a lot of asks recently, mostly from people new to the world of CC, about which creators are the best, so I’ve made this little list of the creators I download and use the most. This is not in any way a complete collection, I might have forgotten someone (and there’s also plenty of creators I haven’t discovered yet). Also, these are all build creators, mainly creating alpha CC. Please feel free to add to this list. Also also, the description I’ve used for the artists are totally my own making, so if you are a creator and feel like I am describing your work in an unfair way, go ahead and punch me in the face. If I was a new simmer, I would check out these creators: Retired: MXIMS - Makes modern, real life furniture with the best quality. Has many downloads left on their website. MINCSIMS - Similar to MXIMS (with some amazing collabs), also with a beautiful talent for doors and windows. Not many objects left in orbit, but google is your friend. DAER0N - Done everything from noodles to palms, but the recent Daer0n I would describe as gold, dark and modern, with 3D modeling skills out of this world. Retired, and much of the old stuff is gone, but some can be found at bloomingrosy. DOX - Similar to Daer0n with a slightly stricter, more wooden approach. The most underrated one of the retired giants. Has some downloads left on their website. ANBS - Super clean aesthetic. Modern, real life furniture. Many downloads left on their website. SLYD - Mostly known as a CAS creator, but has the amazing shoes and bags available as decor. All downloads left on the website. HVIKIS - Wallpapers and wall art. All downloads left on the website. VIIKIITA - Recolors to die for. Not many objects left in orbit, but google is your friend. Active (I think. I hope. I don’t know): ARSBOTANICA - Previously simshamlet. Does really lovely, vintage aesthetic perfume bottles and amazing flowers. SLOX - A personal favorite. Modern, I’d say. And realistic. But often with objects you didn’t even know you needed, that ends up being the main inspiration for the whole build. Like some folded shirts, or a stack of books. 13PUMPKIN - A long with Artvitalex this is the best wood creator in the community. The sets are kind of like “small-lovely-family-home”-style, but can be used in big, modern builds with equally outstanding results. WONDYMOON - My by far most used creator. The most organized one too, I’d say. All sets match eachother, and are easy to find (and are all named by elements, this guy is a rock star). PYSZNYDESIGN - The Kilburn set is to die for. MEINKATZ - Literally replicas of real life furniture, with their history and all. Honestly the coolest thing ever. Also, a really nice person. PRALINESIMS - The best floor and wall creator, hands down. I don’t know if this is really the person I should tag tho, so I’ll tag @cross-design and hope for the best because I honestly still don’t know who is who. I love them both tho. THE TSR GIANTS: SEVERINKA, KARDOFE, UNG999, SIMMAN123, PILAR, ARTVITALEX, ANGELA, DOT, BUFFSUMM, SHINO and NYNAEVE - Yes, a lot of the creators I mention here are active on TSR and a lot of my TSR giants are active elsewhere, but I still, maybe arbitrary, like to put these under the TSR flag because they represent that wonderful vibe of big sets, certain room types and signature colors. PEACEMAKER - a true legend. Some of the CC is borderline MM, but that is what makes them so perfect. They go with both themes. MIO - This is the first creator I downloaded from and they will always have a special place in my heart. Brilliant conversions, flower sets, seating, everything. NOVVVAS - A way too humble person that claims she is not the best in the game, when she truly is out of this world. RIGHTHEARTED - who I have been referring to as neiden my whole life because I am an idiot. TINGELINGLATER - Does a lot of things but blessed all of us with windows and since then I am in love. ANYE - Pinkbox Anye, to be correct. Lovely person. Lovely sets. Unique eyes. Adore this one. FOREVERDESIGNS - Will literally transform your bedroom. And kitchen. And life. BLACKMOJITOS - Build sets and sexy, stunning posters (and a basket every now and then). Also up for commissions, I just noticed. Go throw money at her. She is amazing. KAI-HANA - Has a totally unique style, where everything is alpha, but still has a beautiful, clayish touch to it. Underrated. AROUNDTHESIMS - A bit on the MM side, so if you’re looking for that MM/alpha mix, this is for you. Extremely productive. Does everything and more. CHERRY-SIMS - A part from the CC, this is also the best picture editor I’ve ever seen. I am a huge fan! CONCEPTDESIGN - Did someone say trees? YUMIA - Soft flowers, old school touch, vintage AGGRESSIVEKITTEN - Literally killed half the community with the recent brutalism set, which without a doubt will be voted best CC of 2020. Also, where else would you go for both beautiful, vintage objects AND a tarot card reading? Weirdly obsessed with seals. Makes amazing lots. I love you. DSCO - I gave up trying to spell this creators full name after the sixth attempt. I would describe the CC as cute. But not in the condescending (that I could spell) way. More in a bad-ass-I-need-all-of-these-objects-kind-of-way! KKB - My ignorant and uneducated ass wants to call it Korean, and I am sorry if this isn’t the right way to describe anything. Soft, pastel but at the same time very cool, with rattan and wood. DR GREENIE - Former Green Girl. Mostly MM, but has made some of my most used decor objects. HELEN - Extremely productive. Does everything. NIKADEMA - Has made my favorite sink! PQSIMS - Makes sets. Usually light wood. LUNATICAVILLAGE (2SIS) - Another underrated favorite. Everyone should go here and show as much love as possible! LAVI3ENROSE - A creator that entered my world quite recently. Art deco. Bronze. Gold. And the best wrapped Christmas presents of 2019. DDAENG SIMS - Another giant that recently changed their name (used to be dreamteamsims). FELIXANDRE - The best historical creator (as in making epic shit that would create the most wonderful castle). Sometimes a bit on the MM side with the furniture, and that contrast makes it, in my eyes, even better. SIMCREDIBLE - Sets. Color matching. Often light and modern. I use their decor stones in every single one of my . SOLORIYA - MM creator. But even for us alpha bitches there are wonderful stuff (I think this is the case for most MM artists, I just don’t know so many of them). XELENN - Also does literally everything. One can scroll this blog for hours. OWL-PLUMBOB - Amazing build objects. SANOYSIMS - A long with MXIMS, I’d say this is one of the most “realistic” artists. WINNER9 - To me, this creator is all about the amazing wall art. But of course they make other stunning objects too. Marble tables, anyone? SJAMBOKSIM - My most used concrete walls (and I use concrete A LOT). AIFIRSA - Totally different style from everyone else. Absolutely love this aesthetic. VIVIAN STUDIO - This sounds weird, but their onions are the best object in my game. Don’t judge. HEURRS - A quite new creator who blew my mind with some recent candles and earned my first reblog since 456 BC. Love you. I am forgetting so, so many. Please, I sometimes can’t even remember my own name, so don’t feel hurt if I missed you. PLEASE comment your favorite creators below! Where would you advice new simmers to start looking for good CC? Love you guys!!!

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #the sims #the sims 4 #creators #sims 4 creator #sims 4 creators #sims 4 cc finds #the sims 4 cc finds #sims cc #sims cc finds #sims4 #thesims4 #thesims

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lilmissbacon · 3 years

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Frozen 3 concept

I'mma start off with explaining that I'm not the biggest fan of Frozen and I'm definitely not a fan of Elsa's character in general.

But as much as I love the songs and outfits of the second movie, the inconsistencies and how it never explains how sh🤬 works in the world with magic and such are just infuriating. As well as why the spirit that connects them controls ice which is just a variation of water. And how the Frozen franchise just loves to make Elsa more special within every installment.

I am so very tired of it. So I came up with a way that it could all be fixed and make sense if they make a third movie.

Also to note that Anna and Elsa are supposed to be two halves of the fifth spirit but that's VERY briefly touched in movie (quote: well actually a bridge has two sides and mother had two daughters) and Disney themselves take Elsa as the fifth spirit alone so that's stupid.

Why Elsa specifically controls ice

We all know how we're frustrated with the fact that Elsa is supposed to connect all the elements when she only controls ice.

But let's think about it from another prospective. The first movie is based about the seasons. It's a seasonal theme rather than an elemental theme like in its sequel. So why not bring that back?

The enchanted forest cannot be the ONLY place that has mystical spirits. What if there were three other forests with their own fifth spirits and each fifth spirit represented a season?

And each seasonal spirit's magic is a mix of two elements.

Elsa/Winter: Ice = water + air

Spring: Plants = water + earth

Summer: Lava = earth + fire

Fall: Lightning/Storms = air + fire

This still fits in with the fact that the fifth spirit can play back moments in time as well. Each spirit has their own Ahtohallan. Elsa's is made of ice because it's just frozen water and the water is was plays back those moments in time.

Spring's would be like an island made of plants, fungi and marsh. Plants have water running within them so they can take the form of moments in time like Elsa's ice statues.

Summer's would be a volcano with a river flowing through it. Lava and water can mix to create lava rocks. When doing so the memories within that water would be imbedded into the rocks they form and therefore be able to play moments in time as rock statues.

Autumn's would basically be a fog bank with almost ghostly figures making up the memories since fog is a mist, aka: water. Kinda like the scene where Elsa fights the wind spirit and their powers mix for a moment.

Where the others come from

For this, I decided to look around other lands within that side of the world that has legends of spirits. I decided upon:

Spring = Scotland

Summer = Arabia

Fall/Autumn = Japan

I chose for Arabia to be summer, of course , because it's a desert country so it very hot. Japan is autumn because it's culture and everything just always reminded be of the beauty of fall. And Scotland is spring because that's what was left and when I think of Scotland, I think of it's green forests and plants.

Nothing too deep.

Personalities

You think I'd make Summer hotheaded and spring, giddy and bouncy, right?

No, because you see, as I've stated in another post of mine; Why Frozen Doesn't Work In The Big Four, I explained how Elsa's personality reconciles more with summer. The opposite season of her own.

Elsa is kinda quiet, gentle, diplomatic, practical, worries silently and is angelically innocent (even though she doesn't deserve to be).

All are traits relating to summer. So if her personality is opposed to her season, then it'd be the same for the other fifth spirits.

Spring would be a leader, confident, energetic, true to a cause, dependable, easily irritated and stubborn.

Summer would be reserved, well mannered, a good listener, natural poise and pessimistic.

And autumn would be energetic, tender-hearted, optimistic, friendly and overly talkative.

How the spirits work

I fully believe that the spirits have no physical form but rather inhabit certain things. Basically possession but the spirits don't have control over themselves once they choose a vessel and depending on the solidarity of what their element is, determines what kind of vessel they need.

The wind spirit is said to be a playful spirit and would want to make its own choices. Being an element you can't hold, it doesn't really need a host.

Water is liquid and needs something to be it's host but doesn't necessarily need something alive. Therefore it can inhabit a small animal or it inhabits its own element, hence a water horse.

Fire isn't a solid or liquid but it's not necessarily a gas either. Fire always needs to burn on something in order to burn. Therefore it cannot just make out it's own body like water but it doesn't need a large vessel. Hence, a little salamander.

Earth is the most solid of them all so it would need multiple hosts in order to sustain itself. That's why there are multiple earth giants and not just one like the other spirits.

I believe the spirits don't have control over their actions once they choose a host because all the spirits (besides wind) seem to not know what's even going on most of the time. And that would explain why the spirits didn't get rid of the dam themselves, because their vessels didn't know that was the problem.

I also believe that they need a host to begin with because they are actually susceptible to death. As it has been confirmed that Elsa is NOT immortal and there wouldn't have been a legend of a fifth spirit if people hadn't seen one before.

It would also explain how the spirits drove the citizens out of Arendelle without physically being there; they managed to leave their hosts for a time in order to do so. Along with what the light that Elsa was following at Ahtohallan, was. The fifth spirit was able to sustain itself by staying in its birth place and activated the memory of Elsa's mom singing, to bring Elsa there and when Elsa's dress transforms is when the spirit possesses her.

Why does the fifth spirit need to be human? Because humans are more durable. The fifth spirit doesn't control anything completely solid like rock so it doesn't need multiple vessels but it also controls more than a single element, therefore is too much to figure out/control for just any animal.

That's why it chose a very young child to give it's powers to rather than the person who actually did the deed of saving their enemy. It needs to be someone who will have the time to learn and control their powers by adulthood.

(Despite Elsa not truly being worthy and being a horrible sister, she was already chosen at birth and she at least gets the job done. At everyone else's expense but still.)

Plot

How would the seasonal spirits meet? Why would they leave their homes for this? What brings them together?

The four sided snowflake represents the elements connected to the winter spirit. Every season would have their own version of this. But there are also four seasons just like there are four elements.

So, could there be a fifth spirit for the fifth spirits? A fifth spirit to connect the seasons and if so, what is it? What's their power?

I believe, much like the winter spirit called to Elsa, the ultimate fifth spirit will call all the seasonal spirit's to come together at a single location. Anna would come with Elsa as well, of course, and during their journey, they'd all eventually meet each other along the way.

Eventually Anna would start to feel a little neglected when Elsa keeps talking to / about the other people who also have magic. Anna doesn't wish for magic, but she wishes for Elsa to finally see herself and Anna as equals (because Elsa clearly wouldn't after finding others like herself, let's be real). So Anna goes off to have her own sort of "Show Yourself" moment and is the one to find the location they've been looking for which is where she becomes their fifth spirit; the Aurora Borealis.

It was in one of the original scripts for the first movie that Anna was gonna have the power to control the Aurora Borealis, but then the creators decided that took away from Elsa's agency for self isolation due to her powers.

It's true that Anna having been able to accomplish what she did without powers is one of her best attributes but Anna becoming the light spirit is really the only way she's gonna get any appreciation within the fan base or the disney community. Plus Anna's done all the work to begin with so she deserves it.

With the other spirits being seasonal & elemental, it would only make sense for the one to connect them all would be light.

But all the spirits also have an opposite to balance them out:

Fire | Water

Earth | Air

Winter | Summer

Spring | Autumn

So maybe the reason they were all being called there is because Light's opposite is Darkness and it's plotting to take them all out. They are in charge of keeping balance and darkness wants to create chaos. But you also need darkness for balance, so maybe someone else will be with them through the journey and become the vessel for darkness in order to control it. Because, again, spirits have no control once they have a host.

This could be a possible redemption arc for Hans. We could learn about what he's been through and what truly drove him to be the bad guy because from what we know of his brothers, they were really bad. I think he just really lost a nerve due to unintentional (or intentional) abuse and was trying to prove to his family that he was better than they believed. People who suffer from abuse can be irrational like that.

I think it would be a phenomenal thing for him to overcome his inner darkness while also taking control of the literal spirit of darkness.

Metaphorical-wise it's beautiful.

Art/Designs

I edited the other seasons + Anna off of concept art for Elsa's white dress while Hans is kinda my own creation but I still used his concept art for a base. Everything after that are purely original.

Location they are led to ⬇️

Let me know what you all think 👍

#frozen #frozen 2 #disney #fifth spirit #concept #elsa #anna #frozen 3

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angelinasway · 3 years

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Regaining Hope

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: I should first say that this takes place about eight and a half years after the first arc of the Season 8 Buffy Comics, however I’m only using aspects of cannon. The back story will not follow the comics as you will be able to see pretty quickly in this chapter. Secondly, I actually really do love Lois so please don’t bash me for being self-indulgent by wanting to see my two favorite Superheroes get together. I can promise you all that there will be no Lois bashing in this fic. Thirdly, as far as Clark’s story goes it follows Man Of Steel so if you’ve seen the movie you know his story. Thanks for giving this a chance I hope you all enjoy reading. Also thank you to my wonderful beta Hipkarma for giving this chapter a look for me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Chapter One

Buffy lurched as the helicopter made touchdown onto the ice. She closed her eyes briefly, mentally preparing herself for what was sure to be a battle of wills between her and one Colonel Hardy. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but just by his photo she could tell he was going to be a pain in the ass. There wasn’t much love lost between the Watchers Council and the U.S military. Not since Maggie Walsh and the Initiative, and certainly not since General Voll. The Governments of the world as a whole always seemed to have a really bad habit of sticking their noses in things they just didn't understand, hence why she was here in the freezing Canadian Arctic in the first place. Willow had created a program that had been monitoring all military chatter since Voll decided to commandeer Amy and a skinlessly resurrected Warren to attack the W.C. Headquarters in Scotland. That had been almost ten years ago, and since then Buffy had been dealing with countless other countries attempting to harness power or create weapons out of a force that they just didn’t seem to understand could never be controlled. The U.S however, had managed to keep their noses pretty clean since General Voll, even going as far as to work with her and ask for her help when needed. That’s why it was such a surprise to find out that they had found something buried in the snow that predated civilization and were trying to keep it under wraps. Especially from the W.C. And to make matters worse, she was just coming off a week-long mission from hell. Just last week she caught Russia restarting their subspecies research facility and when the shit had finally hit the fan, she had been forced to send in a team resulting in the deaths of two of her girls. After that, she and Wesley had spent the next day getting a hold of the girl’s families, which of course left her holding a big-ol-bag of guilt and the nightmares and sleepless nights to go along with it. So, to say she was cranky and pissed to hear about the U.S. keeping stuff from her would have been an understatement. She was furious! However, she was also willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe this actually wasn’t her jurisdiction. The Helicopter door slid open pulling her from her mental preparation. She blinked when her eyes met a pair of startlingly brilliant blues, surrounded by a handsomely rugged face, and scruffy beard. A green baseball cap adorned his head, hiding what she assumed from the few strands that were messily poking out of the brim was hair so brown it was almost black. He was probably somewhere in his mid-twenties, though on second inspection his eyes held the maturity of someone closer to her age. “Here let me help you.” He said loudly, so his voice could be heard over the whirling of the propeller and the grind of the engine. He held out a large gloved hand as she undid her seat belt and stood on unsteady legs. Her own gloved hand reaching for the strangers. As soon as her hand touched his however, she gasped, almost recoiling in fear, her inner Slayer rearing her head at the sudden sensation of power. And wow, was it powerful. She had never sensed anything like what was behind this man’s strong grip in all her years of slaying. It didn’t feel mystical in nature and it certainly wasn’t demonic. It was almost foreign, as if it didn’t belong here. Strength knew strength however, no matter where it originated from and her Slayer sensed him with a voraciousness that she had never experienced before. She felt a bit light headed and weak kneed by the sensation, and she had to shake her head to clear it of the roaring in her ears. Her eyes shot to his, widening in bewilderment and for a split second he had the look of a dear caught in the headlights. It was gone the next instant though, and a mask of a charmingly shy and unassuming guy replaced it. ‘Quick reflexes then, and someone who’s used to hiding in plain sight.’ The look worked well on him and she admired the quick cover. Only someone who had been living a double life could pull off a cover like that. Regardless of her admiration though, she needed to know if this guy was a threat or not. Especially with the way her Slayer was chomping at the bit and her heart pounding in her ears. So, she squeezed his hand slightly harder than she’d ever dare on someone human, just to let him know he wasn’t the only one standing there that was something other. It had the desired effect, though the fact that he didn’t wince was a little unnerving. His eyes shot to hers as she passed him, an innocent mixture of awe, curiosity, and fear burning in his irises. She knew then. He was no threat to her. The eyes were the windows to the soul and there was no doubt this man or whatever he was, had one. Plus, there was no way anyone could pull off a look that full of innocence if they had nefarious intentions. She removed her hand, breaking the overstimulation to her senses. She tried her best to cover what she had just felt by giving him a brilliant smile and winking conspiratorially. “Normally I would be worried about anyone carrying my bags considering how heavy they are, but something tells me it’s not gonna be a problem with you.” “Buffy Summers?” A new voice asked, distracting her from her assessment of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Muscular. She turned to meet the kind eyes of another man not much older than herself. "Hi." She said in greeting, reaching her hand out to shake. "Jed Eubanks, Arctic Cargo, nice to finally meet you, Miss Summers." Buffy raised an eyebrow in surprise, side eyeing Mr. Powerful for any reaction. "You heard of me?" She asked, watching the stranger’s reaction. When all she got was a look of curiosity and befuddlement her hackles finally lowered enough to completely believe that whatever or whoever he was didn’t have to do with her being here. Eubanks grinned, commanding her full attention as he said, “Little more than that, I was stationed in Afghanistan about five years ago. My chopper went down near Baghaln.” Buffy winced. “I remember that, a terrorist organization had commissioned hellhounds and were feeding their hostages to them.” “Saw you fighting that day.” He nodded. “Never seen anything like it in my life.” He paused, almost as if he was gathering up the courage to continue. “I was next in line you know, if it wasn’t for you and yours, I’d have been dog chow. I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life Miss Summers.” Buffy smiled softly at the man. It had been a while since she’d been thanked so sincerely. She linked her arm with his. “Call me Buffy, I’m sure I’m gonna have Miss Summers shouted at me enough today to give me flashbacks of high school.” Eubanks laughed. “Well, least you know you got one person rooting for you.” Buffy’s eyes traveled back to the mysterious stranger, who had been watching them with rapt attention. Questions, fear, and confusion still simmering in his eyes. She imagined it was very much similar to the look she was giving him, curiosity brimming over like an over flowing stream. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, hoping he understood it was her way of saying they would speak later, before she turned back to Jed and plastered on a huge smile. “Now show me where this camp is. The sooner I get this over with, the happier I’ll be.”

******

Clark watched the young blonde woman walk away with Jed, his heart galloping in his chest. She knew. Somehow, she was able to sense he was different. Part of him was horrified at the prospect of her walking into the basecamp below and announcing to the entire camp what and who he was. It was an old fear, one that had guided him and comforted him on cold lonely nights. If he just kept disappearing, no one would ever know the truth. Another part of him however, was beyond curious about her. How could she sense him like that, was she an alien too? When she squeezed his hand earlier it hadn’t hurt, but had he been a normal man it very well may have fractured a bone or two, and he doubted she just went around breaking people’s bones for the fun of it. No, she had definitely been testing his strength, which begged the question, how did she get hers? The military seemed to know her pretty well however, and even Jed himself had encountered her five years ago in Afghanistan. Which almost seemed impossible, because she really didn’t look much older than twenty-two. God, she was beautiful though, with those bright green eyes that looked older and far more tired than someone her age should be allowed to be. She was just the kind of girl he would have only dreamed of asking out when he was younger. He shook his head, finally forcing his eyes away from her retreating form, but keeping his hearing locked on her until he was sure he wouldn’t have to make a sudden and quick exit. He reached for the two duffle bags she brought with her, the first one pretty light and obviously full of clothes and toiletries. The second one however, was quite heavy and when he heard the sound of metal clanging against metal, he did a quick scan of the items in her bag and almost recoiled in shock. It was like a medieval arsenal in there, three sharp looking swords, a wicked looking red and silver axe, six daggers, four sharp looking wooden stakes, two flasks filled with some type of fluid, a cross, two pistols, a shotgun, and a pair of night vision goggles. ‘Who is this girl!’

******

“Colonel Hardy I presume.” Buffy said with a saccharine smile, holding out her hand to shake. Not at all surprised when he didn’t return the greeting. She then turned to the elderly gentlemen to his right. Her smile softening in recognition. “Dr. Hamilton, how many times do we have to run into each other before I can convince you to ditch these macho elitists and come work for me.” “Miss Summers, always a pleasure.” He said with an amused smile, side eyeing Hardy’s annoyed frown. “I wasn’t aware that you had clearance for this project?” Colonel Hardy said a little too arrogantly. Buffy’s smile grew, oh she was going to love putting this man in his place. “Oh, you wouldn’t, orders went through about,” She looked at her watch. “thirty minutes ago. You should probably be getting a call from General Swanwick any minute now.” Just as predicted, a young soldier came through the door the next second and Buffy couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her lips. "Sir, General Swanwick is on SATCOM." It was immediate. The look of self-assurance morphed into pure annoyance within the span of mere seconds, and it was worth every bit of discomfort she was sure to receive in the next few days of her stay. Sure enough, Hardy did not disappoint. He excused himself and as he passed the officer he said, "Please ready Miss Summers accommodations and make sure they're as sparse as possible." Buffy chuckled in amusement, looking at Dr. Hamilton with a conspiratorial twinkle. "If he thinks making me crap in a bucket is gonna offend my delicate sensibility, he's mistaken." The Doctor chuckled, "I wasn't aware you had a delicate bone in your body Miss Summers." She snorted, "I hide it well." Her eyes then traveled to the scientific equipment obviously used for monitoring the anomaly. "So why don't you bring me up to speed on this find of yours, before Hardy comes back and attempts to make my life a living hell." Dr. Hamilton shook his head, leading her over to a computer screen with what looked to be a satellite image. "You do seem to enjoy ruffling their feathers." “Well, what can I say, never been much of a fan of authoritarianism. Also, not exactly easy to trust an entity that’s tried to have you killed more than once.” Buffy said, as she leaned over to get a better look at the dark blob like shape covered by layers of snow and ice. “So, what am I looking at? An Old Ones sarcophagus?” “We don’t believe its demonic in origin.” Dr. Hamilton stated. Buffy frowned in confusion, “But weren’t the samples of ice taken around the object more than twenty thousand years old? If it’s not demonic, what the hell do you think it is?” “A vessel Miss Summers,” Colonel Hardy said, walking back in the room. “A vessel not of this world.” Buffy blinked and turned around. “When you say not of this world, I’m assuming you mean…” Hardy’s smirk was patronizing. “That’s right Miss Summers, extraterrestrials. A spaceship. A topic I might add, that you know absolutely nothing about.” Buffy rolled her eyes, “Oh, as if you do.” “I know more than you Miss Summers.” Hardy responded indignantly. Buffy snorted in derision, her lip curling at this man’s stupidity. “So, what happens if you dig this thing up and you’ve got a violent alien that’s been sleeping in stasis for the last twenty thousand years?” Buffy shook her head. “Furthermore, I’ve seen Alien. What if the aliens inside crash landed on earth because a giant fucking Xenomorph is inside?” “I can assure you Miss Summers we’re taking every…” Buffy threw her arms in the air. Finally losing her patience. It looked like she was the one who was actually going to be doing the yelling today. This was just so typical, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate with Russia and Sudan creating their own Initiative-like secret facilities. “The fuck you are!” She shouted. “See this is the problem with you guys,” she pointed. “This is what happens, this is always what happens!” She started to pace, her fists clenched at her sides, uncaring of the sudden wary looks she was receiving by both Dr. and Colonel, as well as the few other scientists and soldiers in the room. “You discover something…for instance that demons and monsters exist, and instead of just killing it or leaving it the hell alone, you gotta study it, dissect it, see how it works, until eventually you’re trying to harness its power for yourselves!” She shook her head in disgust, “And do you wanna know who always has to clean up the mess? Me,” She pressed her fist against her chest, “It’s always me.” Her voice softened then, a sigh whistling between her teeth as her eyes locked on both a flabbergasted Dr. Hamilton and Colonel Hardy. Okay, maybe she went a little to far there. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame them for the previous week. “It’s not…If I was only dealing with this kinda stuff once in a while I wouldn’t be so cranky. I apologise for insinuating anything about anyone in this room.” She shook her head. “It’s just every single country on earth has their fingers in the demonic cesspool one way or another and I’m getting really sick of doing damage control on top of all my other Slayer duties, not to mention the lovely annual apocalypse that never really takes a vacation. Throw aliens in the mix now and the fact that I haven’t slept very well in a week and yeah, Buffy’s stress level just hit a new high.” Colonel Hardy’s disposition seemed to soften slightly at her words and he stepped forward, “I heard about Russia and am very sorry for your loss.” He sighed, “But we aren’t them, Miss Summers. I’m willing to play ball. Please let me be the first to promise, if we find anything that could be deemed even slightly dangerous as far as alien lifeforms go, we will hand it over to you immediately, without question.” She chewed on his words for a moment, figuring this was the best she was going to get as far as cordial cooperation went, and figured she throw out an olive branch so he knew she really wasn’t trying to step on his toes. “Yeah,” Buffy agreed, sighing with a nod. “Yeah, okay. And if it’s really just a ship I have no problem with giving you free rein on any alien technology you find. Just…just do me a favor, don’t make me regret this by killing us all with it.” Hardy cracked a smile then, “Alright Miss Summers, I think I can agree to that.” And surprisingly enough, he held out his hand to make it official.

****

Clark was more than impressed with the young woman who had pretty much wormed her way into his heart without her even knowing it. She was feisty as all hell; he'd heard her entire conversation and had been caught chuckling to himself a few times. Considering how quiet and reserved he normally was, the other guys on the crew were probably thinking he'd gone insane. There were a few things that were talked about that confused him however. Like her speaking about demons and monsters like they exist. Though, considering the fact that he existed, he wasn't all that surprised there could be something out there that was possibly a greater threat than even himself. He was just surprised he'd never run into anything of the sort before, especially considering how long he'd been traveling. Then again, he never really actively sought out situations where he was a savior, those situations usually just kind of found him. Buffy however, spoke as if she had been doing these types of things regularly for years. So much so, that not only was the military aware of her, but they had deemed her a threat on more than one occasion. He could certainly relate to that, for he knew if they had any idea of what he could do, they would do everything in their power to either try and kill him or use him as a weapon. And that was something Clark absolutely refused to have happen. It not only would disgrace his father’s memory, but it would spit on the very sacrifice John Kent made for him. When he was younger, he always thought that the fear his father sometimes wore on his face was because his father was afraid of him. It was one of the things that had led to the words he used the day his dad died. He remembered how frustrated he was that day; his father was being so stubborn about letting him go to college. He remembered thinking it was because his dad wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him anymore. That he was so afraid of his son hurting someone…that he would never let him leave Smallville. Then that tornado hit, tearing Clark’s entire world to shreds and he was never able to tell his dad he didn’t mean what he said. It was his father’s sacrifice that finally made him realize that all that fear and distrust he saw etched in his dad’s eyes was never directed at Clark at all. His father had always trusted him, it was mankind that he was so afraid of. So, revealing himself to the world was absolutely out of the question. However, for the first time in Clark’s entire life, he felt he might have someone else he could trust enough to confide in. The simple fact that she hadn’t told anyone what she suspected about him was almost enough to make him trust her. The fact that she didn’t want the military to get their hands on an alien, for fear of what they would use it for and the harm it could cause to the human race also helped greatly in making him want to trust her. She was incredibly cautious about how they should go about unearthing the vessel and spoke of bringing in a witch friend of hers to put a ward around it in case there was something dangerous inside. It truly was a sound plan; it would let them be able to open the ship without accidentally releasing some deadly creature or virus by mistake. It’s also the reason he was now changing his plans of waiting a few days before he went in search of the ship. He hadn’t known magic existed until a few minutes ago and he had no idea if he was vulnerable to it or not. He didn’t think so, but he sure as hell wasn’t willing to stick around and find out. As much as he agreed with Buffy’s plan and admired her caution, he knew in his gut that this might be his only opportunity to find out where he came from. Something deep inside of him told him that the answers he sought were on that ship. He dropped the bags off at her trailer after Jed had informed him which belonged to her, noticing how sparse the accommodations were. Just like Colonel Hardy had ordered. There was only a cot, blanket, pillow, space heater, and sure enough in the corner was a bucket and a roll of toilet paper. He shook his head in amusement, apparently this was not the first time she was forced to rough it. He could hear her and Colonel Hardy heading this way, discussing the ship and what other precautions might be taken to ensure that no one would get hurt. On an absolutely and unexpected whim, Clark pulled out the notepad he’d been keeping in the inside pocket of his jacket and wrote down the first thing that popped in his head. He didn’t know what made him do it, and he hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way. The poem was called “I am” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and he didn’t really remember the entire thing, but the first verse had stuck with him. He quickly ripped the sheet of paper off the spiral, folding it, and tucking the sheet under her bag where just the edge could be seen. He stuffed the notepad and pen in his back pocket, getting to the door just as they were walking up. Their eyes found each other’s immediately, the intensity of her gaze sending an electric shock up his spine, his heart speeding up. God, those eyes of hers were like the color of the fields around the farm in spring. She raised an eyebrow in question at him but he just smiled politely and held the door open for her and the Colonel to pass as he slid by and down the steps. She followed his gaze and he found himself completely turning and walking backwards a few steps, before forcing himself to break contact and walk away. He was going to go talk to Jed, see if he could learn more about her. Plus, his shift was almost up and twilight was approaching. Soon it would be time.

******

When his gaze broke from hers it was like having a bucket of ice water doused on an over heated system. She stood there watching him walk away, her heart pounding in her chest, a loud rush of air she hadn’t even realized she was holding breaking from her lungs. Her nerves still tingled from the heat she felt in his gaze, and she was startled to realize she hadn’t had a reaction like that to the opposite sex in a very long time. Hell, she wasn’t quite sure she ever had a reaction like that, at least not one she remembered. She shook her head, turning back to the Colonel, only to notice he hadn’t missed the staring contest either. She thought he looked amused, but wasn’t quite sure. “Something I need to know about?” Buffy rolled her eyes, “I’m a red-blooded female. I’m allowed to notice a good-looking man when I see one.” The Colonel hummed, his green eyes accusatorily sizing her up. “Seems like he noticed you too.” Buffy’s eyebrows shot up and she frowned. “What exactly are you implying, Hardy?” “Just making sure you didn’t send a spy in close to gather information.” He answered seriously, eyeing her warily, as if she would do something like that so unnecessarily. She rolled her eyes, laughing at the absurdity of that statement. “Colonel, if I were to do something like that it would only be if I felt I was in danger, and I can guarantee it would be another Slayer and not some well-built, redneck, with puppy eyes. No one but the W.C. and the General knew I was coming, why would I risk the little bit of leeway I knew I would gain by showing up unexpectedly, and ruin it by having a spy already in your midst’s. Please do give me some credit.” Hardy shrugged unapologetically, leaning against the wall, “I still don’t understand how your people figured out about the find when we’ve only known about it for a week.” “Oh, so that’s what this is.” She said, raising an eyebrow and looked around the almost empty trailer. He smirked, “That’s what this is.” She shrugged, it didn’t really matter to her if he knew or not. She wouldn’t be sharing the technology no matter how much he tried to intimidate her. Not that she would actually be able to explain it anyway. “A friend of mine created a program that relies heavily on magic to monitor, decode, translate, and record when certain phrases or words are used in any and all military or government communication around the globe.” The Colonel’s eyes sharpened and she watched as his jaw clenched, a vein popping out on his forehead. “And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share that little piece of technology would you.” Buffy shook her head, “Absolutely not. I’m not helping you war with other countries.” “And you call yourself some sort of hero.” He said snidely, heavy condemnation in his voice. “Do you have any idea how much something like that could help us?” Buffy froze, her back stiffening at his implications. She turned to him, her lips pursed and eyes as sharp as daggers. “It’s my job Colonel, to protect humanity. All of it.” She said, voice trembling just above a whisper in pure rage. “It is not my job to get involved with petty wars that mean very little when every year there’s some demon who gets the idea in his head to destroy every single one of us.” She pointed to the door, “I think its time for you to go now. Sun’s setting anyway, I hear it can get forty degrees below zero some nights.” Hardy frowned and opened his mouth as if to say more, but decided against it. Instead, he said, “Good night Miss Summers, will speak more about this tomorrow.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm, “No we really won’t. Despite what you may think, I’m not trying to hoard technology so I can be some kinda all-knowing God and rain judgment down on everyone. It’s the whole reason its only designed to pick out key words and phrases. I don’t want to know everything, but magic in the wrong hands is the most dangerous thing on this planet. It’s more dangerous than any demon I’ve ever faced or any God.” She sighed, removing her hand. “Trust me when I say, science will get there, you don’t need magic to move it along.” His frown deepened, before he seemed to sigh in defeat. He nodded once, then left her trailer without a word. Buffy sighed, hoping that was the end of that. She really didn’t want to have to keep explaining herself. She walked over and sunk down on the cot, reaching for the lighter of her bags and pulling out her satellite phone. She called Wesley first, knowing he would be waiting up for her to check in. She gave him a brief description of what had happened so far, leaving out the mystery man for fear of making him worry when he already had so much on his plate. Wesley agreed that Willow should be the one performing the warding spell around the ship, and agreed to make the necessary travel arrangements. Her next phone call was to Willow herself, and she smiled at the cheery voice that picked up. “Is the Arctic as cold as they say?” Buffy chuckled, “Yeah Wills, its pretty cold.” Then added, “But don’t worry, you’ll be experiencing it soon enough.” She could hear the frown on the other end of the phone, before an irritated whine escaped her friend’s lips. “But I don’t wanna go to the Arctic, you know how much I hate the cold.” Buffy chuckled, “Yes, but apparently they think they found a spaceship and we need you and your magical-witchy-talents to make sure no hibernating Xenomorphs escape and wreak havoc amongst the populous.” There was a long still silence, before the expected giddy meltdown on the other side of the phone. She heard a squeal of delight, before several vowels that sounded suspiciously like they should have been words. Buffy chuckled, “Breathe Willow, oxygen is of the good.” There were several panting breaths before, “Gods, Buffy do you know what a find like this could mean for us? The technology alone could help…” “Hold your horses there, Wills.” Buffy interrupted. “I already promised the U.S. that they could have the ship.” “Wait, what?” Willow protested. “Buffy if it hadn’t been for Voll joining up with Amy and Warren, those two would have never gotten powerful enough to join up with…” “I know Willow,” Buffy said, cutting her off before that train of thought could even be realized. “I’m just saying, why should we trust them when they’ve put us through so much?” Willow said, the pain and resentment clear in her voice. Buffy, sighed. “I don’t know Wills; guess I’m just getting more forgiving in my old age.” She paused, hearing Willow sigh sadly and knowing exactly where Willow’s thoughts were taking her. They had all suffered the consequences of General Voll raising Amy and Warren up from annoying nuisances, to actual threat. When they inevitably betrayed him, because that’s what happens when you align yourself with crazy, Amy and Warren had managed to gain enough clout to join up with a recently desouled Angelus, and together they had amassed an army of witches and demons alike. By the time anyone caught wind of what was going on it was already too late. Giles had been the first casualty in the chaos. Buffy freezing up when it happened, unable to even react to what her eyes were processing. Spike had been the one to pull her out, and for months he had been the one to push her to keep going. He had been her rock in that time, an unwavering support system without any expectations of what could possibly be if they made it out alive. Wesley and Illyria had joined the fold shortly after Spike's miraculous return, followed by a severely wounded Charles Gunn and an empath demon named Lorne. Buffy had offered Wesley the Head Watcher position, being too far gone in her grief of losing the man who was more like a father to her than her real dad ever was. However, it was losing Spike three months later that had fully pushed her over the edge. It was the only time in her life that she went completely dark, and it was Angelus who paid and then some. She had never thought herself capable of torture before that moment. Figuring she wouldn't have the stomach for it, but she'd been so very wrong. She had given her Slayer full control, and by the time she was finished with him there had been very little to stake. She remembered hating not just him in that moment, but Angel too. Years of pent-up emotional trauma caused by him leeching out of her as she bled him dry. Hatred and rage boiling inside of her at the fairytale romance they'd so naively convinced each other they had. It was never a fairytale; it had been a nightmare from the start. Even soulless Spike on his worse day would have never tried to break her so thoroughly. Angelus, in essence had succeeded in what he started so many years before. Except, instead of the broken pile of tears he expected would be the outcome of his mental torment, he got the broken primal force of the Slayer in full. He must have realized his mistake somewhere between her cutting out his tongue to shut him up and flaying his skin off the muscle and sinew because when she got to his eyes, they were full of the most potent fear she'd ever seen on a creature such as him. She remembered her Slayer purring in delight at the heady look of horror that was etched on his face, so unlike the arrogant knowingness he'd been giving her for hours. She remembered the feel of his sticky, coagulated blood as it spurted onto her face when she slowly pushed the blade into the brown pupil. The same eyes she had once thought so beautiful. She remembered how it felt to twist the knife until there was nothing left. The only sound Angelus able to make was a gargling, choking, scream. Buffy shook her head, banishing the gruesome memories to the back of her mind. She had disappeared for two years after that, running every few days to make sure no one could find her, too ashamed to face anyone. Wesley had finally found her in that broken-down, abandoned hovel, too weak to keep running. He hadn't asked what happened, he'd simply taken her in his arms and held her. When she had eventually shattered completely, sobbing dry tears, because she was to dehydrated to produce any, Wesley had stroked her back, hushing her. He never once asked what happened, but she suspected he already knew. There was a haunted look in his eyes that told her he had danced that fine line once himself. “Buffy? Buffy are you there?” Willow asked, forcing Buffy out of her memories completely. “Yeah,” Buffy said, shaking her head and blinking several times. “Sorry, what?” “I said, is there anything else I should know?” Willow huffed, a worried edge to her voice. Buffy chewed on her lip for a minute, thinking of her handsome stranger. “Yeah,” She said again. “There’s definitely something else.” She was quiet for a long moment, before finally saying. “Look, I didn’t say anything to Wesley, because he’s dealing with a lot right now, but there’s this guy here and he's...well..." she paused, shivering slightly at the memory of his hand in hers. "He's like uber-powerful." "You mean like Glory and Illyria powerful?" Willow asked, the worry in her voice unmistakable now. "I mean, like take Glory and Illyria, put them in a pot, add a few other Old Ones, stir, and you got this guy." Now Willow sounded downright frightened. "You're kidding? And he's working for the military?" Buffy shook her head even though Willow couldn't see it. "No, he's actually working for the cargo company the military contracted." "Huh?" Willow said in confusion. "Yeah, and here's the thing, he doesn't feel like a demon, or even mystical. It’s almost like..." and that’s when it all began to click into place. Spaceship, uber-powerful guy working as a civilian near said recently discovered spaceship. Power that felt foreign to her, not other worldly, but out of this world. She froze, her eyes landing on a piece of paper tucked under her weapons bag. With a shaky hand she reached down and unfolded it, her eyes scanned the quickly scribbled words on the page. "Willow, I... I gotta go." Buffy said, hanging up before she could hear her friend’s protest. She reached for her weapons bag, unzipped it and pulled out her Scythe. The words of the poem repeating in her head. She thought about changing into her suit, but decided against it. She wasn't sure how much time she had, but the sun had set a while ago and she had a feeling if she didn't leave now, she'd never see her handsome stranger again. She donned her jacket and her beanie, throwing on a backpack already prepacked with survival supplies. She opened the door and ran full speed out into the night. The forgotten poem falling into the snow, the words bleeding out as the slush soaked the paper. 'I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go But the fact stands clear that I am here In this world of pleasure and woe. And out of the mist and murk, Another truth shines plain. It is in my power each day and hour To add to its joy or its pain.'

[Chapter Two]

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anymal28 · 3 years

Text

Pre-SMP AU by @louisapennyfeather2021

Beginning Notes!

-This is a fan made story. It’s based around possible events that could’ve happened before Tommy joined the SMP. None of this is canon nor has it been confirmed by any of the creators.

-This is written as if it were being viewed through a camera. Almost like an episode from a show or a movie. But it’s also written as an actual story.

Narrative Inspiration from @ace.wing on Tiktok.

"Legends tell of a world. A realm where you have nothing to fear. No worries. No monsters hiding under your bed. A passage way to escape the darkness

*black and white images flash over a black screen quickly, only slow enough to catch a brief glimpse*

"A world where one could start over. Find meaning to a life they no longer know."

*more images flash across the screen*

"But we all know how quickly that story changes."

*images of war, fighting, and death flash across the screen*

"Legends tell of a monster that overtook the realm. One considered a God among mortals."

*yelling, arguing, screaming echos as more images flash*

"A creature so dark that even the brightest souls submitted to his rule. Faceless and merciless, the realm became his stage and the inhabitants his puppets to be controlled."

*images and conversations from the darkest moments echo*

"But there's always a hero, always someone to finally defeat the monster."

*"It was never meant to be" echos in multiple voices in the background as blurred images of hands salute on screen*

"But to understand the pain, the struggle, the happiness and fear-"

*"Remember..." The voice of a young british boy echos as images of a friendship flash on screen*

"We need to look back through the pages. Read back to the beginning again. We need to return..."

*"It's you and me, versus..." The young british boy's voice trails off as images flash rapidly. Voices and conversations get muddled and get louder and louder until it's silent and the screen is black.

"To the beginning."

*The Beginning lights up in the center of the screen for a few seconds before it goes dark

BAM, the screen changes somehow and all goes silent

Suddenly, there's quiet chirping and wind blowing in the background. The black screen starts to brighten to bright green. The camera pans to a grass covered hill full of bees, butterflies, and flowers.

Faint giggling is heard until a little boy in a red shirt comes running up the small hill. A slightly shorter boy in a green shirt comes running after him, clutching a dirty stuffed bee in his hand.

"You can't catch me Tubbo!" The red shirt boy laughs.

"I bet I can!" The green shirt boy calls back and they continue laughing as they run around the hill.

The red shirt boy slows down when light reflects off of something. He jumps over to it and crouches down. He moves grass aside to find the jagged edges of a half circle with purple around the middle and black around the rest of it. He stands as the green shirt boy runs up to him and tags his shoulder.

"I told you I could catch you!" He breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath.

He peaks over the red shirt boy's shoulder to see why he isn't responding, only to see the jagged circle.

"Woah, what's this?!" He asks in amazement. Both boys stare at it, making sure not to get cut on the edges.

"I don't know." The red shirt boy mumbles, in awe at the object.

"Let's go ask Phil!" The green shirt boy takes off down the hill. The red shirt boy follows as they hurry. The camera pans to a wood and stone cottage tucked at the edge of a forest. Fireplace smoke billows out of a chimney, farm animals wander the grassy area. Clothes are drying on the clothesline, firewood is stacked near a back door.

While the little boys are running home, in the barn next to the cottage, two older boys spar with old broom sticks.

One is tall with brown hair and a yellow tunic a few sizes too big for him. The other is a creature known as a piglin. He wears a hood over his head to hide his shaggy pink hair and piglin features. He hates that he looks different from the others.

They spare on hay bales and laugh as they jump around.

"Why are we even doing this, Wilbur? I thought we were going to make maps. I have to be home before sunset and we won't have time!" The piglin sighs, anxiously pulling at his hood.

"Oh, c'mon Techno! We have to spar to be ready! You never know what kind of big bad wars we could fight in one day!" Wilbur dramatically acts out fighting with his broomstick.

"You're crazy." The piglin shakes his head. Although he can't complain, he lives in a society where government belittles the people. He's lucky he has an escape from all of it by sneaking through the portal to see his friend and Phil.

"Only to those who don't know me." Wilbur jokes. The two continue sparing as the camera pans to the two little boys reaching the door to the house. The hurry inside to the kitchen where a man stands at a counter.

"Dad Dad!" The red shirt boy yells.

"Phil! Philza!" The green shirt boy yells at the same time.

They reach the man and he turns, although the camera stays at eye level with the little boys and doesn't reveal the face of the man.

"Look what we found on the hill!" The red shirt boy holds up the jagged circle. The man gently grabs it and holds it.

"What is it?" The green shirt boy asks.

"Oh my, it looks like you boys have found something special." The camera moves up to the face of the man.

"You see, this here is what we call a Disc. Very hard to retrieve, even harder to find." The man breathes a laugh, surprised at the find.

"Wow, really?" The red shirt boy asks in amazement.

"It's special! Just like our friendship, Tommy!" The green shirt boy jumps and hugs the red shirt boy.

"Oh yes, just like your friendship." The man crouches down to eye level with the boys. "You hold on tight to this, boys. And always remember that just like this disc, you boys are so special. Don't ever forget that."

*Screen goes black again*

It's quiet.

Until there's a quiet crackling, almost inaudible.

It grows and grows until it's a loud roar. Orange and yellow light up the edges of the screen until flames engulf the edges.

And it's chaos.

"Tubbo?! Tubbo, where are you?!" Tommy yells, searching around his room in the cottage for his friend.

"Come on, Tommy!" Wilbur appears and grabs Tommy's arm to drag him down the stairs and outside.

"But Tubbo!"

"Techno will find him, let's go!" Wilbur hauls Tommy up and races down the stairs, dodging flames and smoke until they break free outside. Wilbur races as far as he can before he trips, him and Tommy hitting the ground. They both flip around to see their home going up in flames in front of them.

Inside, TechnoBlade races through the cottage for Tubbo. He had gone home only to see chaos raining down. Screams as Ghast destroyed their home. TechnoBlade grabbed what he could and ran back through the portal in fear, only to see the home of his friends on fire.

"Tubbo!" Techno yells, flinching as a beam falls.

"Techno?!" Tubbo's voice is muffled. Techno bolts up the stairs and to the attic. He finds Tubbo clutching a brown satchel and huddling against the far wall.

"Come on, we have to go now!" Techno hurries through the flames and grabs Tubbo, Tubbo clinging to his chest like a koala and hiding his face. Techno rushes through the flames and out of the house just as parts inside begin to cave in. Techno runs to where Wilbur and Tommy stand.

"Tubbo, where were you?! What were you thinking!?" Wilbur crouches down and hugs Tubbo. He may not have ever been their brother, but that didn't mean Wilbur didn't care about him.

"I had to save the disc!" Tubbo cries as he clutches the singed satchel. Him and Tommy had stashed the disc in the attic for safe keeping. "Philza said the disc is special and I didn't want to lose it!"

"Wait, Dad! Wilbur, we have to help dad!" Tommy yells and tries to run to the cottage. Techno stops him and notices the anger on Wilbur's face.

"Dad left, Tommy. He left before the cottage even caught fire." Wilbur tries to keep calm because he knows how bad of a situation this is.

"What?" Tommy asks, heartbroken.

"Come on, we need to set up a place to sleep until morning." Techno avoids the topic. He sees the barn is still intact since it sits far enough away from the cottage. He leads the other three to the barn and they move up to the hay loft to sleep. Wilbur sets up a small nook made out of hay bales and lights a lantern for Tommy and Tubbo before hurrying down to the ground to talk to Techno. Techno grabs objects from the barn and stuffs them in a bag.

"What are you doing?" Wilbur whispers, trying to not alert the boys.

"I'm leaving, I'm finding Phil. He's an ass for leaving us- you guys, but he's all you have. I'm gonna find him." Techno grabs one of Phil's old horse riding cloaks from the barn closet and pulls it around him.

"So what, you're just going to leave us too?" Wilbur scoffs.

"I have nothing left in my home and I'm not letting this one get destroyed too. Not the way mine did, so I'm finding Phil." Techno vows, clipping the satchel over his shoulder.

"Well I'm coming with you." Wilbur starts to look around for another satchel, but Techno stops him.

"Not yet. You can't leave Tommy and Tubbo." Techno shakes his head and thinks. "Take them to the door, the one on our maps. They'll be safe there. Then come find me."

"You better not be lying to keep me from coming after you." Wilbur mutters, but accepts that he needs to help Tommy and Tubbo first.

"I promise." Techno claps a hand on Wilbur's shoulder before backing away and disappearing out the barn doors.

Wilbur hurries back up to the hay loft and finds the boys nearly asleep under another old cloak they found.

"Wilbur, what's gonna happen tomorrow?" Tommy asks, half asleep despite what they all just went through.

"Don't worry about that now, Tommy." Wilbur shushes and lays down next to Tubbo. Tommy stands up and moves to Wilbur's other side so he can hug his big brother.

"Don't worry about that now." Wilbur mumbles as the boys fall asleep. As soon as he closes his eyes, the screen goes black yet again.

Suddenly there's a lush, green forest. The camera takes a few shots of the different flora and fauna before the crunching of leaves and brush is heard. The camera pans to the back of their heads. One tall with brown hair followed by two short boys. One with blonde hair and one with brown.

The little boys follow the older boy through the woods, all carrying satchels or backpacks and wearing cloaks in case they get cold.

Tommy and Tubbo talk quietly to pass time, both tired from the previous night and the morning they've already had. They've already stopped for lunch and Wilbur keeps saying they're almost there.

Suddenly, Wilbur looks up from his map to see a wooden door surrounded by stone and covered in ivy vines. He hurries over to it, the boys right behind him. He pulls vines away until he sees the four letters carved on the door.

‘DSMP’

"This is it." He whispers.

"What, Wilbur?" Tommy asks, confused.

"The place we're looking for." Wilbur sighs, still amazed. The land that has been passed down in legend as the graceland.

The place where anyone could live freely and safely.

Him and Techno found it only once on one of their mapping expeditions. They never dared to enter, because once you enter, you can never leave.

"What is it?" Tubbo asks. It just looks like a door to him. Wilbur turns around and a half smile works on his face.

"I heard there was a sacred place, where we could live freely. This is that place, boys." Wilbur is almost red eyed as he says it.

He reaches and pulls the door open, squinting as bright, yellow light bursts through.

Through the door is a world he never imagined. Full of hope and no worries. He's almost tempted to go inside, but he has another agenda. He guides the boys to the entrance and they turn to face him as he crouches down.

"Okay boys, I need to leave now. I'm going to find Techno and Phil. I'll come back once I find them, okay?" Wilbur offers them a sad smile.

"Do you have to leave?" Tubbo asks, eyes brimming with tears and a pout on his face.

"I'll come back, just you wait." Wilbur stands. The two boys turn around and nervously walk through the portal. Once they do, they turn around to face Wilbur again. He smiles as he stands up and begins to close the door.

"I'll come back, I promise" and that's the last the two boys see of Wilbur as the door shuts.

While they were doing this, Techno returned to his home to see it in ruins. Skeletons litter the grounds, fire rages. It's a wasteland, still burning as if it's Hell itself. He's infuriated at the carnage because he knows. He knows this could've been avoided had their government and society been better. It all could've been better.

He finds a helmet of one of the Capitol soldiers, one modeled after a piglin skull. The camera pans to Techno's back where we see him remove his hood and strap the mask to his face. He pulls his shaggy hair into a small bun until it's long enough to be braided as is tradition in his culture.

He finds a blade sacred to the capitol and steals it for himself. What once was a sacred to the corrupt government will now lead to the downfall of all other governments.

Techno returns to the overworld and begins his search for Phil. He eventually meets up with Wilbur. As they search for Phil, they raid villages and learn the arts and crafting of potions, spell books, and even the reincarnation of ancient monsters known as Withers.

*Fast forward ten years*

*Yet another black screen*

Until loud whooping is heard and suddenly, teenage chaos ensues in what is personally known as Tommy's first day on the Dream SMP…

Written by @louisapennyfeather2021

Edited by anymal28

End Notes!

-Again, this is a fan made story.

Remember that the SMP is just a roleplay. Anything said or done in the roleplay does not correlate with real life events. Any insults or threats issued in the roleplay do not transfer into real life. Please do not start hating on a creator for something they did in the roleplay. That can hurt the creator and honestly makes you look like an idiot.

#dream smp #minecraft roleplay #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #mcty fandoms #philza #technoblade #dream team smp #dsmp au #dsmp lore

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allronix · 3 years

Text

Jedi and Green Sky

Ever catch yourself realizing your take on a fandom has been hopelessly influenced by your work in an entirely different fandom?

Those who read my Star Wars (especially KOTOR) rants know I’m not really a fan of the Jedi as an organization. Individual Jedi? Awesome. Once the groupthink kicks in? Far less than awesome. There’s also the Clone Wars situation; no matter how much apologia that comes out, I’m still not cool with the Clone Troopers. Still slavery. Still Bad Idea. And much of my take on the situation comes from the influence of these other fandoms.

One is a pretty natural connection to make with Star Wars - Galaxy Rangers is an obscure 80′s cartoon that is like Mass Effect meets Firefly with a generous dose of “Only in the 80′s.” (The soundtrack is pure mid-80′s Arena Rock and it’s amazing) The reason it influences my Star Wars writing is that the writing staff reads like a who’s who of the early Legends writers, such as Brian Daley (the Han Solo Trilogy), Shelly Shapiro, and James Lucerno. One of the characters in THAT series was a genetically engineered soldier who was part of a project to create soldiers trained from birth who could adapt to any environment and fight off threats to Earth. Instead of loyal Clone Troopers, the Supertrooper Project very literally blew up in the creators’ faces when the troops revolted. It ended with most of the Troopers being captured and thrown into cryogenic stasis, the rest on the run, and the only one staying loyal being one of the show’s protagonists and assigned to hunt down and either capture or kill his fellow Troopers. Something of a reverse Order 66. Yeah. Add to “list of reasons the Clone Army rubbed me entirely the wrong way”

Now, the other fandom influence that colors how I see the GFFA.

The Green Sky Trilogy is obscure but amazing stuff. (and has a minor footnote in gaming history as being possibly the first tie in game to be an authorized, canonical sequel. It’s also one of the earliest games where you could choose the gender or race of your Player Character and have NPCs react differently based on that choice) Part of the premise is that almost everyone has psionic ability, but the Ol-Zhaan priesthood is said to have these amazing powers that outclass everyone. Like the Jedi, the Ol-Zhaan are allowed sexual relations but not marriage or family. They can have friendships, but only with one another. They are given the role of priests, judges, educators, healers...they’re almost considered demigods.

Snyder wrote this in 1975, pre-dating the original Star Wars, but damned if the Prequel Jedi don’t remind me so much of the Ol-Zhaan it’s uncanny.

Well, this thirteen year old protagonist gets conscripted into that priesthood and finds out that...well, they “certain point of view” lied about a lot of things and outright lied about several more things, all in the idea of Greater Good and keeping what they saw as the Dark Side out of society.

The place would be a prequel-era Jedi’s idea of paradise. Complex chants and prayers to soothe mind pain. Meditations made into daily practice. Violence completely unheard of. Even the terms like “sorrow” and “anger” were minor vulgarities. They were so good at teaching peace and sharing that two year olds squabbling over a toy would be considered shocking. And for reasons no one really had ability to explain, people were relying more on the sacred (narcotic) berry, to the point where teachers handed them out in schools. More and more people were “disappearing,” especially those who questioned why things seemed not to be going right. The psionic gifts everyone was born with faded at earlier ages. Again, no one could figure out why and the Ol-Zhaan priests didn’t seem to have an answer.

The problem was that the whole plan to suppress the Dark Side worked...a little too well. Turns out that it was less the “Dark Side” and more “We want people to know the full ugly truth of human history and the spectrum of human emotions instead of having it so only the priests know the truth to ‘protect’ the common people, and trying to social engineer any potentially disruptive emotion out of society.” They jailed their dissidents...and their descendants. Then lied to the people and said that they’d been killed by monsters. Needless to say, this all comes out and the descendants of the dissidents are freed, and the Ol-Zhaan are VERY lucky that the people they jailed not necessarily out for revenge, but the Ol-Zhaan are finished as an organization. No Order 66 or anything, but they’re no longer seen as above and apart demigods.

In trying so hard to keep full control over the Light, the masters of the Ol-Zhaan did horrible things that made the situation worse. When Mace was talking about how the Jedi abilities seemed to be fading, my thought immediately went to conversation in the Green Sky books about how people couldn’t focus or perform their spirit skills like they used to, that they were fading at younger ages. Green Sky argued that people needed the truth, passion, and choice, and that it was more about how one used their passion than passion itself. Oddly enough, that fit more with the Potentium heresy that was running in Legends canon for a while.

#fandom meta #Galaxy Rangers #green sky trilogy #zilpha keatley snyder #star wars #jedi critical

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 2 - Silken Web

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 1384

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents

Notes: Time for another villain to appear! Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Red Son stands in front of a decrepit market stand. Shriveled brown excuses for vegetation dust the bottom of containers labeled as produce and cooking ingredients. But the demon he is looking for is nowhere to be seen. He peers into the tented area covered by curtains with an unimpressed glare. Still, the spider insignia on the stand’s sign is unmistakable, so he calls into the gloom with a demanding, authoritative voice. “Spider Queen! I have come to have some words with you. I am looking for something and I think you have the information I seek!”

At first there is nothing. But a soft wind picks up around his ankles and a sultry whisper drifts out of the stand. “Come in…” it says.

Red Son glances around the area, then slips inside the curtains.

“Farther inside…” the voice calls.

Red Son knows a trap when he sees one, but he continues on without fear as he looks around for any traces of trickery. It is dusty and the area seems untouched, except for the circular disk that he just stepped on.

“Right there…” says the voice, and Red Son can hear the smile in it as the disk drops down revealing a trap door.

Red Son gives a tired sigh as he falls and activates flames underneath his feet, slowing his descent on his way down the sudden hole in the floor.

He lands smoothly and kicks up flames around his feet in a circle to push back any potential enemy waiting for him below. It is dark, and he can hardly see anything. He hears some drip of water echo, giving a hint of a cavernous area. A scuttling noise bounces around him.

Red Son holds his palm upward in front of him and brings a ball of flame to life, lighting up his surroundings. He is indeed in a cave, as he thought, and it is covered in spider webs. The webs rustle and bounce as a result of quick movements that Red Son forces his eyes to follow despite them still adjusting to the light. The scuttling and the web movements sweep around him, and he twists around adjusting into a defensive stance as he prepares for what is facing him.

As he turns around he finds who he is looking for directly in front of him. If one weren’t paying attention, one might mistake her as an attractive human woman with long black hair and sparkling green eyes. But her greyish-purple skin and sharp fangs reveal a more demonic nature. Her spider-like body, complete with eight spindly legs with sharp ends come into the light, and she lifts herself high above Red Son, looking down at him with the ease of someone who knows how much power she holds.

“Spider Queen,” Red Son says with as much control as he can, despite an uptick in his heart rate. He takes a bow.

“My, what a polite boy,” the eight-legged spider demon drolls amusedly in an earthy accent. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of visiting me down in my Silken Web Cave?”

Red Son straightens himself up and introduces himself. “I am Red Son - the son of the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.”

“Yes, and a fire demon it seems,” she says eyeing the flame in his palm warily. “Spiders like us do not take kindly to fire like that…” Her mouth twitches in a hint of a grimace, but the smile never leaves her eyes.

“I did this so I can see, not so I may harm you… as long as I don’t have to…” Red Son says keeping his expression cool, but a smile of his own twitching at the corner of his lips. “I have come to request your assistance.”

“Assistance?” Spider Queen says with a tittering laugh. “That is amusing! What would I be assisting with?”

“Information. I want to know of any artifact or power source strong enough to kill an immortal.”

The Spider Queen quirks an eyebrow. “Might you be looking to destroy the Monkie Kid? I hear he has been causing you trouble. But I also hear that he is not indestructible. Your flames or a good enough whack should do the trick, I’d say,” she says clicking one of her legs harshly against the ground for emphasis.

“Not the Monkie Kid. The Monkey King!”

“Oh, is he still wandering around these parts!? I suppose that makes sense given that the Monkie Kid has been giving us demons a hard time.” She crosses her arms and looks up, tapping a finger to her cheek. “Well… I don’t know of any specific artifact that could destroy someone as powerful as that…” She again, eyes Red Son’s flames. “Buuuut… I do know of a way to power up your fire in a way that might allow you to gain the upper hand in a fight against him.”

Red Son’s eyes light up and the fire in his hand flares with his excitement. “Really!? Magnificent! Tell me! I must know!” He grins widely and wickedly, barely containing himself.

“Hahaha, you lose your manners so quickly when you are excited it seems,” Spider Queen laughs without joy. “Why would I give you such information without anything in return? What do you have for me?”

Red Son’s grin doesn’t falter, spreading further to show his teeth. “Oh, I hear that you’re looking for rare and powerful ingredients, and I have some for you right here.” Red Son pulls a pouch out of his pocket and opens it to reveal dark hairs sticking out of it. “The Monkie Kid’s hair, leftover from his defeated clones. I’m sure that's worth a little bit of information, now isn’t it?”

Red Son can tell he’s got her interest by the way that her eyes glimmer with no help from the flame he wields. She stretches out a hand, and two of her all too sharp legs reach toward him as well. “Yes!” she says, as if entranced by the sight of the hair.

“Uh, uh, uh!” Red Son tuts as he brings the bag close to the fire in his other hand, causing the Spider Queen to stop her advance. “I want my information first.”

Spider Queen’s smile tightens, and this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a shrewd little boy. But yes, I will tell you.”

Red Son smiles and listens intently.

Her posture straightens and with a flick of her wrist she spools out a strand of thread that begins to take shape into an abstract picture of a flame. So skilled is the puppetry of her silk webs, that the false flame seems to dance. “The power you are looking for is called ‘The True Fire of Samadhi.’”

As she weaves her story, so does she weave pictures into her web. She creates the image of a ring of mountains around a taller one. “You must seek out the Flaming Mountains surrounding the Monkey King’s own Flower Fruit Mountain. He knows not that his own weakness lies within the very fires that seemingly protect his solitude.” The abstract map-like picture shifts to a mountain to the left, with an opening about midway up. “In the tallest eastern mountain, there is a cave that leads to a shrine that can only be revealed by the rising sun. In there, you will find the power you seek.” Spider Queen releases her webs, letting them dangle, lifeless. She shifts her stance and her speech from storyteller to businesswoman in a second. “Is that enough information for you, sugar?”

Red Son nods enthusiastically and hands over the pouch. “I will be on my way, now.”

Spider Queen picks her finger through the hairs in the pouch as if counting gold coins. She certainly handles the pouch as if it were just as precious. “Oh, and one more thing, sweetie,” she says, waving an errant hand over her shoulder. “A warning, since you seem like quite the impatient type. The power there is as old as the mountains themselves. It has the power to overwhelm if found in the wrong hands.”

Red Son scoffs, barely giving her words a second thought. As if there were any fire that he couldn’t handle. He leaves, having gotten what he came for.

<-- previous // next -->

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lego #red son #spider queen #lmk #in need of refueling #fic #fanfiction #my writing #jadethest0ne #jadethestone

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beevean · 3 years

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3 years of Sonic Forces, the biggest love-hate relationship of the series

[note: this is the translation of @latin-dr-robotnik’s article]

Today is an almost special day, today it’s the anniversary of a rather peculiar game in this series.

On this day 3 years ago, the (to this day) newest game of Sonic Team was released: Sonic Forces. After waiting a year and a half since its announcement (and four years since Sonic Lost World’s release), it was finally time to see what the last chapter of the main series had in store for us, and the results were… okay.

There were so many warning signs in the months before the release: a marketing campaign that was noticeably absent until the very last month, opting to focus more on Mania (let’s not forget that we still get videos about Mania even after the game’s release, not so much about Forces), which added to the uncertainty caused by the footage already available at the time, which ended up being confirmed a few days before the release, when some people managed to get the game early and streamed a good chunk of the game. While one of the leakers was just a bad player, the quality of the game itself was put into question…

A harsh reality

I’m not going to soften up my words here: for being the latest Sonic game, in a post-Generations and post-Boom era, Sonic Forces fell short of everything it tried to do (if it tried). Anything positive comes from the roots of something negative, and in the context of this anniversary, after 3 years without knowing a thing about the next game, it only emphasizes the frustration and the disappointment it caused.

Sonic Forces promised a world devastated by Eggman, an epic battle to save the world and win against a powerful enemy. However, of so many promises, not even the first one, the most basic one, was kept: it was an empty takeover, explained poorly (because they didn’t even show it, they told it through text) and developed even worse. All the potential of such an exciting world was thrown away as soon as the game didn’t even try to explain some of its most important questions (like why Green Hill was in the process of desertification); to this day we still don’t know what the fuck does the Phantom Ruby do, in Mania it has some powers, in Forces it has different powers, and it’s not clear where does it come from or if it’s more powerful than the Chaos Emeralds. It is disappointing to not be able to discover all this untapped potential, and it is so disappointing that one of the oldest works on my blog was an attempt to rewrite the beginning of the game, give it more context and a better footing to start the adventure.

This old leak dates back to 2016, when the game was barely announced, and surprisingly it ended up being real, very very real. Even the title “Sonic Wars” is true, and if you don’t believe me you can open the game’s folder and read the names that appear. Source.

The confusion and disappointment don’t end here. If you have read the mess of opinions and emotions that is my analysis of the game [translator’s note: the link is in Spanish], you may have noticed that one of the biggest questions never answered was, what’s up with the order of the levels and why is it so confusing? Between 2016 and 2017, there were some leaks and statements going around places like Sonic Stadium that confirmed that the game went through numerous changes, not just in the plot, but in the levels as well. Right now I can’t find these old posts (I’m surprised that the fandom didn’t archive them), but it was said that the original idea for Forces, then still called Sonic Wars, was to shine the spotlight even more on the Avatar, or Buddy as it was called; the decision was unanimously rejected by SEGA of America and Europe, forcing SEGA of Japan to order that the game was modified. In fact, I remember that the leak that mentioned this meeting between the SEGA branches was rather bad, with a very tense atmosphere and lots of disagreements.

This is the closest thing to a confirmation of the scrapped plot that I could find. At least it’s proof that I’m not crazy and that Forces was indeed more focused on the Avatar. Source.

The mess that is the order of the levels, the questionable presence of characters like Classic Sonic, and some of the details of one of the leaked scrapped scripts such as that apparently they considered to reintroduce Mephiles – all of this shapes the network of a mediocre game, created under the premise of “from the creators of Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations” but taking all the wrong parts of those two games, using an engine that has been proven to be less efficient than Unleashed’s and Generations (and I’m not talking about the Hedgehog Engine, which is the graphical engine – I’m talking about the game and physics engine of Lost World), and with short levels and… polarizing bosses, to say the least.

The result is a game that shows a lot of potential, but in practice it doesn’t live up to it at all, be it for its own limitations (being rushed like hell) or for a noticeable lack of attention to details; it didn’t succeed in creating a cohesive and coherent world, with levels that could be worthy of what has been learned in these years. This is the reality of Sonic Forces.

And yet...

Despite everything I’ve just said, despite all the unacceptable errors that Forces made, and despite all the terribly wasted potential… we still talk about this game.

There are many reasons. On one hand, Forces and Mania have been the latest Sonic games for 3 years now, which is tragic in on itself (Team Sonic Racing disappeared from the face of the Earth); on the other, we still talk about Forces because there is something that still attracts us to it.

It’s not the same attraction we feel for Sonic ‘06, though. Forces is not a complete, almost-franchise-killing disaster like ‘06 was, it’s not a giant meme that spread from the fandom to popular circles and internet figures such as the Game Grumps. People have been trying to fix Forces’ mistakes, but not on the same scale as projects that tries to completely recreate ‘06 with a radically different engine, or fix each and every bug in the original version. Forces is nowhere near as infamous, and so the discussion goes in different directions.

youtube

Episode Shadow is still one of the most entertaining parts of the game, and one of the most important as well, as Shadow himself hadn’t been a playable character since… well, Sonic ‘06.

On one hand, there is a cult surrounding Infinite, one that I personally don’t agree with, and I don’t know if it’s bigger than Mephiles’ 15 years ago, but I do know that it exists and it’s still present. One of the ways Sonic Team tried to “go back to its roots” was to introduce a character like Infinite in a plot that was supposed to be “more serious”. Final results notwithstanding, Infinite managed to win the heart of a sizeable portion of the fandom, which still wishes for his return and development.

On the other hand, there is the Avatar, our personal OC with an impressive customization system, which allows us complete freedom, to the point that we could recreate characters introduced in Sonic IDW like Whisper the Wolf. What at first looked like a questionable idea, nothing more than a source of memes, ended up becoming the smartest idea Forces had, with a gameplay style that, in my opinion, retains a little of the old Adventure spirit, and even had some of the most fun levels in the game. While Classic Sonic ruined one third of the game, and Sonic was somewhat mediocre compared to his past feats, the Avatar’s gameplay style manages to keep its quality throughout the game, despite the fact that the plot keeps revolving around their presence instead of focusing on the other aspects of saving the world, which is... well, a little unfortunate.

Even I, who I’m not really into Sonic OCs, had a lot of fun recreating some of the characters.

And finally we get to the best part of the entire game: the music.

Even after three years my opinions haven’t changed much. Forces’ music isn’t perfect, it has its low moments (I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t like Light of Hope) and some disasters (F*ded H*lls lol), but overall it has good intentions and it has some pretty good highlights.

The use of synths, as overdone and criticized as it is, was an honest attempt to follow a trend present in older games, like Sonic Unleashed, where this instrument symbolized Eggman’s influence. An interesting touch that, while wasn’t completely successful, is appreciated.

youtube

I still say that Fighting Onward is one of the best themes of the entire game, and Spaceport as the level benefits from having it.

Then there’s the best part of the entire soundtrack: the return of vocal themes, such as the main theme, the villain theme, and some of the level themes. I cannot explain with enough words how much fans were waiting for this, and it was brilliantly handled by the advertising campaign: a preview of the instrumental version of Fist Bump, a short peek of the Avatar themes, and finally the reveal of some of the major themes. It’s not surprising that it became one of the most appreciated parts by the fans. From the iconic intro of Fading World to the subtle nod to Green Hill in Set In Motion, every theme has something that makes it stand out from the rest of the game.

But even so, the rest of the music in the game has redeemable points as well. Forces in general distances itself from the music styles previously used in the series, especially from the variety of incredible sounds of Unleashed or even Lost World; but from time to time it still recognizably Sonic, like in the half-Megaman, half-Runners Network Terminal, in the extremely epic and underrated Last Judgement, or in the always-mentioned Ghost Town (not the only “good” Classic theme in my opinion, but the first one that comes to mind). Even the remixed Zavok theme sound better in Forces than in its original version.

A love-hate relationship

At the end of the day, the only thing left I could say is that Forces is still one of the most polarizing games in the series. 3 years aren’t enough to heal some of the wounds left by the 4-year hiatus, plus the disappointment of the time, but at the same time these 3 years kept alive the memory of its best moment, the discussions about the music and the uncountable groups of fans reunited to share OCs like the fandom has always done.

In this anniversary, I thought it would be interesting to revisit a bit the peculiar relationship I have with this game, as we wait for a new hype cycle for the next game. And maybe, just maybe, that will be the moment Forces will fade from our collective memory, at least for a decade, until new fans will look back to the good and bad this game has done. And I hope that, in the future, the situation of the franchise will also be different from what it has been these last years, in a good way of course.

This is all we have left of Forces today, a game that did not manage to capitalize on its opportunities, and a game that shames the legacy of the Unleashed-Colors-Generations era; but also a game that had some genuine, interesting ideas, and a different musical direction, one that (with some exceptions) was what the fans wanted. It’s a polarizing game, it’s a love-hate relationship.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #translation #happy birthday forces #i've translated this article because it sums up my thoughts pretty well #i don't hate it and there are things i unironically like about it #but overall it was a big disappointment

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kumeko · 4 years

Photo

Title: for the dances that never were

Prompt: Exploration, Secret, Ambition, Devotion, Bonus: Gossip

A/N: For the Fódlan Bakeoff challenge! I couldn’t post it on time due to internet issues (sadness). I had a hard time picking what characters to write before realizing, I haven’t posted anything with my OTP of the series!

…

There was, Claude had to reluctantly admit, a sort of grace to Fódlan dancing. Standing in the Great Hall, he watched as his peers swirled on the dance floor. Above them, enormous chandeliers gave enough light to chase the shadows out of every corner. Dresses swished as women twirled, the silken fabrics resembling a fully-bloomed rose. Pairs of dancers glided past one another, just narrowly avoiding collision.

This dance was nowhere near as loud or energetic as an Almyran dance. There was a vibrancy, a feeling of life in their movements that just couldn’t be matched with a simple twirl and side-step. Still, the dances here were nonetheless pleasing to watch. Standing in a corner, he swirled his wine and watched as the lion prince and eagle emperor dominated the dance floor, elegance and poise radiating off every step.

Claude wasn’t the only one watching. Across the dance floor, he spotted Byleth and Jeralt chatting amicably, their eyes firmly on the students. Well, he guessed they were having fun. It was hard to tell with his professor sometimes, her expression was often blanker than a slate.

“Whatcha looking at?” A familiar voice asked beside him and he didn’t have to turn his head to know it was Hilda. Slightly breathless, she leaned back and fanned herself. “Or should I say who?”

“You can say whatever you like,” he replied smoothly, smiling as he turned to his exhausted friend. Her neatly coifed hair was starting to unravel, stray hairs falling out of her bun. “Someone’s popular.”

“Please, I’m not that popular.” Despite her words, she looked utterly pleased. Winking at him, she gestured at the professor. “She’s everyone’s first choice.”

That didn’t surprise him in the least. It explained why Byleth’s expression looked slightly worn, the way it did when she’d entertained too many of his questions or cleaned up after his pranks. “I wonder who her’s is.”

“No idea.” Sighing, Hilda shrugged. “She accepted everyone who asked, which is really stupid. You have to be picky or you’ll wear yourself out.”

“Like you have?” he teased, smirking.

“I am just taking a short break. I can still dance.” Hilda glanced at Byleth, than at him. “You going to ask her too?”

“Maybe.” It wasn’t a bad idea. She was Jeralt’s daughter, a teacher at the academy, the wielder of the Creator’s Sword, and seemingly Rhea’s favourite. There were only bonuses to getting closer to her. One way or another, she’d be useful to his ambitions. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating, standing on this side of the room and as far from her as possible.

“Ohh, too late.” Hilda giggled as Sylvain approached Byleth, looking as charming as ever. “You have to be fast to catch her.”

“There’s always the dance after.” Claude shrugged. Holding out a hand, he winked. “Care for one more?”

Hilda frowned. She still took his hand. “I thought I told you I didn’t like too much work.”

ii.

Claude stared at the ceiling. It was funny how, five years later, this sight remained the same. The dorms hadn’t been as badly damaged as the rest of the academy in the attack, but his room had remained utterly unscratched. The structural damage remained unseen.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the leaves as they gently rustled. An owl hooted nearby, crickets chirped. Five years ago, there would have been students chattering as they snuck off for a nightly escapade. Now there was just the clink of chain mail, the guards patrolling the area in case of attack.

After tomorrow, they wouldn’t need to. A final clash between Empire and Alliance, one that would hopefully go as the battle of Eagle and Lion had gone years ago. Claude sat up at the thought. Who was he kidding? That had been a friendly bout between houses. Now almost everyone he’d defeated from that time was dead. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. There would be no sleep tonight, which was a pity. A tactician needed his rest. Edelgard and Hubert wouldn’t make tomorrow’s battle easy.

Slipping out of his bed, he crept out of his room. The sensation as he stalked the school at night was both familiar and strange. Even now, he remembered the secret passages, which stairs creaked, the best shadows to slip in. Yet the stairs were different, the walls lined with scorch mark, and he felt like he was exploring an entirely new place, an explorer finding ruins where a city should have stood.

He was not sure what led him to the great hall, to the half-collapsed ballroom. He wasn’t sure, but when he spied Byleth inside, sitting on a jagged piece of rubble, he couldn’t stop his smile. Somehow, his path led to her, and he shouldn’t have expected this to be any different. They were connected, fates intertwined, and he was certain that if she died, their journey would end right there.

Despite his quiet entrance, Byleth noticed him right away and watched as he slowly approached him. Bathed in moonlight through the broken roof, there was something ethereal about his former teacher. She had always been a mystery, even before all of this. With her blank expression and gaps of knowledge, there had been something interesting about her. The secrets she held now only made her even more intriguing.

He always liked puzzles. Sauntering over, he asked, “Couldn’t sleep, Teach?”

Byleth shook her head. Her eyes looked even darker in the gloom. It was strange to think that he’d seen this place entirely lit up once. Now all it held were shadows.

“Me neither.” He leaned against the rubble, looking around him. “One way or another, it will end tomorrow.”

“Can we…” Byleth trailed off, her voice so low he could barely hear it. She wrapped an arm around herself, her fingers digging into her arm. “Do you think we can…”

“Win?” Claude guessed, giving her a confident smirk. “Of course.”

She shook her head. “Save them.”

“Oh.” That was a harder question. Almost impossible to answer. Edelgard and Hubert would fight to the death; he had never seen either of them back down. Dedue seemed to be on a suicide mission. How many others were left alive? Petra, Dorothea—but who else? Maybe some of the Blue Lions had survived that last skirmish and were just hiding. “I don’t know.”

Her shoulders slumped at the answer. It was strange to think that at one point he thought her emotionless. Her tells were more subtle than others, for sure, but he could read her now. It was hard to mistake the sorrow washing over her for anything else.

Maybe she wouldn’t smile, but he wanted her to be at least a little happy before it went down. One way or another, it would end tomorrow. Maybe he’d die. Maybe she would. Maybe neither of them would and he’d remember this night as the time he had been a little dramatic. Claude gestured around them. “Remember the last time we were here?”

Byleth glanced at him curiously before nodding. “The dance.”

“Yep. I remember someone being very popular that night.” He winked at her. “I think you danced with everyone that night.”

Still not following him, she nodded. “There were a lot of hands. I didn’t want to refuse anyone.”

“Even Marianne asked you to dance.” Claude sighed. “And yet, I think I’m the only one who didn’t get a dance.”

“You didn’t?” Byleth frowned, ticking off her fingers as she remembered that night. It might have been five years for him, but for her it must have felt like months.

“Every time you took a break, someone else approached. What’s a poor guy to do?” Claude tapped his chin for a long minute before pretending to come up with an idea. “Oh, but you’re free now.”

“There’s no music,” she pointed out, catching on.

“That’s fine.” Claude held out a hand. “I still want my turn.”

She looked at him for a long second, and he wondered what was going on behind her green eyes. There had always been a practical air about her, no doubt from her lifetime of mercenary work. He wasn’t even sure if she liked dancing, let alone wanted to do it. Before he could retract the offer though, she slipped her hand in his. “Alright.”

“Great.” He pulled her down from the rubble and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Winking, he started waltzing through the debris. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to dance.”

“I never learned in the first place,” Byleth answered, her tone lighter. It was a start.

“Then I’ll just have to take lead.” Claude twirled her. He wasn’t sure when it happened, when he’d stopped thinking of Byleth as a friend and instead as something more. Maybe that was what had stilled his hand all those years ago, an emotion that had slowly taken root and refused to go.

He had always known he was a bit of a coward, but hadn’t realized that it even extended to his feelings.

iii.

It wasn’t a surprise to find Byleth alone, after all was said and done. They had defeated the Empire and yet somehow, it didn’t feel like a win at all. They had lost almost all their classmates, either at their hands or at the hands of the Empire. Even Dedue, who had reappeared out of nowhere, had fallen in his last-ditch attempt to avenge his king. And even then, after killing Edelgard, they had discovered that they had an older enemy to face.

It was no surprise that victory rang hollow. His peers were scattered about the monastery, trying to make sense of it all, and so it wasn’t a surprise that Byleth had isolated herself as well. What was surprising, though, was that he’d found her here in the ballroom once more. The repairs were almost done now, the rubble from before cleaned up. There were cracks along the walls, signs of the war that wouldn’t fade, but with a little paint this would be a ballroom once more.

The late evening light bathed the room a dark red. It wasn’t the same colour as Edelgard’s cloak, as her blood, but he couldn’t look at it all the same. Byleth stood in the center of the room, back toward him. He wondered what expression she had.

“You okay?” he asked, leaving off her nickname as he broke the silence. It was too quiet in here. It reminded him of the throne room and he didn’t want to think of that.

Byleth didn’t reply. She turned toward him, looking utterly heartbroken.

Stopping next to her, he lifted his hand before dropping it back to his side. He didn’t know where to touch her, what to say that wouldn’t hurt her. She had looked like this as she’d lifted her sword, as Edelgard had closed her eyes. He should have stepped up then, taken her sword so she didn’t have to carry that burden too.

He could still hear the sound as Edelgard’s head hit the ground. Maybe she was still listening to it too.

Finally, she uttered, “Did it have to be like this?” Byleth gestured around, her voice cracking slightly. “We danced here. Edelgard, Dimitri—I danced with all of them. Couldn’t we have done something?”

It was a question he had asked himself many times. There had to be a path, somewhere, somehow, that had all of their houses surviving, all of the people coexisting. But there had been too many secrets, too many untold ambitions and hopes. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

He hoped there had been but it was too late now.

“I should have been here,” she murmured, her shoulders sagging from the weight of it all. He had never thought of Byleth as a small woman, but she looked tiny now. A single touch could shatter her. Somehow, despite it all, she didn’t cry. Her expression looked like she wanted to, needed to, but her tears remained unshed.

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Gingerly, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. He hadn’t understood the word devotion before, what had made his mother leave her homeland and everything she’d ever known, but he could feel it now pulsating through his veins. Claude would give anything to make Byleth whole again but after this, he wasn’t sure anything could.

“There had to be something.” She rested her head against his shoulder.

“Even if there was, we can’t change the past.” Claude slowly walked her around the room, a slower version of the waltz they’d done just a month ago. He hadn’t imagined that the next time they’d be in this room, they’d feel even worse than they had then. “There’s only the future.”

“The future.” She followed his steps automatically. “Another fight.”

“Beyond that.” He shook his head, pulling back so she had to look at him. Smiling gently, he added, “After the war, after it all—that future.”

She still looked lost. “What happens then?”

“Many things. My dreams. Yours.” He rested a hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the dance. Half of him wanted to confess, to kiss. To show her there was some light in the darkness. But the future was still too uncertain and he didn’t want his love to be another stone she had to carry. “We’re bringing peace to everyone. We’re going to change Fódlan, for the better.”

“So no one has to go through this again.” Byleth nodded, her lips pulling up slightly.

“So no one has to feel like this again,” he echoed, resisting the urge to push back her hair. “We can do this.”

“Yes.” While her expression still looked bittersweet, he thought it was more sweet than bitter this time. “Thanks, Claude.”

“Anytime. We’re in this together.” Claude winked. “We’re partners, right?”

“What about you?” Byleth asked, looking at her hand. She turned her attention to him, her green eyes bright. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now.” It was a truth, in a sense. He felt much better now that she did. After all this was over, maybe he’d tell her what was really in his heart. When she still looked doubtful, he playfully added, “Teach, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

She didn’t refute him, like he’d expected. Instead she gave him a flat look. “Of course I do.”

Claude wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t even sure what she meant, or if he wanted her to clarify. There was no way to tell without asking. Faking a laugh, he replied, “Aww, Lorenz will be jealous.”

“How are the others?” she asked, looking past him at the ballroom entrance. “I should check on them.”

“They’re coping, but I think they’d like a little comforting from you.” Claude sighed. “I guess I can’t hog you all to myself.”

“No, you can’t,” she agreed, letting go. Byleth had always been all work and no play, and he had expected this reaction.

That didn’t make his hand feel any less empty. “I’ll head to the war room, then. Maybe Judith has some information on those slithering guys.”

Byleth nodded before heading to the doors. At the threshold, she paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “After this is over, let’s have another dance here.”

“A dance?” Claude smiled as he looked around the room. More than a paint of coat, what this room needed was laughter, was the smell of sweets and the bright lights of a thousand candles. It was what they’d all need, after it was all over. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. A party would lift everyone’s spirits.”

“And this time, you’ll ask me to dance.”

He whipped his head to the entrance, but she was already gone.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who had some feelings left unsaid.

#claude von riegan #byleth #claudeth #fe3h #claudeleth #claude x byleth #fire emblem three houses #fanfic #it's been ages since I've written a non-zine piece #huzzah

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