#-while black hole absorbs all of everything until its forever end

[grechsblog]

Thinking again about the game and its end fight and do you guys think bigfrin could be classified as a black hole or as a supernova

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

The Grey Goo vs The Disembodied Thought!

Conditions:

Both start at their absolute smallest and must work their way up to peak power.

Scenario:

In its attempts to understand both itself and everything, the Disembodied Thought comes across the Grey Goo and decides to stop it from devouring the universe before it itself can understand all of it.

Analysis: The Grey Goo

What is the end of the world going to look like? A nuclear war driven the ideological differences of dictators and empires? A heat death brought about by unstoppable climate disaster? Or maybe it'll be something a bit more classic. The unstoppable encroaching of the Grey Goo scenario.

...Either way, we likely weren't expecting extinction to look this adorable.

The Grey Goo in question was the creation of two bumbling scientists in a lab, who, in their incompetent hubris, accidentally let the Sub-Atomic Microorganism free from the Petrie dish containing it. Not only that, but they'd even go so far as to let it absorb a time machine as it grew, allowing it to go back in time and irreversible change history.

The results were self explanatory. The Grey Goo broke down everything it touched on a sub-atomic level, absorbing it into its mass and growing ever bigger. Once it begain snacking on dinosaurs, it eventually grew big enough to eat the meteor that wiped them out and allow them to continue existing into the present day. As it devoured its way across time, it would grow exponentially from there. In just a few minutes of binging, it grew from just small enough to eat quarks, to big enough to eat cars. And its speed would only increase in proportion to its size. Within a few more minutes it was large enough to eat buildings and dinosaurs. A few minutes more and it could eat island, continents, and, inevitably, the tasty, tasty planet on which we live.

As unstoppable as that may seem, the Goo's rapid rate of expansion certainly saved its bacon a few times. It cannot absorb objects that are significantly larger than itself. It has to grow up to a somewhat comparable level first. So even at this planet destroying level, stars and black holes could still potentially destroy. Until it got bigger... and they couldn't anymore. The Goo achieved the ability to move itself through space through sheer size alone and just kept eating. And any damage it did take while growing was just regenerated, as the Grey Goo used the material it was absorbing to regrow itself. Eventually, even the heat of stars and the power of black holes could do nothing to it as the Goo just... ate them. And kept eating. More and more until there was simply nothing left.

The original story has it end there. After eating the very fabric of time, the Goo exploded and recreated reality in a new big bang. But the sequels had to go even farther. In Tasty Planet back for Seconds, the Goo would grow even bigger and eat the Turtles of Time. Massive Turtles who held the universe itself on their back, each one exponentially bigger than the one ridding on its back. An infinite line of delicious meals all the way down. In Tasty Planet forever, it grows bigger even still. The Goo is so immense that entire universes are no bigger than mere quarks relative to its glorious grey immensity.

The multiverse itself was the only meal left. Everything else was just crumbs on its plate.

Analysis: Disembodied Thought

What am I? Who am I? What does it mean to be me?

These were the first ideas that occurred to the being known as the Disembodied Thought. An abstract, non-physical being spawned from nothing with no context for its life. It didn’t know what it was, where it was going, or what it was going to be. So, it decided it was going to try to be everything and see where it felt like going from there.

So, it became a bear. It possessed a random black bear and lived its life as one. Then it possessed several black bears, a whole flock of them, simultaneously, to experience life from multiple perspectives. As it grew to understand the world around it, the Thought would leap into different bodies to understand the world from different perspectives. It could possess anything it interacted with, traveling the world as a blade of grass or as a herd of goats, able to move no matter its current body's limitations. It could possess an infinite number of objects at once, so long as they were all the same object. It could possess every goat on Earth, with no limits, but it could only do that as a goat.

The Thought would experiment with viewing life from both high and low perspectives. It could possess atoms, quarks, and even 1-dimensional points in space to see the little things in life. Or it could possess planets, galaxies, and stars to get the whole picture. And once it had a perspective, it could share that perspective with its current host. If its grown to the point of possessing planets, then it can take a bear's body and grow it to the size of a planet. The Thought's ability to possess things grows in tandem with its increasing awareness. The more it learns about the world, the more it can possess within the world. It learned how to possess quarks and strings by learning that such things existed and it learned how to possess planets by discovering planets. So, once it discovered everything, it became Everything. The entire universe, in all of its infinity.

Naturally, a being that grows stronger with its experiences can only be defeated by something that turned all of its experiences against it. At the peak of its power and knowledge, the Thought would find itself within the Golden Gate. A pocket reality that contained everything within itself by convincing it that escape was impossible. Every thought or idea the entity within it experienced was used to drive home the fact that escape was impossible. Every train of thought lead to the idea "I can not escape", so no even tries.

So the Disembodied Thought escaped.... by purging itself of every thought or idea it had ever had up until that point in its life and becoming the Golden Gate. Now at its absolute biggest, the Disembodied Thought existed.... as nothing but a single quark. The entire universe existed as nothing but a single quark inside a much bigger universe, which itself was just a quark in another universe still. Onwards and upwards forever, quarks all the way to infinity.

The Disembodied Thought would never stop learning, never stop growing, and never stop becoming, because life was simply too big to run out of things to be. And the Thought would not stop until it could be and know Everything.

Throwdown Theme:

Throwdown Breakdown:

This is a very unique matchup with some very interesting questions.

While both can eventually possess/assimilate the other, they would not be able to do so immediately. The Thought would not be able to possess the nanotechnology that makes up the Goo until it learns what nanotechnology is or that things on that relative size exist, while the Goo only gains the ability to absorb non-physical objects, such as the very fabric of time, after its already eaten everything else in the universe. Before then, the Goo eating the Thought's body would just force the Thought to possess something else.

Both also have other options to make unlocking their win conditions more interesting. For example, the Goo could go back in time to before the Thought was a relative threat to itself and just absorb it then. But, I'd argue this would require a level of creative thinking that the Goo has never really demonstrated, as its time travel usage was often accidental and it rarely displayed any tactical thinking beyond "avoid thing bigger than me". I think the Thought's advantages are more in character and more substantial.

First off, the Thought at its biggest is much, much bigger than the Goo at its biggest. The Goo is large enough that universes are mere quarks relative to its body, but the Thought keeps going past that. Becoming universes that are bigger than universes that are bigger than universes, constantly traveling upwards forever. Sure, the Goo eats the Turtles of Time, but those Turtles aren't infinitely bigger than each other. There's just an infinite amount of them. Meanwhile, each universe in Everything is infinitely bigger than the last, with the previous universe just being a single quark in the larger one. Even if the Goo could catch up, it couldn't get past the Golden Gate, which the Thought could at that point become in order to keep the Goo contained.

Secondly, the Thought can also be much smaller than the Goo. Sure, the Grey Goo can eat down to the subatomic level, but even quarks are still 3-dimensional objects. Just much smaller ones. The Goo cannot eat 1-dimensional points in space. Just eat the 3-D area around it. It wouldn't even be able to see the Thought at that point, much less hurt it. It's like trying punch a molecule.

And finally, it's much more likely that the Thought would become aware of and able to possess the nanotechnology the Goo is made of sooner than the Goo can grow big enough to eat the fabric of time. While the Goo could simply time travel to a point where the Thought does not exist to avoid this, I'd argue that is out of character. The Grey Goo does not register anything as a threat unless it is noticeably bigger than itself, and as such, likely isn't smart enough to think of this strategy or realize the Thought can threaten it in this way. Once possessed, the Thought can just throw it into a volcano or star to destroy it depending on how big the Goo currently is.

For all the Goo's hunger and size, in the face on infinity it is only a tiny, hungry blob. It cannot measure up to the vastness of Everything.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

The Disembodied Thought!

[consumingromance]

A Sarlacc Story

She’d kept her eyes down throughout the journey to the Sarlacc. Chiss eyes were NOT well adapted to Tatooine’s twin suns. So it was she got a good look of where she was going when the speeder pulled into position above the creature’s maw.

It would not be a quick death. She’d been promised that. Although the threat of being digested for a thousand years was a bit much. Surely she’d die well before that. Most creatures did not have air in their digestive systems. That would mean minutes before suffocation. Even if she could breathe, she’d die of thirst within days. Still, she knew however long she lasted it would hurt, slowly burning, melting...digesting…

She also knew that it didn’t have to end like this. She was rare...exotic...beautiful. Blue skin and glowing red eyes framed by thick black hair, pronounced cheekbones and fine features. Alien in a way combination not seen in this Galaxy. A rarity from the chaos beyond wild space.

He wanted to keep her, that’s why he was making a show of this. As an example to other slaves of what would happen if you didn’t behave sure, but also a lesson in his mercy. If she begged and submitted, he’d spare her. If that wasn’t the case he’d have killed her quickly, thrown her to his rancor, or had her shot. He didn’t hate her particularly, no reason to give her a particularly brutal death. This was an opportunity, ample time to think this over, and choose to submit to him.

She chose the Sarlacc.

She jumped before she could be pushed. She would die on her own terms. Insomuch as possible.

Her eyes squeezed shut the second after she jumped.

The landing didn’t hurt, the tongue was soft. The slide further in almost gentle. She opened her eyes and watched the light of day disappear as she was pulled further down the tunnel of flesh. The walls quivered slightly as the thing let out a belch.   Her feet hit resistance for a moment but the sphincter shifted to make room for her. The flesh around her pulsed to push her further down into the bowels of the creature. Then came the tentacles, they wrapped around her, pulling her, stinging her, and then numbing her. She couldn’t move. Everywhere they touched shd couldn’t move.

Her heart raced. She didn’t want to be trapped inside her body while she died. She couldn’t even scream then, she tried but no words came out. She was frozen, paralyzed. Around her she heard the squelching of its digestive system along with rhythmic breathing and the beating of multiple hearts. Then a voice.

“Hello, Mitth’rae’sabosen”

Her eyes widened. “Who? How?” Where was the voice coming from. How did it know her name? How could it even speak her language. No...it wasn’t speaking it was in her head. Could she understand it because it was speaking in thoughts or because it understood was it was saying and their minds were linked. It was a weird feeling. She knew it was in her head and she was in its head and that it was hungry. She knew it was going to eat her.

“Do not panic, breathe,” it told her, “the venom will tranquilize you, paralyze you, but only until we have you in position.”

She tried to pull her limbs to move to fight. She was pushed further down, angled to her right, and another pulsing sphincter. She could barely make it out in the darkness, but her eyes were well equipped to use every bit of light that filtered down this far.

“They not it,” the voice corrected, reading her thoughts.

“Position for what?” she asked them. “To digest,” came the voice, not not a voice, a thought communicating directly to her mind. “We have many stomachs and you will be digested slowly.”

“Let me go!” she thought desperately.

“Never,” came the reply. “You will become part of me, of us. Relax, just relax. You don’t have much choice. The venom is working, slowing down everything. Nice, and heavy and relaxed. There you are. Nice and soft. Time to slide down.”

Flesh pulsed around her as the muscles of body and tentacle pushed her along until she spilled into another chamber. She toppled downward landing in a pool of digestive fluid. Immediately her skin began to itch which soon grew to a burn. Still, she couldn’t scream. She felt more tentacles of flesh wrapping around her, holding her in place. “Thraes,” came the voice in her head. “Do not focus on the pain. That body does not matter.”

“It hurts,” there are tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid.”

The voice is no longer her voice now, but a little girl’s voice. The voice she had once. Her caretaker frowned at her.

“Au’rae,” she said patiently, “you’ve been a sky walker for how long now? Aren’t you a bit too old to be afraid.”

But that was just it. The older she got the closer she came to the time when her third sight would fail. She would always be afraid. Afraid of failing, of crashing, and of falling. Everything and everyone counted on her. She was only eleven, she still had time, a couple of years probably, but still.

Not that she had much of a choice. She had to do it. It was her job. It was all that she was - a Chiss sky walker. So special and valued and needed. Her third sight allowed the ship to navigate the chaos. She knew what would happen before it happened so she could adjust coordinates in hyperspace to avoid suns or black holes of planets. She could cut a path sticking to the void by seeing disaster before it struck and avoiding it.

“It’s all right to be afraid,” said the pilot, Mitth’ri’alanov. She was nice. She’d even said it was ok to call her Thria, like they were friends. “You feel what you feel, just try recognizing the feeling as just that a feeling. The thoughts as just thoughts. You’re going to do great. You always do. Show me the way, we’ll go together when you’re ready.”

Throes came back to herself, nestled among coils of flesh. “What did? How did?”

“We see you,” said the voice. “In time we’ll see all of you. Bit by bit like...scanning a file.”

“Who are you? What are you?”

“We are the Sarlacc,” said the voice, “and you are mine, ours and you will be us in time and forever.”

“Us?”

“We are us, the female Sarlacc and the male she absorbed and the minds of those we ate and kept.”

“You keep the minds of your prey?”

“Only the interesting ones,” said the voice. “You are very interesting. You come from beyond this galaxy. We will see so much through your memories.”

Around her, the stomachs still squelched and the hearts still beat, the flesh moved in time with breathing lungs and pulsed in rhythm as she slowly churned. The irritation was less noticeable now. There were other feelings too. Fullness, satisfaction. The Sarlacc’s feelings.

“You are delicious, and nourishing, we appreciate you, and more than that we’re very pleased to have you. We only keep the most stimulating minds.”

“How?”

“We digest slowly, and not the minds. We wrap them as they digest and take a bit at a time. A leg, an arm, bit by bit. The minds become a part of us, the Sarlac, and are fed as we are absorbed.”

“Are you everyone?” she asked. “I am...the oldest, the loudest, I no longer remember my name,” said the voice. “I hear the others and relay things. You are not ready to be overwhelmed with voices. I prefer to give feelings, nice feelings. Transition you into us. There were butterflies on Tython when I was young. They dissolve themselves to transform you know?”

“Butterflies are free,” she responded. “Sarlaccs are not,” said the voice. “Not once they’re rooted. As spores, they can fly and are free, but once we find each other, male and female, we become each other and root and grow. Then we are trapped, except for the memories of minds.”

“So I’m trapped too, like you and all your victims,” she said.

“Guests,” said the voice, “This belly is your new home and its other guests will be your new friends. We keep them all as comfortable as we can under the circumstances. We let them feel our pleasure and hope we can guide their minds away from their pain.”

“I can’t move,” Thraes said again, “I hate it.”

“Don’t worry, the paralytics will wear off very soon,” the voice assured, “but you’ll be easier to digest if you keep still. We’ll hold you and keep you wrapped up snuggly, but lose enough to turn if you’d like. We enjoy some wiggling. There’s a bantha further in. It fell a few weeks ago. Those things go to the other stomach for quick digestion since they lack sapience. However, our acids are weak and its skull is thick so the process will still take some time. That meal is still squirming down there in the pit of my lowest belly. It’s a satisfying feeling, I could share it with you if you’d like.”

“You make it sound like a choice,” she said, “like you’re not overwhelming my mind with yours.”

“I don’t want to force you. I don’t want to upset you. But know the sooner you begin to enjoy becoming part of me the easier it will be for you,” said the Sarlacc. “If you cling to yourself, your body, well...digestion won’t be very pleasant. I will merge with you and you will live thousands of years. If you focus on your body, you’ll feel every moment as you burn and melt away.”

“You’re cruel and manipulative.”

“I’m honest, and hungry and thirsty, I want to live and not alone and trapped but in a matrix of minds. I can not help what I am, but I’d rather those I take be have a more symbiotic relationship rather than simply being my prey.”

“Would you kill me quickly if I asked?”

“I cannot, but I can kill you quicker. If I do not nourish you, your brain will die. But I would hate to lose you,” said the Sarlacc. “You’re mine and I want to keep you. To hold you and protect you, keep your mind cradled and safe and a part of me. You have so many stories to tell and we so much to share with you.”

A memory surrounded her. She was in the sky walkers quarters packing up her belongings. “I hate this,” she said.

“I know,” said Thria, “I was so sad after my last flight as a sky walker. Everything was going to change and there was nothing I could do about it. My whole life I knew what I was and now...that was gone. Change isn’t easy.”

“But you knew what you wanted to be,” Au’rae protested, “I have no idea.”

“I was lucky, I’ll admit,” said Thria. “As a sky walker I met Mitth’thrawn’urodo. He taught me to fly. He recognized it was what I wanted before even I did and I knew that’s the life I wanted.”

“He was Mitth too?” asked Au’rae.

“I requested to be matched with the Mitth because of him. Well, him and my care taker,” said Thria. “As a sky walker every family would be happy to have you as a merit adoptive.” She bent down and tucked a strand of hair behind Au’rae’s ear. “They don’t tell you this, but, you can ask for a specific family.”

“So I guess I have a choice in something,” said Au’rae, comforted at the thought.

“You have a choice in everything, going forward,” said Thria. “Your whole life is ahead of you.”

“It doesn’t feel like that,” Au’rae shrugged, “my whole life there’s never really been choices. I was a sky walker because that’s just how I am and now I’m not anymore and I don’t have any choice about that.”

“As a merit adoptive you’ll have so many opportunities,”  Thria assured her.

“But I don’t even know what I want to be,” she said, “Sky walking was all I was good at and now I’m not good at that anymore and I don’t know what I’ll be good at or if I’ll be good at anything or what I’ll want…I feel trapped, and I hate it.”

“Maybe what you’ll want is whatever makes you feel free,” said Thria.

“Is that why you left the Ascendency?” asked the Sarlacc. The question pulled Thraes back to the present. “Chasing freedom.”

“Sometimes it feels like every choice is a trap,” she said, “you pick one path and all the others close, and the older you get the fewer paths are left. And now…”

The tentacles around squeezed gently and released, almost like a hug. She felt so warm. “You have nothing to fear. We love you. We want you. We will keep you always and there so much you can yet become as you get to know us, so many memories and lives and new friends are waiting.”

“What do you get out of this?” she asked, “willing prey. How does it benefit your survival?”

She heard laughter in her mind and around her the walls shook. “We have never met another Sarlacc, we nest too far apart to touch each other’s minds. So I cannot say if this serves us as a species. But personally, we like feeling emotions, we enjoy sharing joy with our guests and enjoy experiencing their happiness. So I like it if prey joins but you will not be happy if it’s forced. And there’s no rush.”

“It will hurt if I don’t join with you,” she said, “or choose a quicker death. That’s a rush.”

“I will digest you very slowly,” said the Sarlacc, “so slowly that you won’t be damaged for a while. You’ve been here a day and it’s just a slight burn. You can barely notice it already. I’ll keep my stomachs focused on other morsels and give you time. We can take this slow. If you would like I can make introductions to the others who make up me, make up us. Would you like that?”

She felt herself nodding, relaxing in the cradle of tendrils. If she was going to make a choice it was probably better to know how the other meals were enjoying their new home.

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 30: 1x21 The Return of the Archons

Took a break from Halloween-ing to watch TOS with my mom. Today’s ep, the rather lackluster Return of the Archons.

A very in media res beginning! Unsurprisingly since a lot of the drama of this episode hangs on the audience not knowing the whole story.

Sulu is looking damn fine. These weird outfits really do it for him.

Maybe O’Neill had the right idea in running instead of waiting for the transporter. (Or maybe not, seeing as we later find out they caught him too.)

Look at the heels on their boots lol. I always forget about that.

Today’s official adventure: looking for the missing ship Archon.

“Sulu’s mysterious condition requires that I, the Captain, collect all of the most important people on board the ship and beam down into a planet we already know to be full of dangers.”

“Materialization completed.” Uh good to know Kirk.

Why is Spock wearing that dramatic-ass cloak? (I know it’s because he needs a hood to cover his ears but he still looks very much not of a piece.)

Whereas McCoy looks like a down-home Georgia gentleman. He looks like he’s returned to his natural habitat.

I bet these are the sort of outfits AOS Kirk wished he was wearing when he was sighing wearily at his closet filled with uniforms.

I love that this planet is clearly the set of a Western. Or... Maybury. Or also Miri.

Not only did The 100 steal S3 from this episode, it also stole the Red Sun from it, didn’t it?

They keep saying they came for the festival and yet it is VERY clear they don’t know what the festival is. This disguise is not working.

It got dark damn fast. They’re outside, it’s almost 12--one would assume that’s 12 noon--and then they go inside, talk for about 3 minutes, go to another room, and it’s pitch black out!

Is this like The Purge? (I asked myself this while we were watching and--spoiler alert!--it is! The Purge was based, perhaps subconsciously, on this ep.)

Kirk looks very handsome in this ep. Like whoever directed it looks like he’s in love with him.

“Crewmen, here are your various assignments... Mr. Spock... come with me, somewhere private. To talk.”

Spock sleeping with his eyes open. (Meditating, my mom says.)

Oh look, it’s the secret police, in their brown robes.

Landru doesn’t seem too gentle lmao. “No dissent is allowed. You will be absorbed.” Randomly killing that guy who kinda said “maybe, uh, the festival...isn’t great??”

Kirk makes one comment about how everyone’s slow on the uptake here, and slow to respond to questions and denials, and Spock goes heart eyes. “Captain, how are you so smart and logical?”

“Fascinating, this is merely a hollow tube, Captain.” And uh I guess we’re never going to explain how that hollow tube kills people then?

They’re communing...

Love that Spock points out that the people are being communicated with through telepathy. Though... I remain sightly perplexed how the computer can do that. The next stage in Apple computing I guess.

Why isn’t Reger affected by all this? Like they imply that some people are spared the “festival” festivities because of their age, but that doesn’t seem to explain why he’s not “of the body.” Like being of the body isn’t a choice that people make, you’re ether absorbed or you’re not. They say later that he’s immune--but that in itself requires explanation. Like idk it seems a major plot hole that there can even be a resistance when the computer has controlled the society for thousands of years.

So I guess the backstory on the Archon ship is that they were all either absorbed or killed when they objected to the computer and its creepiness.

I do think the little hints that the society used to be way more advanced are intriguing.

“What should we do about this body that’s going to act as a tracking beacon right to us?” / “Uh, knock him out again.”

This planet is so peaceful.. no war or crime... except for people occasionally beating and raping each other nbd.

Was that Starfleet Officer really just going to shoot that projection? Not the best and the brightest being recruited nowadays I guess.

“The creature called Landru.”

“Enough analysis.” Spock always wants to talk through the whole backstory of the weird situations they’re in, while Kirk is a man of action!

Bones is really not being used to full capacity in this ep. He’s just kinda there in the background, until he’s absorbed.

Spock is very concerned about what will happen to the Captain, but also kind of... skeptical about this whole thing. For someone in control of his emotions he exhibits a lot of emotions imo.

“Happy communing!” Just gonna say this all the time now.

Time for another mind meld. So casual about it now.

Spock’s face during Kirk’s Landru-imitating speech is HILARIOUS. That eyebrow! The eye roll! I really think he’s amused by all of this.

He’s not very good at pretending to be absorbed. He sees Jim and he’s immediately like “Captain...!” all normal like.

“The peace of the factory, the tranquility of the machine.”

“You’re thinking the same thing I am. Mr. Spock... I love you.”

It’s pretty awesome that the same ep that introduces the Prime Directive also immediately finds Kirk forming loopholes in it. “We’re not supposed to interfere.... in living, growing cultures, which this isn’t! Moral conundrum solved.”

Spock actually straight up punched a man in the face lol.

Interesting that the communicators work like that--Spock is talking to the Enterprise on his, and Kirk just slides into the conversation on his device, without Spock abandoning his call. I think because they became cell phones irl that I think of them as cells but they’re not. It’s just weird to see them casually used in these totally bonkers ways.

Lol he returned them to a simpler, easier time. I guess you could say Landru made Beta III great again.

So Reger had second thoughts about actually destroying Supreme Leader once it got too real?

Interesting how Landru’s lair is so much more sci-fi-y in aesthetic than the town. Another hint of what the society used to look like.

Spock without the cloak. Damn son.

“We do not intend to die.” That’s a good attitude.

Revealing the Wizard behind the curtain...

“The whole society is a machine’s concept of perfection.”

A man programming himself into an all knowing machine that lives forever really does remind me of Becca and ALIE except with a 60s aesthetic--a large, physical computer rather than an AI.

“The good of the body is the Prime Directive.” Tbh I feel like what this whole ep is saying is that sometimes Prime Directives need to be bent if the reality of the situation doesn’t square with the spirit of the directive.

I love when Kirk destroys computers using Extreme Logic.

That should be a presidential debate question "What have you done to do justice to the full potential of every individual of the body?"

“Well, now that that’s done, we’re going to go. Have fun rebuilding your entire society from nothing. We’ll leave you a single sociologist to help out.”

So Mr. Sulu is back to normal, and he immediately returns to the bridge to give a little, goofy sitcom smile-and-shrug and kick some random extra outta his chair.

Why do they assume Landru was a good guy lol? I mean he solved their extreme violence problem but he instituted a plenty of other problems instead. Also he was clearly a megalomaniac.

This society’s backstory sounds an awful lot like pre-reform Vulcan. Maybe they should just send a Vulcan to teach them Surak’s ways.

Honestly they were left alone for like an hour and had a handful of fist fights. I think they really were a very violent people! Maybe destroying the dictator-computer was a bad idea!

I find it very odd that the whole festival thing was never actually explained. I guess it must have been a purge idea--that because they are so naturally violent and terrible aliens, they need to let off that steam in some way every now and again, and they do this through a “festival” of no-holds-barred violence. Still kinda wish they’d explicitly circled back on that in some way though.

I think the most interesting part of this episode was the planet’s back story. Kirk acts in the end as if they were basically human, but they’re not. Also, I got the impression that Landru convinced people to follow him first, and then only when he died, set himself up as an eternal God/Computer. So he must have been a very interesting, charismatic person. And that one of his ideas was to return to a “simpler time” in everything from dress to architecture, as if that had any real correlation with levels of violence is... fascinating. Was that the hook that he hung his reform on?

Overall, as I said, not a super strong S1 episode, but not bad at all. Next week is Space Seed, a classic episode that unfortunately was absolutely wrung dry by too many repeats over the course of the franchise. (...Yes I am referring specifically to STID obviously.) Still that shouldn’t take away from the brilliance of the original!

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon Black 2 Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 3]

With some interesting carnage leading us through it, the second badge has been earned. Better yet, we got a TM for a Special Poison move, so Caspet can now be a little more secure in her help.

Team as of the moment:

Stella (Poliwhirl)

Caspet (Gastly)

Okay then.

New routes please.

Hey me.

I have been invited to Pokestar Studios. It’s like Hollywood. Roxie’s dad ran off there to be a movie star. Roxie’s now running off there to talk him out of it. We’re going to run off there and have a terrible time with movies.

I don’t know why I remember the movie place. I think there was either some achievement or plot barrier there, and I hated the process but perfectionism insisted on trying again and... idk. Hopefully that distaste won’t be part of this run.

Can I please just be allowed to catch a third party member.

Is there any grass here. Please.

Stop dragging me to movies.

Stop dragging me to terrible movies.

Like there’s clearly some Emotions going on with Roxie’s father, but oh my gosh I do not play these games for becoming a movie star. ;-; Free me. ;-;

I have control of myself again, so I don’t know if I actually have to shoot a movie, but I feel like Roxie and her dad might require me to, and in any case, one won’t hurt too badly. I guess.

Wait, was it a medal thing? Is that why I made myself nuts over this?

Movie shot, script followed, yay, leaving.

Ahoy, plot!

Sequel Team Plasma is so very open about wanting to take over the world. How refreshing. They’ve gone from knights to pirates. Most excellent.

Pop Roxie is back to captaining, so it’s time to run off to Castelia and find another darn teammate.

And our first act of being in Castelia is a clown giving us a bicycle. Rocking.

A boat takes us to Liberty Garden. I think this is where Victini is if Victini is activated, but I’m not sure if that will be the case with this version. The important question is... does it also have other grass.

Fuckdamn it doesn’t.

Yay, entering random buildings in Castelia gave me an Exp. Share.

In keeping with me doing stupid things, I go to the Game Freak building and chat up some of the trainers who are not nearly as strong as they are post-game, thank goodness.

I really.

Really.

Would like.

More than two pokemon in my party.

I also finally gave in and talked to the medal guy in the Pokemon Center.

My achievement hunting tendencies are going to be the largest obstacle between me and any progress ever.

-whispers-

I want all of them.

Other conversations gave me an Eviolite, so that goes to Stella. ...Wait, no, Caspet. Uggggggh.

Burgh is missing from his Gym, which is fine, since I don’t think I’m ready for another round. I’m just walking around trying to check off whatever plot stuff I can that will let me catch something else.

Oh hey, I think talking to Iris opens up the sewers! I think that means I can catch something down there! !!!!

Pleeeeeease give me something.

Please, ominous guise of darkness.

Oh no.

Russell’s partnering with us, so. Uh. What’s the rule for this? I have to catch the first thing I see, but as long as I’m in a duo, I won’t be able to throw a ball very easily...

Fuuuuuuck.

Okay. We took out Panpour.

I have the ability to throw a ball, which means.

This is my catch option for the route.

Haaaa. And Russell’s Dewott is using Fury Cutter. Its damage will keep going up. I think I have two tries to catch it.

Yeehaw.

Try one is a bust.

Oh hey that’s neat! The Dewott used Razor Shell on Stella, because Stella has Water Absorb and had taken damage! That’s smarter than I expected from the partner AI.

And that means I can spare a turn or two trying to put Serperior to sleep. Since Stella still has Hypnosis.

Yo, it hit! And Dewott heals me again!

But. I need Serperior to be more damaged. I shouldn’t risk attacking. ...I’ll just keep throwing balls and wait for Dewott to hurt it a little more.

HECK YEAH WHO’S DA MAN.

Hot damn that was stressful.

Now I gotta give this girl a name.

Sylarana, wanna rock?

Also, now having Russell with me is a good thing, because this squad could use some levels.

What are you like, Syl?

She’s Careful and proud of her power.

Yeah, pride looks good on that sprite.

I don’t know what Serperior’s stats are with a neutral nature. That takes some stress off, since I’ll just go with the flow, but I prefer to know what I’m getting into, usually. Either way, Defense is stronger than Attack, and that’s just fine.

Female Nidoran are down here, too.

This is working out well enough. Yay for buddy healing. I almost don’t want it to ever end. It’s so convenient.

I shouldn’t do this forever, though. That would get boring fast.

My starter breathing. Also cool pirate outfits in Pokemon Go.

Mooks dispatched.

Gym Leader located!

Look at Burgh being all artsy with his tour of the sewers.

Huh, and Russell just hands us Strength. Because all our pals are true bros in this gen.

Then a dude with anime hair walks out of the hole in the wall.

YO NEW ROUTE.

‘ello there.

...I am possibly not going to be able to catch you due to lack of poke balls and you being remarkably stubborn.

Hey, there we go!

What to name you... what to name you... A magnificent sea serpent with a rainbow tail...

Nessy!

Without Russell healing us every fight, we can’t stick around. Back out of the sewers we go, to receive happy words from Iris. Well. Sort of happy words. She worries about Russell and tells us to challenge the Gym.

I, being a compliant sort, walk back into the sewers after healing.

Okay I guess it’s a cave. Sylarana out front, Nessy with Exp. Share while I contemplate what the heck this team does against a Bug Gym.

Ooooh, Forretress.

...

Is. is there anywhere I can go that can pave the way to me getting a Fire pokemon?

You know what, I don’t like things that blow themselves up at me. Guh, this is taking forever. I might need to buy a few Repels just so I can explore the cave properly... I believe there’s grass somewhere past the sewers, and if I could have a slightly more diverse team going into the next whatever, I’d like it.

Oh, and before I forget, Nessy!

She is Quirky and mischievous. She and Stella have half their personalities in common. Delightful. Marvel Scale is also a neat ability to have. Not one I can utilize properly because I’m a competitive failure, but still cool.

Neat, there’s Pidgeot down here.

Looks like there’s not much of the cave to explore at this point in the game. Ah well. Back to the sewers.

Hm. Would the desert north of Castelia be open to me yet? That could prove useful. Heck, is anywhere outside of this city open? I just need a little patch of grass somewhere new.

Bridge still being inspected.

A wild Bianca appears!

Dowsing Machine get!

Hello, this is new.

But there’s still spots of desert.

OH MY GOSH LOOK AT IT.

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.

Caught!

Your new name is Itsy, and you are much beloved!

Itsy is Modest and somewhat vain, and ouch that is not a nature I think I like for this little one, but adorableness beats everything, so we’re good.

Butterfree is also in the desert. Oooo Pawniard. Back to the sewers, though. Easier training fodder.

Grass located!

...And if I were a better trainer, I would go back and buy poke balls before exploring, but I have the impulse control of a toddler. Oh, and it’s dark grass vs. light grass...

Decision will be made by rapidly running between the two and seeing what triggers an encounter first.

Dark grass it is!

Aaaaaaaa fuck off.

I love Lapras so much. So so so so so so so so much. But I have two Water pokemon already, as well as an Ice one. I. can’t focus on catching the Lapras. It would be a bad idea.

You have never seen anyone so sad to encounter a Dratini during a Nuzlocke.

The wild Lapras fainted.

Oh fucking hell the Dratini knows Dragon Rage and both my pokemon are under 40 HP. Caspet’s turn on healing Caspet, Sylarana’s turn on getting her out of there.

Okay. Confused and slept.

Now I just. catch it. With four poke balls and two great balls left.

...Three poke balls, and guess who woke up.

Great ball. C’mon great ball.

..One great ball left.

Also if Dratini hurts itself in confusion one more time it is dead.

FORTUNE SMILES ON THE CRIMINALLY STUPID.

Now let’s run everyone back through the sewers and--

Did. did I really hit the no nickname option.

Ffs.

Okay, run back through the sewers, hit the Pokemon Center, and then name the critter. The Name Rater’s somewhere in the city, I think.

Heh. The guy in the alleyway still gives us Flash.

Congratulations, Puff! You are now eligible for activity!

Puff is Quiet and alert to sounds. An adorable addition to our squad. He’s going to be temporarily up front thanks to Dragon Rage. The Game Freak fights are once a day, and it’s been a day, so!

I believe in you, Puff!

Dragon Rage is so op this early. Dreamor agrees. But Puff’s ours, so that makes it okay.

Hm. I have six now. They could keep each other out of trouble.

There are so many areas in these sewers I can’t get to. Or maybe I can, it just involves more maze work than I’m expecting. ...Yeah, it’s looking like that side. Hey, a nurse guy! Yay for less walking up to the Pokemon Center.

Oh, and Poison... might be super effective against Bug? I think the whatsit thing he has is Bug/Grass, so that isn’t actually much of a confirmation. Eh, I’ll find out soon enough.

I’ve found a room full of Zweilous. That’s a safe grinding area, right? Itsy’s got Ice and everything. Vullaby and Dwebble are also here.

Heeeeeey, Caspet’s evolving!

And wants to learn another physical Ghost move.

Bye Lick.

Okay, Gym it is.

...Wow Burgh. Really went full Art on the place, huh? Did trainers complain that you were forcing them to walk through honey before letting them fight you?

Puff’s up first. I don’t have much type advantage here, so it’s just going to be hitting things until they break.

Burgh.

Hey Burgh.

This Gym is creepy.

The cocoons just suck you in and zoom you up. Only think Willy Wonka style.

Mooks have level 20s, so this should be a little uncomfortable for a few of the younger members, but Caspet, Stella, and Sylarana should be fine. For now, Puff’s still in front and Dragon Raging all the things.

And we’re going to the Pokemon Center after every fight, but hey. Baby steps in all things. Puff is on one of the slower exp tracks, so every little bit helps.

...Burgh. Buddy.

You want to talk?

This Gym feels like a cry for help.

In true shounen protagonist style, I will settle your troubled emotions through battle! Even if none of the dialogue will admit to how concerning the aesthetics of your chosen arena are!

Everything is hitting critical hits.

...Oh wait, I’m supposed to narrate these fights, aren’t I?

Uh. Swadloon down, Dwebble down, Leavanny left, Leavanny’s level 24. Caspet’s out to deal with it after Puff handled Swadloon and Nessy handled Dwebble.

Caspet one-shots it like a champ, and on we go.

Burgh, this trinket in no way makes me less concerned for you.

Still, though! Everyone’s alive, and we have a team full of six! Nice work, ladies and Puff. Five more badges to go! Let’s hope they go well!

[spectroamer]

SERVERTALE Chapter 17: Twice upon a time

Ne: We need to be ready. Slasher: Oh, come on. We fight those idiots almost every day. Do you really think that they will be a threat. Ne: Listen, Frisk is almost at the end of the Computerworld probably. When she starts activating the portal, it will send a beam up into the sky, which will attract unwanted attention. Amy: Are you saying that both Cobra and Ramirez will show up? Ne: Exactly. Slasher: Still. We can handle Cobra and I haven’t seen Ramirez fight once. He’ll probably be an easy target. Amy: I don’t think that he would be leading the sentinels if he was just another soldier. Ne: Not to mention that the elites are stronger than before. Slasher: Alright. Lets hear your plan. Ne: Firstly, we need to have a backup plan if someone gets taken down. We will be defending the portal on the mountain. If I get get beaten, you shall take my spot and let one of Kris’ soldiers take yours. You’ll need to stick to cover, since there will be a lot of enemy firepower. Engage Cobra from distance while he’s distracted and use the hook of you grapple to your advantage. Cobra’s weak spots are his hands, that’s where his armor is weakest. Amy will use the camera system to help you out. Amy: What if something happens to him? Ne: I’ll just have to defend his and mine stop at the same time. Slasher: You might be fast, but you’re definitely not that fast. Ne: I know, but that’s the best we’ve got. We have dozens of soldiers while they have hundreds, remember? Slasher: You got a point there. Ne: I will keep Ramirez and Cobra distracted while you take out their soldiers. Bring any firepower necessary, the whole place will probably be a warzone. Slasher: I like the sound of that. Ne and Amy look at him surprised. Slasher: I mean the guns part. Warzone is bad. Ne: I’ll help you out when possible, but You’re gonna have to do most of the work. If I say to fall back, I’ll create a shield that will provide you cover. Plan A is aggressive defense. Plan B is moving behind cover and fighting from there. Plan C is any means necessary and we move back all the way to the portal. Hopefully we won’t need a plan to replace C. Understood? Amy: Crystal clear.  Slasher: I’m gonna go check on my weaponry. Slasher exits the house. Amy: Are you really sure about this. Ne: To be honest, no, I’m not, but this is the only chance we have. You can’t fight, and I’m not sure how much can we rely on Kris’ squad. Amy: Why? Ne: They work within the law, which means that they still answer to normal authority, which can be easily bought. Amy: I see your point. Ne: Basically, it is up to me and Slasher to secure the portal. Amy: Is it really okay for me to stay here? I mean, I’m kinda using your house and food here. Ne: Of course it is. I don’t need food and I like having you around. Amy: Good to know. Ne: Are you feeling better by the way? Amy: Well, I am tired, but I generally feel better. Ne: You should sleep. Resting will restore your energy better than I can. Amy: Alright.  Ne gets up and starts to walk away but Amy grabs his hand. Amy: Uhhh, could you maybe... stay here? It feels awkward for me to sleep here if you’re not here. Ne: Well... I’ll stay if you want me to. Amy: Yeah, I’d like that. Ne takes off his helmet and places it on the floor, before sitting back on the couch next to her. Ne: Ok. Then, I’ll stay right here. Amy: Thank you... for taking care of me. Ne: Any time. Frisk is walking through the final room of the core. Chara: We’re almost there. Asgore’s throne room isn’t too far now. Suddenly, a shadow nears Frisk. She looks back, only to see a purple cloak, without anyone inside it. Chara: Riverperson? What are they doing here? Riverperson: Tra la la... The human reaches the throne, but the risks have only grown. Frisk: What do you mean? Riverperson: What your new friends said is not true. Lied, or uninformed, it does not matter. They say that for the piece or King has will. But he will not hesitate to kill. Frisk: But everyone said that he is friendly. I don’t want to fight anymore! Riverperson turns around. Riverperson: Be careful when your next move you choose. Your life we do not want to lose. Tra la la... Before Frisk had the chance to ask any more questions, the mysterious cloak already floated away. Frisk: Who... Who was that? Chara: Riverperson is the transporter for monsters. They own a magic half boat, half cat. No one really knows what they are. Frisk: Can we trust them? Chara: While no one knows a lot about them, there are two facts known to everyone: They know everything and if they wanted you dead... Well, we wouldn’t have been talking now. Frisk: Oh... So I will have to fight Asgore. Chara: Come on, we can’t stay here for too long. Frisk: But what will happen now? Chara: Only time will tell. Lets move. Frisk goes in the elevator and selects the next floor. As she walks out of the elevator when it reaches the location, she is amazed by the next room. It is completely white, and behind a window, the hole city of monsters can be seen, homes and roads made out of black metal and blue light shining everywhere. The black sky is brightened by the lights of the endless city. She wishes that she could just stay here and enjoy the view. When she thinks about it, staying in the Computerworld wouldn’t be bad at all. She already made some friends, and she is sure that with the help of Sans and Mettaton, others would start to like her as well. But she knows that she can’t be selfish. She got here for monsters and Chara, and she plans to get them out. Chara: Are you alright? Frisk: Just enjoying the view. While I can Frisk reaches a house that looks exactly the same to Toriel’s... Ignoring that this one is in way much better condition. Chara: This was our... this was their home when things were better. Frisk goes into the living room. Chara: We would eat on that table and Toriel would read us her books later on at that chair. Suddenly, froggits appear in front of Frisk. She gets in a battle stance, but they don’t attack. Instead, they start talking. “A long time ago, a human fell into the ruins.” “Injured by its fall, the human called out for help.” Chara: That’s... they are talking about me. The froggits go away, letting Frisk continue exploring the house. She goes into the kitchen. After checking the kitchen, she finds a key and takes it. As she passes through the living room again, whimsuns fly in and continue the story. “Asriel, the king’s son, heard the human’s call.”   “He brought the human back to the castle.” Chara: Heh, I remember how he offered his help without hesitation. Frisk goes through the hallway and enters the room in which Asriel and Chara lived in. She finds two presents, neatly rapped in boxes with ribbons. Chara: Open the first present. Frisk opens the box and sees a heart shaped locket inside. Chara: Take it. Frisk reads the small writing on the locket. Best Friends Forever Frisk: Chara, I can’t wear this. It was your present. Chara: But I want you to wear it. Please, he would have liked you more anyway.  Frisk: Fine, but only for you. Frisk puts on the locket and exits the room, leaving the other gift behind. As she keeps walking through the hallway, she encounters a row of moldsmals “Over time, Asriel and the human became like siblings.” Chara: How silly I was, hoping that I would get him to meet you one day. “The King and Queen treated the human child as their own.” “The underground was full of hope.” Chara: Until I took it away from them. Frisk keeps on walking. Frisk: It was not your fault. Chara: You didn’t hear the full story yet. I became greedy... Reckless. Frisk walks in front of a mirror. Chara: But look at you. Despite everything, it’s still you. The same caring, peaceful, kind Frisk I’ve met years ago. Frisk blushes softly. Frisk: It’s hard. Chara: I know. Frisk takes another key and starts walking back. She unlocks the chain and goes downstairs. Two migosps appear. “Then... One day...” “The human became very ill” Chara’s voice becomes a little shaky. Chara: They all cared about me so much. After them, three vegetoids wait for Frisk to come closer. “The sick human had only one request.” “To see their friend on the surface” Frisk: Me? Chara: I was so persistent. “But there was nothing we could do.�� As Frisk passes the vegetoids, two loox appear. “The next day.” “The next day.” “...” “The human died.” Chara stays quiet. Frisk walks into two snowdrakes. “Asriel, wracked with grief, absorbs the human’s soul.” “He transformed into a being with incredible power.” Frisk goes around the snowdrakes and sees icecaps ahead. “With the human soul, Asriel crossed through the barrier.” “He carried the human’s body into the sunset.” “Back to the city of the humans.” Chara: We... we were so close. Three woshuas wait behind a corner. “Asriel reached the entrance to the city.” “He knew that he was getting closer to the human’s friend.” “He kept carrying the human.” Behind the woshuas, shyrens await. “Suddenly, a loud noise rang out.” “Two powerful wizards saw Asriel holding the human’s body.” “They thought that he had killed the child.” Three dummies peacefully stand behind the shyrens. “The humans attacked him with everything they had.” “He was struck with blow after blow.” “Asriel had the power to fight them.” Madjick and Knight knight stand together, continuing the story. “But...” “Asriel did not fight back.” “Clutching the human...” “Asriel walked away.” For the first time, Frisk finds a weird type of froggits, which are more armored than the original ones. “Wounded, Asriel stumbled home.” “He entered the castle and collapsed.” “His dust spread across the garden.” This was the breaking point for Chara, as she sobs softly. Armored whimsuns approach. “The kingdom fell into despair.”  “The king and queen had lost two children in one night.” “The humans had once again taken everything from us. Chara: It was me! I-I d-did this to t-t-them. Frisk becomes overwhelmed, by Chara’s sadness and the story itself. Three Astigmatisms hover nearby. “The king decided it was time to end our suffering.” “Every human who falls down here must die.” “With enough souls, we can shatter the barrier forever.” When Frisk passes them, she notices moldsmall, loox and migosp standing together. “It’s not long now.” “King Asgore will let us go.” “King Asgore will give us hope.” “King Asgore will save us all.” Pyrope and to vulkins wait behind. “You should be smiling, too.” “Aren’t you excited?” “Aren’t you happy?” One last froggit appears, and before he hops away, he says one sentence that completely breaks Chara. You’re going to be free. Chara starts crying, not being able to continue. Frisk sits down. Frisk: We don’t have to continue right away. Lets take a break. We could both use it. Frisk and Chara sit in silence for a few minutes, before they start going again. They reach the next room. It is completely made out of blue metals, shining and bouncing light everywhere. The windows have the Delta Rune symbol on them. Even with all the light, a figure far up ahead is still dark. Frisk uses a savepoint, before approaching the figure. As she gets closer, she realizes that it is Sans. Bells ring out through the room. Sans starts talking, but in a completely different voice. Sans: So you finally made it. The end of your journey is at hand. In a few moments,you will meet the king. Together... You will determine the future of this world. That’s then. Now. You will... you will... ah, forget it. Sans’ voice returns back to normal. Sans: listen, kid. i was supposed to judge you, but you two have already passed through enough already.  you were amazing. you didn’t hurt a single monster. you avoided getting love and exp. Frisk: But weren’t those supposed to make me more powerful? Sans: power helps to live, but it also destroys. love and exp are acronyms. they stand for level of violence and execution points. Frisk: Oh... Sans: yeah. good thing you dodged that. Frisk: But what do I do Sans? Sans: what? Frisk: I don’t ant to kill Asgore... But I don’t want to die either.  Sans: you can always not fight him and stay here with us. i know that we don’t have much, but you would be safe. Sans reminds Frisk of her fight with Toriel, only bringing back more painful memories. Frisk: I have to pass through Asgore if I want to break the barrier. Sans: you’re right. that only leaves one option. Sans sighs, tiredly. Sans: i can’t believe i’m doing this. Frisk: Doing what? Sans: I’m about to betray the whole kingdom. Frisk: What?! Chara is equally surprised. Sans: Come on. I’m gonna try to talk Asgore out from fighting you. Frisk: Are you sure you want to do this? Sans: You did so much for us already. This is the least I can do for you. Sans and Frisk start walking to the next room. Chara: I can’t believe that he’s actually going to do this. Sans: i said that i was going to protect you. Chara: Wait, you can hear me? Sans: and see you. Frisk: You have so much explaining to do if we get through this, Sans: a skeleton never reveals his secrets. Chara: Pfft, is that a rule or something? Sans: well, actually, all of the previous members of the font family had a lot of secrets. no wonder that only a few of us are left. Frisk, Sans and CHara reach the end of the corridor. Sans: this is it. remember, stay determined. All of them enter the throne room. They see Asgore watering flowers. Asgore hears them approaching.  Asgore: Dum dee dum... Oh? Is someone there? Just a moment! I have almost finished watering these flowers. Chara: He always loved doing that. Asgore: ...Here we are! Asgore slowly turns around and sees Frisk and Sans, standing in front of him. Shocked, he takes a step back. Asgore: Oh. Sans: heya asgore. Asgore: Sans? Did you escort the human all the way here? Sans: nah, she got here on her own, i just now found her. Asgore: I so badly want to say, “would you like a cup of tea?”. But... you know how it is. Sans: actually, about that... Asgore: Yes? Sans: i think... you shouldn’t fight the human. Asgore: What? Sans: she’s harmless. Asgore: Sans... You do understand that the human has the last soul needed for us to be free? Sans: i will find a different way.  Asgore: Why do you want to protect that human so much? Sans: don’t you see? i watched her whole journey. she didn’t hurt anyone, and judging by her skills, she could have easily defeated most of the underground if she wanted to. Asgore: Peaceful, or not, there is a law against humans. Sans: well, i guess you’re just gonna have to change it. Asgore creates his red trident. Asgore: Protecting a human is treason, Sans. Please... Do not make me fight you. Sans creates his bone staff and defensively holds it in front of Frisk. Sans: if that’s what it takes, than that’s what i’m gonna do. Asgore: In that case, goodbye, my old friend. Asgore raises his trident, ready to attack. Sans holds on to his staff, while making sure that Frisk is behind him. Suddenly, small bullets circle Asgore and they all hit him, knocking him down. Chara: NO! Sans: asgore! Sans drops his bone staff and runs to him. Before he even has the chance to check Asgore’s soul, Asgore’s body already turns to dust. One final bullet flies in, breaking Asgore’s soul into pieces. Chara is completely frozen, not knowing what to do. Sans: that... wasn’t me. Frisk quickly looks around, full of fear, trying to find the attacker. Flowey suddenly pops out of the ground, scaring Frisk. Sans: flowey. Flowey: You idiots. You haven’t learned a thing... All the souls the monsters have gathered so far start circling Flowey. Flowey: In this world... It’s KILL or BE killed Flowey’s face melts as he absorbs the souls. Everything starts falling apart. The Computerworld is breaking as it becomes darker, more glitched than before. Sans: i got this, just gimme a second. Sans opens the console and starts messing with the code. He quickly eliminates the viruses Flowey was trying to use to tear the Computerworld apart. Sans: ok, i’ve managed to stabilize the computerworld, but he still has the control.  Darkness is everywhere. Suddenly, bright lights turn on, showing a picture with a monster resembling a loox and a human from older times with text. Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS One day... The picture suddenly glitches out, deforming the monster and the human they all disappeared without a trace. Everything is gone gain. Sans summons Frisk’s soul and uses her console. Flowey     LV 9999     9999:99 My World    Continue     Restart Frisk finally breaks the silence with a shaky voice Frisk: What’s going on? Sans: he has the control. he has the save... he has everything. Frisk: You sounded like you knew him. Did you fight him before? If so, you know how to beat him, right? Sans: i fought him countless times, but never like this. he is more powerful now than he has ever been. Chara: What do we do now? Sans: the only thing we can. fight for this world. Sans selects continue. Suddenly, a save star appears in the distance. Frisk slowly walks to it, while Sans watches her surroundings, being really careful, since the only light sources in the area are his and Frisk’s suits, the star and her glow stick. Frisk attempts to use the save star. As the console opens, it starts glitching, before it completely crashes. Behind it, Flowey’s huge face lights up on a screen. Flowey: Howdy! It’s me, Flowey. Flowey the flower! I owe you a huge thanks. You really distracted that old fool. Without you, I never could have gotten such an easy shot. But now, with your help... He’s dead. And I’ve got the humans souls. The screen turns off, before turning back on seconds after. Flowey: Boy! I’ve been empty for so long... It feels great to have a soul inside me again... Mmmm, I can feel them wriggling... Aww, you’re feeling left out, aren’t you? Well, that’s just perfect. After all, I only have six souls. I still need one more... Before I become god. And then, with my newfound powers... Monsters. Humans. Everyone. I’ll show them all the real meaning of this world. Sans opens Frisk’s console to check the older save file, but doesn’t find anything. Flowey: Oh, and forget about escaping to your old save file. It’s gone forever. But don’t worry.  Your old friend Flowey... Has worked out a replacement for you! I’ll save over your own death. So you can watch me tear you to bloody pieces... Over, and over, and over... Sans steps in front of Frisk. Sans: do you really think i’m gonna let that happen? Flowey: ...What? Do you really think you can stop me? Hee hee hee... You really are an idiot, trashbag. All of the souls are summoned in a circle, while a huge beast starts approaching, radiating a blood red light across the area. As it gets closer, its disgusting body gets visible, standing tall, made out of plantlike body mass and metal armor everywhere, a flat screen instead of a head and bellow it a four eyed creature with a sideways mouth. On the screen, his intimidating face shows up and he starts laughing like a maniac. Omega Flowey attacks. He starts shooting out razor sharp blades out of the eyes. Sans blocks all of the blades with his staff, while Frisk stays behind him. Two flamethrowers on top of his pipes activate. Frisk and Sans jump back, avoiding the fire. Some of Flowey’s vines rush forward. Sans moves aside, pulling Frisk with him. Frisk gets an idea. She takes her phone and uses the blaster to fire a shot at Flowey. If there was any damage, than it was way too small to be visible. One of the tubes around the eyes lights up in cyan, as Flowey uses one of the souls for more powerful attacks. He summons giant knives circling around Frisk and Sans. They carefully move between the knives, until the soul breaks free and turns the knives into healing magic. Flowey creates multiple bombs in the air, which start falling down. Sans quickly fires a barrage of bones, destroying the bombs. Flowey uses the next soul, creating huge hands which he uses in an attempt to crush his opponents. Sans keeps opening portals and guiding Frisk to the other side. Soon, Flowey looses control over the soul and it gets free. Flowey stabs one of his arms into the ground, while his vines shoot forward to Frisk and Sans. While Sans is busy blocking the attacks from front, the underground arm sends vines to dig up behind them. As the vines reach the surface and rush towards Sans and Frisk, they are stopped when a blue sword cuts them multiple times. Surprised by the sound, Sans and Frisk quickly look back, to see Papyrus. Sans: papyrus?! what are you doing here? Papyrus and Sans keep talking while they block attacks from Flowey. Papyrus: THE HUMAN AND I WERE SUPPOSED TO VISIT UNDYNE, BUT SHE NEVER SHOVED UP. I WENT TO LOOK FOR HER AND SAW YOU FIGHTING THIS THING. SANS, WHAT IS GOING ON? Sans: we’re trying to save the world. i’ll protect the kid, you take care of the abomination. Another soul starts glowing. Papyrus shoots up a long bone from the ground bellow him, lifting himself up all the way to Flowey’s height. From that level of height, Papyrus sees the full room. A strange light fills the room. Twilight is shining through the barrier. It seems The battle has just started. As Frisk sees the skeleton brothers protecting her, she is filled with determination. Sans takes care of blocking Flowey’s attacks, and Papyrus leaps from the bone with his sword, landing on the activated tube and stabs his sword in it, freeing the soul early. He continues to swiftly drop down, his landing cracking the floor below him. Flowey sends a bunch of pellets on Sans and Frisk, while he tries to crush Papyrus with his arm. Sans’ eyesockets go dark and in his left eyesocket, an incomplete blue circle of energy lights up, as he blocks all of the pellets with speed to fast to track. As he stops moving, his eyesockets go back to normal. Papyrus jumps out of the way of Flowey’s attack and uses the chance to cut the now trapped arm. One of the pellets breaks apart into more tiny pieces, cutting Papyrus. Flowey uses another soul. While Sans makes sure Frisk isn’t gonna get hit, Papyrus jumps on the grounded arm and runs all the way up to the soul tube and cuts it open, making all of the attacks disappear. Flowey tries to bring them off their balance, by resetting a few seconds back, but Frisk and Sans remember what’s going to happen next, while Papyrus can’t be attacked in his current position. Papyrus jumps down, exposing himself to Flowey’s attacks. Flowey tries to hit him, but papyrus blocks all of the attacks. Sans and Frisk use that moment to open fire on Flowey, noticeably damaging his screen. Flowey turns his attention to Sans and Frisk again and launches more blades at them. Both Sans and Papyrus raise a wall of bones from the ground, effectively blocking most of them. One blade gets through and grazes Frisk’s shoulder. Sans looks back at her worried, but even tho her shoulder is bleeding, she stays focused. Flowey uses the next soul. Huge fireballs start falling from above. Sans’ special eye lights up again when he creates a huge portal that leads to a few meters above Flowey. All of the fireballs fall on him, slightly burning him. Sans then summons Papyrus’ soul and turns it blue. Sans: paps! get ready to land! Sans changes the gravitational pull of papyrus’ soul, making him fall into the portal, which leads him to the top of Flowey. Papyrus makes a soft landing, before jumping down on the tube and breaking it, and then falling all the way down to ground level. Flowey throws more bombs, but All three of them shoot the bombs. After more attacks, Flowey finally uses the last soul, creating a handgun. He fires the weapon and huge bullets start flying towards Sans and Frisk. Sans quickly turns Frisk’ soul blue and pushes her aside, while he uses his staff to launch himself over the bullets. Papyrus uses the bullets as platforms, jumping from one to the other all the way to the last soul tube. Papyrus jumps next to it, cutting it in the air and falling back down. Flowey looses control over the last soul. All of the last souls start circling around Sans, Frisk and Papyrus, before healing all of their injuries. All of the magic armor the souls were giving Flowey disappeared, leaving him without defense. Flowey starts randomly using all of the attacks, while his opponents start attacking together. Papyrus uses his sword to cut off any nearby part of Flowey, Sans keeps creating bones and firing them off at Flowey and Frisk uses her phone blaster. Flowey knows that all of them are using their maximum potential for fighting techniques, so  he does the same thing. Combining his attacks, Flowey sends bombs, pellets, blades and vines flying everywhere. While Sans might not be able to do much damage to Flowey, He is more than able to perfectly block all of Flowey’s attacks. After some time of defending and attacking, they finally overcharge Flowey. Flowey: No... NO! This can’t be happening!! You... You... Flowey loads his save file all the way to the beginning of the battle. Flowey: You idiots. Flowey’s mouth suddenly opens, firing off a beam of energy so fast that neither Sans or Frisk had time to react, disintegrating both of them. Not a second after their death, Flowey loads the file again and impales them. He keeps loading the file and using those same two attacks. He circles them both tightly with his pellets, not giving Sans enough room to create a portal. Flowey: He hee hee. Did you really think... You could defeat me!? I am the god of this world. Chara: Sans, what do we do? Sans: i... i don’t know. i don’t think there’s a way out of this one. Frisk: There has to be! Flowey: You’re hopeless. Not even your worthless friend can save you now.  Call for help. I dare you. Cry into the darkness! See what good it doe you! Frisk takes a deep breath and focuses. She lifts her soul into the air and it brightly shines, calling out the other souls. Nothing happens. Flowey: Boy! What a shame. Nobody else is going to see you two die! The pellets slowly start to get close, before they disappear. Frisk looks questionably at Sans. Sans: That wasn’t me. Chara: Not me either. Flowey: What? How’d you...? Well, I’ll just- Console with the save file opens up. A row of numbers is written all over it. 01001100 01001111 01000001 01000100 00100000 01000110 01000001 01001001 01001100 01000101 01000100  Flowey: Wh... Where are my powers!? The souls answer Frisk’s call and burst from the tubes. Flowey: The souls...? What are they doing? Sans: i guess you could say... they had a change of heart. The souls start attacking Flowey, slowly taking him apart.  Flowey screams in fear as he tries to force the souls, but they don’t listen. The souls destroy his omega form, leaving him in his flower body, cut and burned. Frisk aims her phone blaster at Flowey for a few seconds, but when she sees that he is too weak to do anything, she lowers the phone, sparing him. Sans created one sharp bone, prepared to stab the broken flower, but Frisk stops him. Frisk: Don’t be like him. Flowey weakly speaks. Flowey: What are you doing? Do you really think I’ve learned anything from this? No. Frisk: Maybe not now... but you might soon. Flowey: Sparing me won’t change anything. Frisk: Neither will killing you. Flowey: Killing me is the only way to end this. Frisk: I’ll make a new way. Flowey: If you let me live... I’ll come back.  Sans: we’ll be ready. Flowey: I’ll kill you. Frisk: You won’t. Flowey: I’ll kill everyone. I’ll kill everyone you love. Frisk: I’m not gonna change my mind Flowey. Sans: sorry, looks like it’s your lucky day, because i trust her. and if she says there’s hope for you, you’re gonna live for now. Flowey looses his smile. Frisk and Sans’ mercy is only rubbing their victory further in his face. Flowey: ...Why? ... Why are you being... so nice to me? Frisk: I believe you can do better. Flowey: I can’t understand. I can’t understand! I just can’t understand... Flowey burrows into the ground and escapes. Chara: What happens now? Dad is dead and we lost the souls. There’s nothing left. Sans: well, not entirely. Frisk: What do you mean? Sans: That power Flowey used to turn back time. you have it as well. now, normally, i really wouldn’t like this, but it’s the only chance we have. Chara: What are you saying? Sans: you need to reset all the way back to the entrance of the throne room. as much as i remember, papyrus said that you should have met undyne with him. if you would get her to like you, maybe we can convince asgore to spare you. i mean, me and papyrus already have your back, but we need more support. i suggest we gather everyone. me as a judge, undyne as the captain of the royal guard, papyrus as the second captain, alphys as the royal scientist, mettaton as the celebrity and toriel as the queen. if we all protest asgore’s decision, he won’t be able to deny us, without us, he has nothing. Frisk: It’s worth a shot. Chara: Not like we can do anything else. Sans: alright, we’ll go with that. but remember, me and papyrus will have no memories of this ever happening, so you’ll have to remind me. i might not believe you, so just in case, use the codeword “seventeen”. got it? Frisk: Yes, I’m ready. Sans: ok, i’ll guide you through. Sans opens her console and finds the save file. he selects it. Sans: ready? Frisk: Yes. Sans: remember, we’re all counting on you kid. stay determined and have fun jumping through time. Sans presses the load button. 01001100 01001111 01000001 01000100 00100000 01010011 01010101 01000011 01000011 01000101 01010011 01010011 01000110 01010101 01001100  Prologue Chapter 16 Chapter 18

[narcisskanotfrisk]

BeyondFell: Part 11(updated)

She continued to advance, encountering a few monsters that did not cause her more problems than that to dodge, the flames of Toriel having dragged her on any type of attack. Feeling somewhat exhausted, she rested against a mysterious bench placed there. It was a little cold, but it seemed that these notches also had their advantages. She looked around and detected another grossly hidden trap from afar, then she looked around. Everything was so beautiful ... The trees strewn with snow, the ground hidden by this white coat, and that under a mountain? Who would have thought that mother nature would create such a place underground? Frisk sighed and looked at the ceiling rising several kilometers above her: why would she want to leave this sumptuous place? The human world had been a nightmare for her. Her eyelids grew heavy on these dark thoughts, she was human and needed rest. Chara watched her doze quietly on the bench in the middle of the hostile environment. She sighed when she saw Frisk's carefree attitude. Hadn't she learned anything about the monsters as the flowers had grown on her? Since the creation of the barrier that keeps them in the Underground, the monsters have become cruel even to each other ... I only lived here for a few months but now that my memories are back, I feel like to have aged a century. If at least I could help her even a little ... I am unfortunately only a ghost without influence, awakened again in this world by this girl ... Why now? Rest is no longer available to me, but there must be a reason. Suddenly, a monster resembling a humanized owl and with a snowflake head stealthily approached the sleeping human. His stealthy approach didn't wake up Frisk, who was so well asleep. Chara also noticed the monster and silently observed the one who dared to approach Frisk. Seeing that the human was not reacting, he smirked before launching sharp magic attacks in the shape of a boomerang. Only one of the attacks touched her, literally cutting her in half, spraying the ground under the bank of blood, while half of her body fell into the flushed snow. The reset was not done instantly, there was a lag time probably caused by the death of Frisk during her sleep. Chara then saw something strange: the monster who had laughed until now at the death of the human had just been pierced by several sharp bones. His gaze went to a tree before it turned to dust. Chara then went to the tree in question and missed a heartbeat ... Finally if she had been still alive. The silhouette hidden under the branches was none other than that of Sans. He had killed Frisk's murderer but ... why now? It was already too late before he did that. What reason could he have had for doing this? Chara did not have time to ask all these questions: the world was absorbed, and everything went black. Frisk was again whole, lying on the ground in front of the Resets panel. Chara looked at her, the innocence of the unconscious was here pure, even making Chara blush despite the distance that separated her from her. If at least something could reassure her, it was that Frisk could not have felt the pain, her state of torpor had, so to speak, saved her from this death. Chara no longer needing to watch her began to think in a corner. Frisk did not get up until a long time later ... Noticing that she was no longer on a bench in front of a snowy landscape, she sighed but resumed her generous smile just after. She had more than taken advantage of her rest, and that's why she died ... At least that's what she assumed. She pressed continue, reappearing just a little before she hit Papyrus, not paying enough attention. She then proceeded cautiously, quickly returning to the place of their meeting. As soon as she saw Papyrus, she made a small pile of snow behind which she lay down so as not to be noticed. Followed by Sans, Papyrus hastily observed the surroundings then left without a word. Sans, meanwhile, stayed a little longer and even allowed himself to speak to her. "Finally you opted for white ... It is true that green does not suit you very well. Simple question of greenery, you are perhaps more than a white-beak ... mouahahahahah » Frisk could no longer refrain and began to giggle behind her blanket, thereby canceling its effect. By the time she got up Sans had already teleported elsewhere ... She could see the friendly smile he had displayed when she laughed at his jokes. Walking quietly on the same path as the last time, she noticed that some of the traps had been moved, however still as roughly as usual. She dodged without much difficulty and ended up again reaching the bench where she had rested. She dusted the snow that had fallen on it before continuing its path ever deeper into the forest. It ends up reaching a ravine where only a rather long bridge allowed the passage on the other side. Carefree, she ventured onto the bridge under the gaze of her ghostly observer who really wondered why she had been brought back for Frisk ... After crossing three quarters of the bridge she heard noise on the other side. Unfortunately, on deck, she was vulnerable, unable to hide anywhere. The noise she heard was nothing but a voice. Belonging to Sans's brother, the voice grew louder until it became a visible silhouette on the other side of the bridge. When he finally saw Frisk, his expression came closer to that of the other monsters who had killed him ... Still that sly smile adorning their faces. "HUMAN HALT! I AM THE MONSTER WHO WILL GIVE YOUR SOUL TO KING! THEN, TRY TO SURVIVE MY DEATH BRIDGE! NYAHAHAHAHAH » Papyrus was not wearing his usual armor, he was dressed in a leather jacket instead of his breastplate and black pants with holes at the kneecaps, the rest being the same as when they first met. He pulled out of his jacket a remote control, a single big red button was on it. When he pressed it, several deadly machines appeared by the side of the mountain. Frisk had to make a decision quickly as robotic arms armed with chainsaws, crossbows and even one with a flame thrower approached her. Her thoughts poured into her brain, she had to do something and surely not stand still while waiting for another excruciating death. She then started running towards the end of the bridge, she arrived at five meters! No more than four! Three! She was almost reaching her escape route when she felt the bridge slip under her feet. The machines, having already cut short his thoughts, had just cut the bridge in two. Frisk grabbed one of the ropes that once held this wooden bridge, preparing for the impact against the rather rough wall. Nevertheless she managed to keep her grip and held back as best she could so as not to fall into the unfathomable depths of this chasm. She heard Papyrus give a low, hoarse laugh as the arms were pulled back into the mountain again as if nothing had happened. "HERE NYAHAHAHAHAH WE ONLY HAVE TO RECOVER ITS SOUL AT THE BOTTOM OF THE MOUNTAIN! I AM A GENIUS ! NO MORE PERSON CAN DOUBT MY MONSTRUOSITY! " He ran towards the path, descending down the ravine, proud of his overwhelming victory over the human. Frisk, on the other hand, held on as best she could, but her hands began to get sweaty, slipping as the rope went on. She tried to go back up but there was no catch within reach until she let go ... She closed her eyes, expecting a painful fall. Time seemed to be forever, then she felt the ground under her feet, but ... not as quickly as it should have ... She allowed herself to open her eyes, seeing her savior with her two orbits illuminated with white dots: Sans . He had saved her from certain death by lifting her up in the air and resting her on the ground. Frisk, looking at him, gave him a sincere smile to which, for the first time, he replied with a scintillating smile of kindness ... "Finally the '' string '' of fate did not cut for you ... You have several strings to your bow do not forget it ... well ... we should tie up for the rest .. " Frisk approached him, smiling at his misplaced jokes while Chara seemed tired of it. She looked at him intently and an unknown feeling arose in her. Something strong, powerful but at the same time mysterious. She began to blush for no reason and to lower her gaze. Sans didn't really understand why she was doing this ... Neither did she. But she knew soon enough that the new feeling which traversed her body was none other than what is called love. She looked up at Sans. "Thank you for saving me ... You could have let me die like the other times. But you didn't do it. You may be a monster, but I feel that there is a heart beating in you ... As for us, human beings. I sincerely thank you. " "So you knew about the dead? ... (he ran his hand behind his skull as a sign of embarrassment)" "Yes (she chuckled before pulling herself together), it was more than easy to guess. " "... I see ... We shouldn't stay here, my brother will end up going back ..." He was interrupted by the shadow of Papyrus, coming to land on him. He turned to him, as Frisk's expression suddenly changed: she, who still seemed confident, looked frightened at Papyrus' piercing sockets. He took a step, placing himself next to Sans and looking at the human like a child would look at a candy in its packaging. "BRAVO SANS!" YOU FIND IT! NOW FINISH IT WITH HER! " Sans looked at his brother, now showing only his red eye in an orbit. He started with the order his brother had just given him ...

[judeonthemove]

Chickens Stole My Baño

Selected playlist for the full immersive experience, courtesy of the bridge of the Eduardo II. To be played on repeat, daily, forever:

Rod Stewart – Young Turks, Baby Jane

REM – Losing My Religion

Dire Straights – The Walk of Life

Blondie – Call Me

Luz Yenny de Los Andes or similar

Domingo/Sunday – Pucallpa (still)

The chickens are coming mañana, tomorrow, before we leave. Allegedly.

Yesterday morning (nice and early because on Friday they’d said they were due to leave at eleven on Saturday) we came down to the Eduardo II to talk money. Friday's chalkboard that proudly declared the departure as ‘Hoy, sin falta' or ‘Today, without fail', was up again. According to a man who looked like he might know, the departure time had moved to five-thirty in the afternoon though. We’d hoped for a cabin with our own shower and loo but no such thing existed. The baño facilities were down the other end of the deck, past the washing machines, mattresses, a three-piece suite, and sacks of wood chips. A dark metal hole, with seatless toilet and a piece of pipe for a shower, both running off the same brownish water supply, using shut-off handles. Simple, effective, potentially disease-ridden, plumbing. Nails driven into a length of cobwebby rough timber acted as towel hooks, helpfully placed directly above the lidless bin for used loo roll. South American plumbing can't manage paper so a bin is always present, but playing Russian roulette with your clean clothes isn't usually a factor. Our luxurious cabin on the upper deck exuded industrial chic: seven foot by six, in mildewed white and blue steel, with welded L-profile steel lengths and timber slats for bunks. Fixed steel vents gave some air but no view. Foam covered in badly pilled pink nylon, and an empty, exposed-wires light fitting completed the look. Fairly dire but manageable, and above all private and secure.

We did a little deal, bought our tickets, and were issued with our padlock key. Unexpectedly, the man in charge of housekeeping appeared with brand new pillows and synthetic but pristine sheets. He deftly made up the bunks and immediately it looked more homely. We headed off to grab some breakfast and corral our belongings and when we came back he'd managed to procure us a lightbulb (thank you phrasebook!). The deck below was filling fast with families and hammocks, and the hive of loading activity was ongoing. We scooted off out again to bulk buy water. An unknown number of days aboard a floating oven is no time to get dehydrated. There was a fair bit of staring being done by then. We were the only non-Peruvians aboard, and possibly the only non-crew in a cabin at that stage. The curious took strolls to the upper deck to have a nosey at us and ask where we were going. On the shore we’d passed two pale-skinned men in Mennonite garb: black dungarees and work boots, crisp shirts and straw hats. More similarly dressed men, and women in bonnets and modest puffed sleeve dresses, stood directing the loading of a hefty quantity of corrugated metal panels onto the next boat. Were they actually planning to raise a barn!? I really hoped so. We were quickly not the most stare-worthy folk around.

Remarkably, given the trash that was being flung into it, the river didn't smell bad. A fresh, green smelling breeze rose above the heat but couldn't compete as our side of the boat began to roast in the afternoon. After rendering our cabin a no-go zone with bug spray, we found some chairs and scootched them further and further up the deck chasing shade. Upon declaring the all clear, we hid in our baking bunks. On the top bunk, James discovered the delights of radiant heat from the top deck above, while I contorted myself against the wall evading the direct rays vampire-style. Two boats across, a crash of pipes and screaming ripped through the torpor as an unstable load gave way on deck. Without hesitation, in a moving display of care and unity, all the loading men from every vessel rushed to assist. They freed him from wherever he was stuck and formed an eight-man spinal board substitute to carry him up the steep, dusty bank and away. The man was conscious, moving and able to yell which were potentially good signs, but any time off, let alone serious injury would be a catastrophe in such precarious work. Men with less sweaty shirts and more influence stood and debated the scene, until the crane operator began gingerly dealing with the collapse.

As pink and violet splashed across the broad sky, our revised departure time slid away. Cats began their roaming in the gloaming. Answers became vague until someone admitted the self-evident “mañana”. Unlike James, I hadn't enacted a prescient double helping of breakfast strategy. The long uncertain day of waiting meant no lunch and, now it was too late to confidently venture ashore, no dinner either. Food service on the boat will only commence when we're underway. The boat next door with a generator like a bag of spanners in a spin-dryer, echoed the sentiments of my stomach. Woman cannot live on dry crackers alone. I braved the shower first, clanging around, half regretting that a lightbulb had appeared when I could have been spared from seeing the brownish hue of the water. It was cool and created the illusion of cleanliness so that was good enough after the sweltering afternoon. Around eleven, the crew unleashed a waterfall from the decks before retiring. Slowly the boat fell silent and cool.

Loading recommenced at dawn, watched over by the stoic yet questionable chalkboard. A quick appraisal said we had time for breakfast. We set off briskly. A man lay passed out in the dust at the port entrance, next to the cafe shack on the edge of the big puddle. Fish smells emanated from the cafe itself and we moved on. Everything was shut but the church. Sunday, gaaargh! Fortunately, a couple of street stalls were serving. The unconscious man awoke and rose unsteadily as we made our way back from a hasty plate of rice. Loading slowed to a dribble but, ominously, some rearranging began on our deck. The grim-faced captain who had ignored my greetings thus far, appeared and informed us the baños would no longer be accessible and we'd have to use the other ones. When the alternative is a deck below and a duck and a weave through a hundred-odd hammocks it's amazing how sentimental you can get for the dirty metal box up the way. Not only that but the void in our deck posed an obvious question, and “mañana” was the inevitable answer.

Lunch on shore killed some time, as did Amish-watching when an extended family group arrived to peruse possible boats. Another backpacker picked his way along the bank and was soon absorbed into the hammock sea. We acquired some friendly neighbours, and bemused them with our inability to speak or comprehend. On the foredeck, the crew somehow found space for two truck loads of ice blocks and a lorry full of potatoes. In the suspicious void, hanging feeders and sawdust appeared. We were reliably informed that “pollos”, chickens, were to be the final piece of the jigsaw. A noisy, smelly, frightened avian siege, keeping us from the bathroom. I had a go at the ones below, apologetically creeping through bodies and not quite asserting myself sufficiently in the ill-disciplined queueing system. The other backpacker squeezed by and ignored me. In our experience, people don't much like it when you ruin their illusion of being the only traveller in the village. A man with a clipboard compiled a passenger list and more men arrived with bags and bags of bread rolls. Both clear signs of an actual departure coming up. Our engines fired and we moved. Jokers from the next boat, started shouting bon voyage messages as our captain shifted us ten feet to reposition the gang plank.

The boat starts to bed down. Some guys begin to chew the fat on deck outside our open door. The only word I recognise is “gringos”. Later, thrumming fingernails of rain sound on the decks. I realise I smell of the river.

Lunes/ Monday - Pucallpa

As ‘The Matrix's’ Agent Smith once astutely remarked, “It's the smell”. We woke around six, to the ammonia of chickens and the irritating sound of some guys sitting having a full-volume, never-ending conversation right by the vents near our heads. It had begun to rain, compounding the misery of chickens and loading men alike and creating a public health disaster waiting to happen. The boat, already covered in droppings, was then showered in sawdust for grip and the resultant gunge began to spread. I was pleased to see that the chickens on board were at least being let loose and looked remarkably calm. The truck they had come from however, was a monstrous nightmare of trickle down cruelty. Down in the hammock forest, a miraculous lack of bathroom queue, and plenty of enterprising folk selling food and drink. The hammocks were strung in four interweaved rows down the boat, with others amassing lengthways in the space that remained down each side. Beneath that, a lay a tangle of luggage, blankets, play spaces and people. For all our joking about the state of our cabin, we were well aware by then that it really was luxury in comparison. Back up at our vantage point I trained my vision to spot likely breakfast vendors approaching, and as the rain strengthened, managed to head some off, securing rice, fruit and churros in the process. The occasional plucky chicken made a break from its crate, and sat on deck or floated in the river unable to decide what to do with its temporary freedom. Once the rain abated, our deck became a popular spectator spot. Encouraging progress with the chickens suggested there was hope of leaving, if not at the ambitious and inaccurate quoted time of nine o'clock. Hope was short-lived however as a truck full of drainage pipes arrived. These were transported with remarkable skill and elegance, to the top deck. The Mennonite group arrived, cutting striking figures in the crowd. Another boat docked and began unloading tropical timber and motorbikes while a team hacked fish out of ice one by one. Everything was carried off by hand. The scale of physical labour involved was extraordinary in comparison with our world of forklifts and cranes.

Finally, after a great deal of faffing about, we slipped our moorings just after midday. I say slipped our moorings, but the event actually involved mysterious and protracted effort with a hacksaw to free the metal cable from where it was stuck in the river bank. And off we went down the Uyacali, broad, clay-coloured and, judging by the plumb lines set on both sides of the boat and a tender zooming ahead with a measuring stick, really shallow. We took sweeping wide lines through the scribbled loops of water. The banks were vertically sliced and high, iced with palms and tall grasses. The sky remained steadfastly overcast, though vivid with UV as I discovered to my cost. The cabin filled with the stench of chickens and the stares of strangers. Motes of chicken fluff floated and settled like dandelion seeds. I was woken from an impromptu nap by the invasive, tinny dance music of a bunch of lads who'd set up camp outside. I retreated behind my headphones, emerging only for essentials. On the deck below, the perpetual scratching of chicken claws above lent a sinister overtone to the already oppressive scene. The kitchen opened and we discovered we were to stay put rather than join the mass queue. We were quietly a little relieved, but it would also mark us out even more. Fretting about the polystyrene waste of ‘room service', and the awkwardness of special treatment, I tried to figure out asking about using our own carefully chosen bowls without narking the chef.

The sun set on port, and then starboard as we weaved. Given the enormous distance to cover, we hoped to continue overnight but clearly it would be too risky. Soon after seven Eduardo II moored up, and we prayed to stay upwind of our feathered friends.

Martes/Tuesday

Casting off starts some time after four and dawn brings not so much a sunrise as a lightening of the grey scale. Dead, black scarab-shaped beetles litter the dewy deck. Bassless music, invades our cabin from somewhere, like an irritating mosquito you can't quite catch. I soon realise the crew on the bridge are playing Rod Stewart. The chicken stench is heady indeed and the only place to avoid it is standing ahead of the bridge. People below begin to appear with containers of brown soupy porridge and bread rolls.

Since I was up, I grabbed my bowl and headed for the breakfast queue. I didn't particularly need the meal, but I was curious and wanted to join in. Pleasingly, not everyone had jumped up at the same time, so the queue was manageable. Shuffling and ducking under hammock strings, trying not to tread on mattresses, toys and small hands I made my way to the front. I then realised the kitchen system involved presenting your ticket to prove how many portions you were entitled to collect. The people in front and behind me knew this of course and I was in danger of becoming queue roadkill when the head chef gave the nod to his deputy for my bread roll allocation. As the only non-Peruvian woman on board, I was easy enough to identify. A pair of buttered rolls and a wide bowl of thin chocolate porridge in hand, the challenge of how to get back was on. The gap on starboard was full of queue, and the direct route to port was blocked by the crew table, so the only thing for it was to edge round the stern past the frenetic hand basins and toilet block. An appetising prospect no doubt, but achievable, and I managed not to tip steaming slop on the heads of any toddlers on the way back. James looked not at all envious upon my return, and happy in his decision to remain in his bunk. I soon discovered that it didn't matter where you perched, everything tasted like chickens.

James remained up top for much of the day, like a sage on a mountain, with music and books for company. I vowed to write but couldn't settle in the cabin with the increasingly unpleasant guano fug, and blatant smile-free staring. Outside was the freshness of trees, the sound of water, thatched dwellings and longtail boats but the UV was vicious. Eventually, rather than tie the door right back as we had been, we experimented with securing it to act as a funnel. While our hammocks were a bit redundant other than as blankets, the paracord we’d bought to hang them with was proving very handy. Thus was our balance of fragrant breeze plus shade restored. Meals settled into a pattern of various tasty permutations of rice and chicken. It was right really that their living sisters should be making their presence felt. We had tried to queue for lunch but were kindly shoed back upstairs. The attempt to avoid unnecessary polystyrene container use was futile. Later, a pod of river dolphins made their way upstream, their compact little forms flowing and leaping through the water. A tiny tributary was a constant stream of water hyacinth patches, which proceeded miles downstream like a flotilla before being whisked into a huge back-eddy. As the sun set, we approached and docked for a while at a town in the middle of nowhere. Loads of people disembarked and many more joined us. Sellers jumped on, and James was eagle-eyed in spotting wedges of cake. We snaffled two slices and sat spectating the frantic action. Although we had expected to stop at dusk, we continued, creeping along with spotlight and advance scouting party. The ride is so quiet and smooth that there is no sense of movement, yet we are making progress. The crunk and boom of the crew stepping on buckled welded panels carries on all around us, long after we fall asleep.

Miércoles/Wednesday

At quarter to five I stick my head out to see what all the shouting is about. To my surprise, I find two silent young lads sat on chairs outside the cabin, observing the action. They don't even turn their heads. We'd moored up very late but casting off again, the bow seemed to be stuck on the bank. Not for long, but plenty of time for a lot of yelling, laughing, tinny pop music, and a full tympani section playing on the metal above our heads. I run the gauntlet of the stares of the full crew but soon find that access to the baños below is completely blocked by bodies and luggage. I return, cursing, but ten years in the Guiding movement was not wasted on me in terms of preparedness to improvise. The sun comes up in its full glory and everyone starts to come to life at the sound of the rails being struck for breakfast. I experiment with door funnel strategy mark two and it holds without blocking our access. Clipping on steel announces the arrival of Dino, the resident dog, and a small, pointed, caramel face has a quick check over my handiwork.

The day progresses very much like the one before, except with much reduced chicken stink and more sunscreen. Cheers go up from somewhere nearby and I stick my head out in time to see Eduardo IV going the other way with two full decks of hammocks. No return journeys for chickens it seems. We creep along at times, feeling the boat skim the bottom of the deceptively wide river. Tired of the multitude of phones playing competing, terrible music within feet of each other and us, we break out James' travel speaker and blot it all out with some mighty fine techno. Mid-morning, we stop briefly, bows on to the high bank of a small town. A crowd of sellers awaits and jumps on board, hawking meals, snacks and fizzy drinks. As the scrum dies down, a boy and his mother drag a screaming pig down the bank by a tether on its hind leg. It fights with all it has and the boy slaps its face while his mother grips its ear and forces it on board. The poor thing is then left in peace, but exposed on the foredeck. Later, at a village too small to feature on the map, a consignment of ice blocks is deposited one by one on the bank ready for a fisherman with a waiting mototaxi.

We continue to snake east and west around tight loops thirty kilometres long that take us less than ten further north. Some are so close to being ox bow lakes that they return us almost to the same spot for a couple of hours work. At sundown, people gather on deck and a tiny boy plays with a bunch of grapes almost as long as himself. He enjoys rolling them in the exact spot the dog pissed on yesterday...then eating them. Let's hope the antibacterial effects of UV are working properly. The Mennonite couple and a few others disembark at a spot on the river without even a path. They scatter in the dark in unlit longtail boats. We stop again at a village and nimble young men trot up and down with a consignment of sacks. They are 50kg each and a couple of them carry two at a time. The insect life is intense and we retreat. Later, there is a knock at the door and James answers. A bloke points and says something about our lightbulb. We have no idea what he means but, reluctant to make any further concessions in our living standards, we refuse to hand it over. He knocks again shortly after. With more specific miming and a couple words we recognise, it becomes clear he's a member of the crew and needs us to turn off the light. They must wonder how two such complete tits manage to survive. We calculate it will be at least another three days to Iquitos.

Jueves/Thursday

There is a cockerel on board now. This became apparent around four-thirty. The crew woke it up with their unsubtle mooring preparations. Sadly they also woke the woman staying outside, two cabins up. The one with the loud music and louder voice who was still going after midnight. Why can't she be hangover snoring like a normal person? We have been going all night and have covered a good distance, turning the corner from generally northbound to generally north-east. The long creep up the border of the Reserva Nacional Pacaya-Samiria has begun. At the end of the Reserva is the confluence where the Amazon River begins. Thunder, lightning and rain serve to keep people off the decks, which is a mercy if we are to get some more sleep before breakfast service begins.

More sleep, ludicrous idea! There are some chickens and ice to deliver. As if by magic, the one distressed pink pig has become two smaller black ones overnight. They pant in the sun until someone gives them water to drink and wallow in. We stop for some time at a village where the Ucayali splits in two. I find myself developing an appreciation for early Rod Stewart. As with every time we dock at a settlement, passengers get left behind. The guys in the tender wait patiently to mop up the stragglers bounding down the bank a bit too late back from the village shop. We take the left prong of the fork, as endorsed by a dolphin. This will take us through rather than alongside the Reserva, so today should have some particularly lush scenery if it hasn't been illegally logged.

The scenery looks pretty much the same, but the atmosphere on board is much calmer. The hammock forest is more of a grove now, and there are notably fewer people crowding onto the deck outside our door. We either stop at villages, if there is cargo involved, or the tender runs to the shore to drop and collect people. Locals flag us down by waving their t-shirts. Pretty, palm-thatched wooden buildings on stilts mix with newer corrugated aluminium roofing. The pig wallow has evaporated. Mid-afternoon and we are summoned over to a picturesque settlement, where the shore is lined with people, laundry and stacks of banana branches. The helm performs some boat ballet and brings us close to the bank, bow into the stream. It starts to rain quite suddenly, and the bananas are being loaded at a trot when the boat moves and the gangplank falls in stopping play temporarily. A peal of squealing announces that the pigs are being shifted to make room for bananas. Trial and error repositioning the boat, leaves banana loaders chasing Eduardo II up the bank, much to the amusement of the villagers and crew. The rain stops as quickly as it starts, and afterwards it is hotter. As we progress, the wind picks up and we are forced to revert to door tethering strategy mark one. A dead cockroach skids by down the deck.

Approaching a broad bend, we are intercepted by a longtail boat with a decidedly poorly-sounding outboard. It discharges a gaggle of food sellers, who are soon relieved of all their grilled fish, rice, egg and plantain offerings. As the first boat loads up with gas canisters and leaves, a second tries and fails to catch us. It retreats, cuts the shallow corner and has another go. They are mercilessly but cheerfully heckled in the process. I take a punt on some sort of sugary poppadom disks for our afternoon tea. More chickens are delivered, thinning out the numbers a little. For a supposed national reserve, this area really does have a lot of banana plantations. During the next banana loading escapade, an eight-legged interloper brazenly marches over the threshold of our cabin. We enthusiastically agree that unidentified Amazonian spiders are not welcome. It refuses to succumb to our foul insecticide, runs under my bunk then scuttles up the wall when I go looking for it with a torch. James manages to trap it in a pot and I dump it unceremoniously overboard. I wonder if the bananas have stowaways.

After nightfall, a huge, silent electrical storm reveals itself and fireflies dance over the water. For the third night running we can pick out the planets and the splash of the Milky Way.

Viernes/Friday

I am woken at three-forty. The boat, quiet when making way, is a cacophony of rattles and clangs when manoeuvring or docked. We have made barely twenty kilometres in the last six hours, so frequent and lengthy have the stops been. Another mud bank, another protracted exchange of cargo and bananas. Our metal cell is vibrating like a pneumatic drill, and all the chickens have been woken too. The sub-David Guetta ringtone of one of our neighbours keeps going off as he takes calls outside our door. I mean, just why, on all counts? As a passenger on a cargo boat, you are effectively just another income stream. Your time and welfare are fairly irrelevant. The sterling work of the chefs and cleaner is the only concession. At least, unlike the livestock, we are here of our own volition and will be free if we ever get to Iquitos.

After a generous forty-five minutes more sleep, we are woken by breakfast. We collectively are on the move again, under grey skies. Personally we are moving so little that James realises his kinetic watch has stopped. A new passenger, a tweenage boy, stands outside our door staring and unresponsive. I'm in no mood for that, or for people banging on the door when I'm in the bathroom. The last one gets a “bugger off!”. It feels good. More sociably, I manage to fall into conversation with two ten year old boys, who are very patient with me. I grab the phrasebook and they peruse it, intrigued, asking and answering many questions. They come from Iquitos and recommend visiting the forest. Sound advice indeed. Their dad says we’ll be in Iquitos “mañana”. I'm not so convinced but hope his local knowledge is correct. During the morning, many more people join the boat. Two of our cabin neighbours leave and are replaced by two more. One speaks some English and says hello. His English is a little better than my negligible Spanish so we muddle through for a few minutes. We are missing out on a great deal, not being able to talk to people.

Approaching lunchtime, my entertainment involves waiting to see what the river does. On the map are two of the wiggliest loops we've seen so far, one of which has formed an island and is well on the way to being an ox bow lake. What joy then, both from a physical geography and a time shaved off our journey perspective, that both loops have broken through into a shortcut saving about twenty kilometres. Stretches where the bank has grass but no trees are the only clue to the shape when the river is high. Things are looking up. After lunch, I try to write but sleep deprivation catches up and overtakes me. I wake to see the Uyacali has joined back together and we are making progress towards Requena, where I hoped we'd be by sundown. The beginning of the Amazon is at least a hundred kilometres beyond that, where the Uyacali meets the Marañón. The rivers creep towards each other up opposite sides of the Reserva, like two successful acts on the cusp of becoming a super-group.

At dusk I have a little chat with the cleaner and finally find out his name, Eduardo. He confirms we will arrive tomorrow, but that the chickens will leave tonight. As any good Englishwoman is obliged to do in conversation, I somehow conspire to crowbar in a mention the weather at home. We arrive at Requena to a scrum on the unlit floating pontoon. It is no longer floating. The river is so low that it has descended to its lowest extent and then broken in half. The large metal platform lies at a strange angle on the mud. Longtail boats cluster alongside collecting bananas and other cargo. The owner of one has enterprisingly improvised a head torch by strapping a full size torch to the top of his head. The boat hasn't even tied up and a surge of people is on board, some clambering straight over the cargo to the upper decks. Food sellers, passengers getting on and off, and a squad of young guys with empty sacks crowd the walkways. As it calms down slightly, the terrible chicken unloading begins. They are stuffed in sacks, trotted down to the dock, dumped unceremoniously into crates, and shoved until they all fit. The ones that still have room to move their beaks cry as they are hefted about. It is brutal, and I imagine there is worse to come. As the boat pulls away, shouting goes up from the dock and the tender goes to the rescue of ten or more lads who had ignored the siren at their peril. Bats swoop through the deck light, enjoying an insect dinner buffet before it is switched off. Frogs and crickets enliven the shore. The tender drops the stragglers off then leads us back out into the dark by depth stick and torch light.

Sábado/Saturday

I did set my alarm for six-thirty to check how close the Amazon was, but I needn't have bothered. I woke spontaneously at half-three and half-four, checked my phone GPS and we were nowhere near. Plenty of time for a few more hours of sleep, but one cockerel leads to another and by five-twenty they were going off simultaneously from different parts of the boat. Coming from somewhere way below, maybe the indoor cargo area, a strong whiff of reggaeton. I guestimate fifty kilometres to the Amazon and another hundred and forty to Iquitos. Gonna be a long day even if we don't stop.

The Rod Stewart ‘Groundhog Day’ experience is in full swing on the bridge, and the chicken wrangler has begun a neat and methodical clean up routine. By six-thirty I am wondering where breakfast is. Quite a departure from my habitual night owl tendencies. Day eight on board and day six on the move, the sky may be grey but there is levity in the mood of the passengers. Everyone chats and laughs. Just as breakfast is served to the boat, the chicken assistant begins shovelling soiled wood chips over the side.

After vigilantly monitoring the GPS, we arrive at the official beginning of the Amazon River at nine. It is a cool, if unspectacular moment. We turn a corner, join with the Marañon, and continue on a wider version of what we have been accustomed to. A large vessel like our own, ploughs the other way, churning up a frothy crappuccino in its wake. Entertainment is provided courtesy of the tender, which repeatedly buzzes back and forth delivering passengers and their wide screen TVs, mandarins and dressing table to a settlement on the confluence. Crew all safely back on board, the helm tickles the throttle and we start powering along at nineteen kilometres an hour. Nothing much else happens. We plan how to get all our stuff off safely. I despair at how I'm going to stow a redundant hammock in my already bursting rucksack. Everything that I'm not wearing is consigned to a toxic waste bag, for laundry or burning, whichever takes my fancy. Waiting for lunch becomes the main activity. It doesn't arrive. Do we go down or stay put? Eventually the chef appears with two crockery plates of delicious stew. Sat proudly atop my meal, a chicken foot. A thoroughly appropriate final rebuke for my complicity in their torment.

The very much thinned out crowd is somehow both restless and relaxed during the final couple of hours to Iquitos. On the hammock deck, a young man introduces two green parakeets to an elderly blind man, who seems enchanted. No stops means we are finally making good time, and a shortcut where the river splits into frayed strings is also welcome. I am not sorry to be making my last visit to the baños when the time comes. We make it to Iquitos at sunset and wait patiently at the Port Authority pontoon while the paperwork is cleared. The city is along a lagoon, lined with vessels in varying states of repair. Longtails and small taxi ferries buzz up and down. Two very swit swoo boutique hotel boats pass us by, mocking us with their crisp linen. Mosquitoes start to gather for the evening's festivities. The Eduardo II crams onto the edge of a steep dusty bank and bedlam is unleashed. There are showers and cold pints with our names on them.