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blueikeproductions · 3 months ago

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The Quintessons also got cards.

While we don’t know for sure if there’s other members of their race yet, these are a pretty big departure from the original designs, which have remained somewhat consistent.

Most notably the absence of the most recognizable Quintesson Judge is curious. There’s nothing that says they’re not there, but usually the Judge types are front and center for things, so removing them for a new High Command version is interesting.

The High Command and Soldier designs seem closer to some one off Quintessons from the 80’s cartoon.

The Quintessons have a somewhat complex conceptual history.

Their earliest concept looked like this.

A psychic biomechanical humanoid whose psychic abilities were so great they could make a horde of Sharkticons from scrap metal in an instant and probe the galaxy with a simple mind scan. Their head was apparently their true form, as it would eject and fly to another body when Hot Rod tried threatening it. The biomechanical look would persist for their final designs, but more modern media via Aligned and Cyberverse would instead state they’re actually organic creatures that look something like this:

Revealing their robotic bodies as merely being suits they pilot. It’s not clear yet if this is also the case in EarthSpark or ONE, though ONE feels like this is what they’re supposed to actually look like, but more organic this time than robotic as they typically are.

Some further revisions to the 80’s movie scripts and marketing of the time originally cast the Quintessons as working directly for Unicron, their mock trials were to punish and destroy any lingering survivors of Unicron’s wrath that passed by Quintessa. While this idea never made it into the original film, it was used in the Marvel comics and later revisited in early BotCon comics, but never became hard canon. The UK comics would make them into aliens clinging for survival as their home planet was destroyed by a time anomaly caused by the time traveling Galvatron. Running out of options, the Quints attacked Autobot City on Earth to try and colonize it, but were driven off by Rodimus Prime and Metroplex, their fate unknown but nevertheless swearing revenge on the Transformers.

The final version of the Quintessons in the cartoon cast them as the ancient creators of the Transformers, with some media explaining they also created Cybertron by terraforming a planet into a factory world (at least it wasn’t a parking structure planet). The cartoon would also establish them as slimy business men, having their tentacles in the affairs of other species for financial gain. Along with the Transformers starting out as in universe products to sell, it seems the writers might’ve been having a laugh at Hasbro.

The Quints’ primary goal in the cartoon was to push the Autobots aside so they could regain control of Cybertron, often conning the Decepticons into doing their dirty work for them. Where the Quints came from is never clear, as the show implies Cybertron was more their home planet originally due to their sentimental attachment to it. Their supposed home planet, Quintessa, is implied to merely be another planet they terraformed after getting booted off Cybertron.

Due to the more popular Primus origin from the Marvel comics, the Quintessons and their hand in the creation of Cybertron and its people was largely ignored in most mainstream media. While they saw a homage in Alpha Q in Energon (the connection to the Quintessons made stronger in the Energon Dreamwave comics), they didn’t really start resurfacing as major characters again until recently. The BotCon comics attempted to reconcile the two origins, stating the Primus origin was also the case in the cartoon, with the Quints interfering in the process, and this early idea served as the basis for the Aligned canon, where the Quints did the same in Cybertron’s early years, conning the young race into becoming their allies (servants), by bestowing both the futuristic space fairing technology Cybertronians enjoy today, their modern hierarchy (that became the corrupt caste system Megatron fought against) and the ability to Transform. Apparently the robots technically could already Transform as they all had Cogs, they just hadn’t LEARNED to Transform yet. Like the 80’s cartoon, these Quints intended to sell off the Transformers as products to the galaxy, with Sentinel (Zeta) Prime installed as their figurehead leader like in TFONE. Eventually they were chased off like in the old cartoon, but Prime nor RiD15 would ever revisit the Quintessons, though the prequel novels nobody read did claim the Autobots and Decepticons briefly became antagonized by them once more during the hunt for the Allspark in space.

Aligned’s main difference that’s fueled most modern interpretations is the Quintessons are the creations of Quintus Prime one of the newly established 13 original Transformers.

Aligned implies they killed Quintus and stole what they needed from him to become space fairing and eventually go to Cybertron, conquering other planets along the way.

The Quints were intended to be allies to Cybertron, as were other Quintus borne races, but this was not meant to be, due to the Quints’ hubris. EarthSpark’s version says the Quints were the first sons of the Prime, and in trying to discover their purpose, they became bitter and developed daddy issues, going around and killing off their cousins on other planets, attempting to acquire the Emberstone for their own use. The Quints and Transformers are strongly aware of each other, and clearly fought before, but their exact relationship has not been established yet, if at all.

TFONE greatly simplifies it to the Quints being an alien race that attacked Cybertron during the time of the Primes, though the hows and whys aren’t clear. What is clear is the jealous Sentinel made a bargain, helping them destroy the Primes and letting him be in control in exchange for paying them off in Energon to leave Cybertron alone. It’s not clear if Quintus Prime created the Quints in this universe, but there is a resemblance.

Quintus at some point: Sorry guys, you know how kids are!

Despite the Quintus origin, some modern media has gone back to the 80’s cartoon origin. Notably Age of Extinction and The Last Knight returning to the aliens created the Transformers idea, but the movies not directly using the Quintessons. However concept art does suggest the original intent WAS supposed to be the Quintessons…

Instead all we have is an alien hand and later Quintessa to go by.

It’s never clarified if the two are related, with Quintessa possibly being a Transformer and a Prime as well, but she is also called a liar by those formally in her employ so… She IS able to reprogram Optimus into doing her bidding however, so there’s that. She’s clearly inspired by Quintus, but isn’t connected beyond that. Her goal was to restore Cybertron by draining Earth of its life force and destroy Unicron in one fell swoop (as Earth is inexplicably Unicron again like in Prime). The organic Creators meanwhile were responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs, deploying bombs that converted organics into cyber matter that made the metal of the Transformers. Lockdown was working for the Creators, but with the abrupt inclusion of Quintessa, it’s not clarified if he was working for her instead/also.

Cyberverse cast the Quintessons as major villains, but instead of the creation origin, they depicted them as trans dimensional entities that travel to other Transformers universes to judge them guilty and destroy them for no other reason other than they can. Truly the best kind of villain: petty. Still this Dr. Who meets The Matrix direction with them doesn’t appear to be at all popular despite the arc being regarded positively. I still think Cyberverse is awful top to bottom, but the general idea they went for is decent. The Primes exist here, as noted previously with Alchemist Prime, but it’s never stated if these Quintessons are related to Quintus Prime.

Netflix War For Cybertron and Skybound Energon Universe also return to the Quintesson origin for the Transformers, though in the former’s case, their connection, if any, to the Allspark is never clarified. Skybound’s Void Rivals is currently the main component using the Quints, and dialog heavily implies the cartoon origin, though some minor Aligned concepts creep up as well. Nevertheless the Quintus origin doesn’t appear to be as… nailed down as Hasbro probably would like.

Indeed despite the resurgence in relevance, Hasbro seems somewhat reluctant to use the Quintessons still. The Quintus origin in the modern era had only been used in EarthSpark, and even then it’s not used… super well. The Steven Universe Diamonds that need a family intervention, never mind the genocide they caused, persists here to much chagrin. With the inconsistency on how the Quints came to be in modern media, it also makes Quintus Prime unnecessary, if some media is treating the Quints as separate beings. Even IDW didn’t do anything with this, despite using a lot of the Aligned concepts, and for now Skybound seems content to ignore it also.

I think the reluctance is due to toys of them not doing well, with the Cyberverse ones doing especially poorly. The High Command guy being able to Transform toy wise seems to be an attempt to make it clear they fit in with Transformers, but their peg warming doesn’t seem to be fixing that.

Along with Hasbro and Paramount not handing the transition from Bee to ROTB properly (like how do we jump from what Bee did to suddenly Unicron attacks?), I don’t have high expectations that the Quintessons will be handled well for a possible TFTWO, if they’re even used at all.

Which is a shame because the ONE designs are pretty cool, they made the Quints more appropriately scary and intimidating vs the slightly goofy looking egg shaped Judges. And I like the Judges but still.

#blueike productions #blueike #transformers #maccadam #quintus prime #quintessons #transformers one spoilers #transformers one

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myceliacrochet · 1 month ago

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(Actually it's been 2 days now I believe)

Some refreshers on Mariam (the English spelling is gonna vary as with all of these Arabic script names):

This is a pic she sent me of her oldest daughter recently when she was sick. We were able to help her get eyedrops and medicine!

Maryam is a friend. I speak with her every few days, and she is trying so hard to keep her head up.

Let's give her hope.

Donate:

Note on vetting: I still haven't been able to track down yet whether she's officially part of the Sidra Project. An organizer for the Sidra Project confirmed that she is, but her campaign isn't on the linktree. I will let you all know. She is on Facebook and you can reach out to her, in fact an encouraging word would go far. You can also reach out to Elayna Weems via the GoFundMe.

https://gofund.me/8f99f54e

@soupygremlin @kurtwagnermorelikekurtwagnerd @treesbian @iactuallytryingtolovemyself @kyoukris @thepurevessel1 @meadow-sea @aroacesigma @skricrich-yellowtooth @bisexuel @something-writing @paparoach @goth-claudiaa @paandaan @nerdytextileartist @lgbtiqrefugeesblog @fearfylsymmetry @soopertiddies @inthecornerofyourbedroom @depressedthembo @moronicprincess @the-mold-under-your-bed123 @linz-creations @we-eat-our-young @koscheiy @cyclopsboxhead @flowerkith @mbookcovers @sweet-honey-bunnies @dorawnfredread @anarchafemme @junipersramblings @palhelp @erectiledisfigurement @vague-humanoid @vakarians-babe @plomegranate @rainbowywitch @chronicsheepdeprivation @win-rrar @shizukateal @sweetsweethate @hexxeh @heydreamchild

#free gaza #free palestine #gaza #gaza genocide #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #gaza solidarity #mutual aid #the gaza strip #children of gaza

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highgroundanimations · 1 year ago

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youtube

Some Tukk Tales BTS details! ✨

visually, this is a one-man project (aside from Robert Hranitzky's awesome titles/logo), got AMAZING people for everything sound related though

I made every 3d model from scratch, textures are mostly hand-painted, everything is keyframe-animated

mostly using Blender (with some addons & my own scripts), Substance Painter, Photoshop, Blackmagic Fusion/DaVinci & Embergen

with most of the shortfilm still being in rough previz phase, all teaser trailer shots were finalized early, within less than 4 weeks & will get some tweaks/improvements for the final release

for generating the laser FX I wrote a Blender addon & put it for free on Gumroad

lots of trickery in compositing for the smoke FX to keep render times low

the music was composed just for this teaser trailer specifically, by the extremely talented Luis Humanoide who did an exceptional job in very short time. Go check out his work!

saw some people assume the voices are AI. Nope! I wouldn't be comfortable with that. That's Tyler Weston as the clones & AVeryDandyLad & I as the battle droids

all edited & mixed by my dear friend Jonas Hausotter, with some additional sound work by Kyberphonic

#captain tukk #tukk tales #high ground animations #star wars #the clone wars #tukk #241st #the bad batch #fan film #hill company #star wars the clone wars #Youtube

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serasfanfiction · 9 months ago

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Inspired by this Twitter thread.

Part 1

If asked about it later, Lucifer would have sworn it was an accident.

Well, his discovery was. Everything else? That was 100% on purpose.

The incident in question came about like most interactions with Alastor. Alastor messes with Lucifer (for no reason, Lucifer might add). Lucifer retaliates (with mixed results). Alastor tries to get under his skin. Lucifer casually reminds him can squish that little static bitch like a bug, thank you very much.

And so on and so forth, most only stopping when Charlie interrupts them.

It was all going pretty much to script. Alastor had just made a comment about his parenting skills - look, he knew he had messed up, but he was here, now, and trying! - to grind his gears when Lucifer found himself inspired.

Alastor wanted to rile him up? Well, fine! Two could play at this game.

Because while Lucifer's parenting skills - or lack there of - was a sore spot, Alastor wasn't without his own triggers. Case and point: The Radio Demon absolutely loathed it when men touched him. Granted, he didn't like it when anyone he didn't tolerate touched him, but men in particular was a hard no-no.

Lucifer honestly tried not to poke that beast. He knew why all of his people, these wretched and terrible sinners, were in Hell. All he had to do was take one hard look at any of them and he'd know. And oh, how he knew every single one of Alastor's victims. Could lay the names of all of them, especially that first one, at his feet if only he thought Alastor regretted even a single one of those deaths.

So he knew why the seemingly unflappable radio host hated to be touched and he genuinely tried to respect that boundary even when his own weren't respected.

But sometimes Alastor pushed and pushed until he got his reaction.

In this case, it was Lucifer in a small duck form landing right on Alastor's head.

Alastor froze as the Devil laughed at him, static emitting from him like he'd hit a bad station. Lucifer took advantage of the opening to nip at one of the tufts of hair he'd always seen sticking up on the guy's hair, only to realize:

"Are these ears?"

He let out a quack of pure delight. On either side of him, the little black antlers he'd never really paid attention to began to enlarge. Lucifer proceeded to put two-and-two together and got: "Wait, are you a deer? Does that mean you have a tai--"

He was cut off by an overly large black and red claw swipping him right off of Alastor's head. It was at this point, Lucifer realized that Alastor had grown in size, eyes manic and maw agape. He clearly intended to take his chances with attempting to eat his king.

Which, rude. Clearly, he needed to learn to take it if he was going to dish it out.

Lucifer easily shifted into a serpentine form, before slithering out of Alastor's grip. To avoid the drop, he shifted back into duck form, keeping just out of reach.

"Ha!" He taunted. "The dreadful Radio Demon, hell bent on treating everyone else like prey, when really--"

"Dad!"

Lucifer spun around, spotting none other than Charlie. While her interruption was indeed like clock work, the look of disappointment on her face was new. And so terribly damning.

Lucifer fluttered to the ground, taking to his humanoid form as he touched down. Behind him, his nemesis creaked oddly, as if his bones no longer had any cushioning between them. "Hey, Charlie, I..." He trailed off as his daughter didn't spare her hotel's manager the slightest glance. They all knew what to expect from Alastor. Alastor would always be none other than himself. She'd clearly expected more from her father.

Who'd just as clearly disappointed her.

Again.

Lucifer shrunk into himself, suddenly finding his victory tasted like ash.

Charlie placed her hands on her hips, stance . "Alastor, I know you like teasing my dad. And Dad, I know Alastor can take some getting used to, but can't you both please just try to get along?"

A figure in red came up beside Lucifer, the correct size and shape to indicate Alastor had returned to his normal shape. Lucifer didn't dare look at him, keeping his gaze fixed solely on His daughter's face.

"Ah, forgive us, my dear." Alastor says it like he'd never lost his cool to begin with, charm turned up to the nines. "We merely got a bit carried away. No harm done."

Charlie sighed, stance already softening. She never liked being stern. She much preferred to be a problem solver. She eyed the two of them. "I'm not going to ask that you like each other. Just promise me you'll at least try not to antagonize each other."

Lucifer side-eyed Alastor, who had the gall to appear serene as an untouched pond.

"Dad."

Lucifer's attention snapped back to Charlie. "I..." Her expression was bordering on disappointed again and he felt his arguments crumble. "Of course, Char-Char. Anything for you."

Her smile was like a sunrise dawning over Eden. Lucifer resolved himself to actually try to avoid fighting with his daughter's business partner.

Charlie turned that expectant look on Alastor. Alastor's smile softened into something fond and indulgent, true despite the slight distance to it. "Very well, my dear Charlie. I promise not to antagonize your father."

Charlie, always willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, clapped her hands together. "Oh, thank you, both of you!"

Lucifer wasn't entirely certain he believed a word Alastor said, but that was between the two of them.

Tbc

Part 2

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #there's some deer!lucifer content floating around my twitter feed #i blame this all on that #first deer!lucifier appearance in part two #which ive already started #i just ran out of steam for tonight

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materlux · 4 months ago

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Nemophilist

Nemophilist: (n.) A haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude.

The script brings Kafka and Blade to a post-post-apocalyptic world, inhabited by primitive humans who believe in ghosts and monsters. But in the forest a monster really does live, but it’s not evil, just slightly stupid. The monster is you, by the way.

CW: Idk?

Honkai Star Rail | Main Masterlist

This planet had experienced a catastrophic incident many amber eras ago, this has left its remaining life forms cut off from the rest of the cosmos. The people of this planet are, what the Genius Society would label, primitive. They do not understand the giant metal structures left behind by their forefathers, they have no knowledge of the aeons, or of the place they once occupied in the vast universe. To put it simply, it’s like someone pressed the ‘reset’ button on their civilization.

This explains why the script was so simple and short, no one on this planet knew who they were, they believed they were celestial bodies from beyond the stars. Kafka enjoyed the treatment, compared to how they normally had to avoid all open areas, it was refreshing to be welcomed. Although Blade would much prefer the usual, if only because then he’d be left alone.

Their mission is simple: Retrieve an ancient maschine core, something this planet's forefathers used to trade for high prices, and get back. The hard part would be to locate the core, it has been deactivated for centuries and the ruins of old have become overgrown.

The locals are of little help, only talking of wild superstitions and monsters in the forest. The village they are at now borders with a dense forest of tall trees, the locals fear it, saying it’s home to ghosts and a monster. Kafka smiles and nods along as they explain, but her smile is one of barely hidden amusement, not sympathy.

But a local makes a comment that catches both their attention, the monster lives in the body of a giant metal box, surrounded by other metal boxes. It’s a crude way to describe it, but this planet’s people used to live in giant artificial floating cities, the machine core they were searching for must be hidden in one such building.

Kafka comes up with a plan and uses the people's beliefs of a monster to her advantage, she promises that she and her companion, Blade, will slay the monster for them. She makes a show of telling the people of their great endeavours and heroic acts, Blade thinks she lays it on too thick, singing her own praise more than anything, but it works.

The locals see them off as they enter the forest, creaking branches sway tall overhead, the ground is covered in plant growth. Luckily there is a passage carved through the bush, dirt and stone crunch under their boots.

“This is like a walk in the park, it makes you wonder what the locals are so scared of.” Kafka makes idle musings as they walk, Blade pays her little mind, keeping his eyes on the surrounding undergrowth.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had this simple of a mission.” Kafka continues to fill the silence, not expecting a reply. “Maybe we’ll even have time to stop by some of the other planets in this solar system.”

Something fast moves between the ferns, Blade halts his movements and watches for a culprit, more ferns sway violently as it moves closer. Kafka watches with lax eyes, observing the way Blade tenses and summons his weapon; whatever small forest critter is moving its way towards them is surely going to regret it. But it’s not a small forest critter that stands at the edge of the path, it’s a small, vaguely humanoid, looking spirit thing; with wide blank eyes and stubby limbs. More gather at the edge, tilting their heads in thought.

“These are the ghosts the locals fear?” Kafka can barely contain her amused grin. “They’re quite cute, no?” She looks at Blade, who is poking at them experimentally with the tip of his blade.

“Cute is not the word I’d use,” Blade mutters as the small ghostly figures grab at his sword, unfazed by the threat. Kafka huffs a quiet laugh as she begins back down the path, Blade follows her, the small ghostly figures hot on their heels a few hanging off his sword.

The path narrows the further in they go and the trees seem to grow in size, more of the ghostly figures gather around them, creating a long trail behind them. Until the ghosts break away from the path to effortlessly climb a tree, Kafka pays them no mind and neither does Blade, at first.

But something large moves in the canopy above, Blade stares unblinkingly up at it, but there is nothing to see and the movement stops, the wind rushes through the leaves.

“C’mon Bladie,” Kafka calls from up ahead, “it was probably just the wind, or a bird, or something.” He glares at the leaves for just a moment longer, before he follows after Kafka.

Maybe if he had stood there for two moments longer, he would have seen you, but luckily for you that lady distracted him. The small ghosts gather around you, they clamber their way up your sides, and hang off your arms and antlers. An abomination of the abundance some would call you, although you were no child of a God, simply an oddity created in the chemical fallout of the apocalypse; not entirely plant, not entirely animal, not entirely human, but wholly alive and curious.

His striking red eyes had pinpointed you immediately, even though you were certain you were hidden behind the branches, could he perhaps sense you. You slink off further into the canopy, the small ghosts ride along on your back, you move from branch to branch, from tree to tree with ease.

In a clearing of flowers you lounge, limbs, human and not, stretched out in the soft grass. The small ghosts watch you from the shadows, unlike you, they are not immune to the sun’s rays. A patch of striking red flowers catches your gaze, they remind of the man, Bladie the lady called him, he’s been stuck on your mind for the past hours. It’s not often anyone wanders into the forest, and something about these two told you they weren’t like the locals.

Maybe this would be your chance to find some company, as mean as it sounds, maybe you could even leave, you love the ghosts really, but they don’t make for great company. Compared to the newcomers who spoke and weren’t frightened of the monster in the forest, they were far better company.

But you had to make a good first impression, especially on the man, Bladie, he was the one most on edge, even threatening the small ghosts. Your eyes land on the red flowers again and an idea pops into your head, the locals give each other flowers as a sign of good intention, right?

Grabbing a handful of flowers, you move up a nearby tree with ease, the ghosts happily follow after you as you weave along the canopy.

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Kafka sits perched on a rock as Blade walks the edge of the small clearing, large branches overhead creates some shade. After looping around one last time he too settles down, he keeps his sword out and eyes alert, flicking around the canopy.

“I doubt whatever you heard has followed us,” Kafka reasons, but Blade pays her little mind. A hoard of small ghosts tumble out of a large tree, gathering at its base and watching the canopy expectantly. Something larger and humanoid surprisingly elegantly makes its way down the trunk, Blade stands at attention like a guard dog, sword drawn and pointed. Kafka on the other hand leans back on her hands, curiosity in her eyes as she watches you move into the grass.

You watch the man as he watches you, he’s threatening you, if you were smarter or maybe more skittish you’d have turned tail and run. But you weren’t, you had a plan and a handful of flowers, so calmly you walk across the clearing.

You stand a sword’s length away from him, he is far taller than you and more noticeably built, for a moment you do consider turning tail. But you muster up the courage and extend your arm, red flowers shake in your hold. The two of you just stand there, staring at each other, it’s actually the lady that makes the first move.

“Bladie, lower your sword, they just want to give you some flowers,” she coos, making her way through the grass. She stands by your sides and gently lowers his sword for him, he relents and sends it away, you watch perplexed as it disappears into thin air.

“Red flowers, why red?” The lady asks you, if she expects a verbal reply, she’s sure to be surprised. Blade is, when you step up close to him and hold the flowers up to his face, right beside his eye.

“Oh I see, those do match his eyes quite well,” she agrees, it makes you feel a little giddy. You don’t often get praised, it’s not often you have any social interaction at all, the locals are terrified of you.

The lady, who introduced herself as Kafka, has now spent the better half of 30 minutes teaching you how to say her name. You kinda get there, but you only really make half the sounds before giving up. The two let you tag along as they explore the forest, reiteration; Kafka lets you tag along, Blade tolerates your presence at best.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the sun begins to set over the horizon, you wander off into the forest, making your way back to your home. A nest-like structure hidden away in some metallic ruins, you, who was here when they fell out of the sky, remember what the locals forgot. The only problem is, you don’t have a universal translator, and you cannot for the life of you remember more than a word or two in the universal language.

“Where are you going?” Kafka asks as you stand before a tree, you tilt your head over your shoulder. You try to make sense of what she said, as well as come up with a proper reply.

“Home?” You croak, your vocal cords having gone unused for years are straining to form just one word. Kafka smiles and nods, you relax, you think that means you picked the right word.

“Can we go with you?” She looks amused, you think, by your little predicament. You decide to just copy her head movement, a nod.

It’s not a long walk from the clearing, you make your way up the creaking metal structure, and make yourself comfy among the old fabrics you’ve scavenged. Kafka and Blade stay on a lower level, you hang slightly off the ledge to peer down at them, they start a fire to keep warm.

In the morning you’re awoken by the sound of rummaging, you follow the sound to find Kafka and Blade, mostly Blade, Kafka wouldn’t want to dirty her nice clothes, looking through the wreck. You tilt your head at them as Blade moves a piece of metal with ease, he huffs when he finds nothing but more debris.

“Good morning,” Kafka greets you, “I put Bladie to work.” She smiles.

“Bladie,” you mimic her speech, the man in question freezes and then throws a glare over his shoulder, Kafka only laughs.

“They’re like a parrot,” Kafka muses.

“Parrot?” You tilt your head in confusion, but Kafka just smiles like you just proved her point exactly.

As the day goes by and they continue searching for something, Kafka watches amused as you observe Blade, you mutter ‘Bladie’ at him a few times only to be met with his glare. You are very confused, when you mutter ‘Kafka’ at Kafka she just smiles, why does he seem so upset?

At some point Kafka makes use of your curious nature and obvious understanding of this place, she shows you what they are looking for, a look of recognition passes over your face before you disappear into the wreck.

A couple hours later, while Kafka enjoys the tranquil atmosphere and Blade continues to be ever vigilant, you stumble less elegantly out of the crash site. Something cradled in your arms, you settle before Kafka and offer it to her. Before her feet now lay the exact machine core they were looking for, and it’s still in good condition.

“I told you this script would be easy,” she smiles at Blade, who only huffs. “Well thank you.” Her hand gently rests on your head.

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Helping them was easy and you got praise out of it, it made you feel good to help them, but now there is a new problem; they are leaving. You don't want them to leave, or rather you don’t want them to leave you. You offer them more flowers and other things, you hope to convey your message, but Kafka only coos at you and Blade pays you no mind.

By the edge of the forest you make a sudden decision, Kafka stretches out in the sun, but before Blade can leave the shade. You latch onto his arm, he very nearly cuts your head off.

“Stay,” you croak quietly. He tries to free his arm, but you don’t let up your grip. Kafka looks over the scene in amusement, but she interjects before Blade can actually hurt you.

“We can’t stay.” She places a gentle hand on your head. “Why do you want us to stay?” She assesses the stressed out look on your face as you try to make sense of her words.

“Alone.” Is the best response you can give with your limited vocabulary, Kafka coos at you again.

“Sure, you can come along.” Blade makes a noise, but keeps his opinion to himself.

The small ghosts gather by the edge of the forest, it’s they’re way of saying goodbye, you figure. In all these years you never thought you’d see the universe again, but before your eyes stars stretch for miles, you are now a member of the Stellaron hunters, or more like a glorified pet.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr blade #hsr kafka #blade #kafka #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka x y/n #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x female reader

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thejournaluser · 8 days ago

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i ended up talking out of my own ass here but i didn't want to delete all of this so please note that all facts here are all stock knowledge and personal experience. do your own research, folks. do not use this for self-diagnosing purposes.

If ya ask me, episode 4 of The Amazing Digital Circus makes quite an accurate (but not perfect) demonstration of what Bipolar Disorder looks like. It's not the matter of "can't choose" or "too moody all the time". It's more than that. Just watch the episode and see for yourself.

The character's name who suffered this unfortunate disorder is Gangle, who is portrayed as a female humanoid ribbon who wears a fragile comedy mask in the beginning of the show that breaks before or during their usual adventures, and the gag is that she always ends up being sad because her mask keeps breaking.

But episode 4 was different. Her comedy mask broke too early, and Zooble instead gave her a substitute happy mask that won't break and might help giving her some form of happiness. Once she puts it on though, she says she feels "normal." Which usually signals the start of a manic episode.

Cue the adventure where they work a minimum wage, and a dead end job. Gangle is the shift manager and she is having a big manic episode. She moves left and right- a bright smile on her face that she can't seem to remove. I mean, why would she remove it right? She's happy. And everyone should be happy.

But then... pressure. Jax told her that he liked her better when sad. Ragatha, in an inebriated state, even told her that she liked Gangle better without the happy mask. It hurts her to know that people don't like her when she is feeling great. So she shuts down immediately, feeling discouraged with her manager work and hiding her face from everyone when she gets the chance.

That was, until, she faces Pomni, the main character of the show. Pomni tries to talk it out with someone, or maybe her herself. But Gangle takes none of it. She believes that no one in the circus likes her and even if they do try to act nice... their smile don't always feel genuine.

And thus, ending her manic episode completely. Try re-reading my previous paragraphs and identify which part of the story she starts having a depressive episode. Because at this point, Gangle locks herself in her office. A frown glued to her happy mask despite the name it has. And right when she walks down that kitchen, her world starts to blur as if one single conclusion starts to form inside her mind- and then Pomni intervenes.

She offers to take the closing shift and advises Gangle to go home early. Hesitant, Gangle still takes it. And with the extra time she has... Gangle takes off her mask... and throws it away.

I advise you to watch the episode and go to timestamp 19:35 - 20:30. It's a wonderful sequence.

So... post-adventure. Gangle isolates herself and blames everything that went wrong all on herself. Zooble tries to comfort her, of which she succeeds- But let's take a sec to hear what Gangle tells her first: "I messed everything up. The mask didn't work. And now, I don't think anybody wants to talk to me anymore."

Bipolar Disorder is a mood disorder where an individual enters a "manic state" and they undergo erratic behavior partaking in impulsive thought or risky activities. And when an individual leaves this state... well, kind of imagine it as feeling an entire ocean dropped on you. Or feeling like you're in front of a live audience with no script.

You cringe at yourself, further delving more into a sea of self-loathing and regret. Realizing all of your wrongs and mistakes and how much it hurts the people around you. Take a moment to think about it. You hurt people that you're close with. How dare you.

Those are what you would think of if you have Bipolar Disorder. But, please take note that it is indeed a disorder which means it can be interpreted as something else and you also could be misdiagnosing yourself if you're using this essay as means to self-diagnose so please talk to a professional for that. This essay only uses one example of a manic episode and to see it holistically, make your own research.

And... uh... yeah. This is the end of the essay. I'm not really great in conclusions but... just remember that Bipolar Disorder is a mood disorder than causes manic episodes. What happens after that is a series of guilt that causes self-loathing and anguish that results in a person needing to self-isolate and become the scapegoat of their own making.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc gangle #essay #tadc fan theory #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc zooble #bipolar disorder #mental health #mental health discussion #journaluserambless #ngl this STILL feels like it's missing something #i might deal with that tomorrow

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ttrpg-smash-pass-vs · 1 year ago

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On the left, the wererat! They're clever, people sized, and incredibly dexterous. They can also choose between their original form of a normal person, a giant rat, and a rat person hybrid form that's a bit shorter than their normal form. They're also very social, and actually prefer to mate with uninfected humanoids like (probably) you! There is a tail in the hybrid form btw, just hidden in a pant leg I guess.

On the right is the animated armor! The average one is platemail and simply follows your commands to the letter. However, they CAN be made of any armor if you'd prefer leather, and there are apparently even rare ones that can hold full conversations instead of scripted words! So I guess most are automatons, but some are actually sentient.

#wererat #animated armor #dnd 5e #smash or pass #dnd #d&d #5e #d&d 5e

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gaylordscooter · 2 months ago

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Oizys

[if you haven't read the rest of my fics (specifically this one and this one) you won't have context for some of the parts]

There was a sprout growing on a tiny island in the Doodlesphere. Ink didn't pay any mind to it, in fact he didn't even realize it was there, as he went about his normal schedule completely oblivious.

There was a seedling growing in the Doodlesphere. Still, Ink didn't notice it. He hardly hung around the same area for too long and his so-called “base” wasn't an exception.

There was a young tree growing. Still didn't notice it.

There was a mature tree growing. Ink noticed it for a bit before immediately getting sidetracked by something else, forgetting about ever having seen it.

Then, the tree flowered. Only two flowers bloomed and only two apples grew from the tree.

One apple was golden, the other, a vibrant cyan.

The two apples eventually fell to the ground, and then…

Two heaps of light were growing around the apples in the Doodlesphere. One of them was the shape of a moon, the other, a star. Both of them were the same color as their respective apples.

“That's peculiar,” Ink said, finally acknowledging their presence. He registered those two apples as souls. They weren't similar to human or monster souls, however. No, they were something entirely different.

The two balls of light began shifting into vague humanoid shapes. They seemed to struggle, aimlessly forming themselves without a reference. Until their incomplete heads turned to Ink.

Ink cocked his head, darting his eyelights between the twins.

They copied his movement, their heads turning into skulls at the same time.

Oh! They were copying him. Not perfectly, however, they were much smaller than him. Like how actual children should be.

They still had some growing to do.

Ink decided to go out of sight once their forms solidified.

He didn't know how, but their light bodies managed to turn into actual bones, making them indistinguishable from normal skeleton monster children.

Though some traces of light coalesced by their foreheads, maintaining their original shapes.

They looked around the Doodlesphere in awe and confusion. However, they stayed on the island that their tree resided on, not daring to be so adventurous.

He noticed that one stayed seated while the other walked around the tiny island.

He decided to take a peek at their scripts to learn their names. It makes inner monologuing about them easier.

Ah, the one with the moon is Nightmare and the one with the star is Dream.

Dream made his way back to Nightmare after exploring the island by himself. He urged Nightmare to look around as well, but when Nightmare tried to stand, he fell shortly afterwards. It seemed his legs weren't strong enough to hold him up.

Undeterred by this, Dream held out a hand to Nightmare and provided him support as he stood. They walked around the island, which hardly took any time considering the whole thing was barely as large as someone's bedroom.

He couldn't help but look back at their script again to read over it thoroughly. Usually he’d withhold from reading a character’s script this early and try piecing it together himself—no he didn't.

But as he kept reading the more he realized their story was filled with tragedy. He started skimming trying to reach the end faster to see what would happen in the end but, since they were outcodes, their scripts could only go so far for now.

He looked back at the two, they were happily playing with each other now. He didn't know what kind of ending these two would get. What he did know was that they weren't going to care for each other like this for much longer.

Despite being identical twins, his brother was much weaker. He couldn't stand, much less walk on his own. So often he stayed by the tree that they came from.

As for himself, he was quick to learn his role as the Guardian of Positivity. It was his duty to keep everyone happy. He’s taken up the routine of going universe to universe to lift everyone's spirits up. Sometimes he’d urge his brother to come with him so that he didn't just stay in one place all the time. The few times he's carried his brother elsewhere, he ended up getting overwhelmed. Soon enough sometimes going turned into never going.

His brother was the Guardian of Negativity, what his duty entails, he wasn't exactly sure. Surely his duty wasn't to make everyone feel bad, that would contradict his own! So, he does nothing, really. He just sits there and observes.

Which wasn't anything to envy. With how rigorous his own routine was, and how weak his brother was, it was good that he didn't need to do anything.

The Guardian of Negativity sat alone by the tree again, as usual. His brother took off to cheer people up, as usual.

He wouldn't exactly say he was bored when he didn't know what the alternative was. This was just how he felt all the time.

But sometimes when he was alone like this he swore he felt a presence. Of course, feeling a presence was a constant thing with them. He and his brother could sense everyone's emotions and it was incredibly overwhelming unless they tuned them out.

No, this presence felt closer than usual, not just as if they were in the area. As if they were watching him right now.

He whipped his head behind him, trying to catch the presence off guard. He only caught a blur in his vision, rather than a whole being.

Someone was here.

His brother came back shortly after to take a rest. The second he came back the nearby presence was gone. He couldn't tell if his brother's positive aura drowned it out or if they just went away whenever he was here.

He would prefer it was the latter, so that he could properly feel comfortable with his brother's return.

They both leaned against the tree. His brother would tell him about his day, mostly describing the environments he's seen. His descriptions were vivid enough that he felt like he was actually there. It was one of the main reasons he didn't just tag along with him. If his brother could just describe the places to him, he didn't have to go through the hassle of seeing others and being bombarded with their emotions.

While he can tune them out when they're not in the same universe, it was impossible when they stood face to face.

On especially good days, his brother would bring him trinkets that he collected. Usually they were pieces of said environments, like a rock, twig, patch of moss, among other things.

One day, he got him this peculiar object made out of wood. It was huge, compared to him.

His brother explained to him that it was an instrument—an object capable of producing sounds that can make music. This instrument in particular was a “lute”. To “play” it you would pluck the strings and it would make different sounds.

He fooled around with it for a bit. None of these sounds sounded particularly good when he played it.

His brother insisted that it took “practice” which meant playing it often, like every day.

He didn't know if he wanted to do that. He kept it anyway, of course. He’d never refuse a gift from his brother.

He was six when he learned that he had the power to give people across the multiverse bad dreams. At first, he didn't know what use this would be. Why would he give someone a bad dream? They were unpleasant.

But when he did it one night, he woke up feeling good. His body didn't ache as much as it usually did and he could actually stand by himself! He still couldn't walk though.

He was excited at the revelation, but his brother was shocked.

“What did you do?!” his brother shouted.

The tone of his voice made him less excited. “I learned that I have powers like you! I gave a few people a bad dream—”

“Why would you do that?!” he interrupted.

He frowned, “I was just curious…and! After I did, I became stronger! I’m standing on my own right now!”

His brother sighed, his shock dissipating as he smiled. “Well, if it makes you stronger…maybe it would hurt to do it, bad dreams aren't real after all.”

“So you're not mad?” he asked to make sure.

“Of course not!” His brother hooked his arm around him to noogie him on the head playfully. “This is a good thing! I think this is what you're supposed to do!”

He squirmed out of the noogie and sat down, already tired of standing. “Really? But aren't bad dreams unpleasant?”

His brother looked contemplative. He stroked his chin for a moment before a thought came to his mind, “Well, if you always had good dreams, it’d be hard to appreciate them because they aren't anything special, but if you had a bad dream once in awhile it’d make you appreciate good dreams more, don't you think?”

“I guess?” So his purpose was to help people be more appreciative of good things, probably. That makes sense. His brother is definitely deserving of appreciation.

He wondered if people ever appreciated bad dreams.

And so they fell into their own routines. The Guardian of Negativity would give random people bad dreams each night and The Guardian of Positivity would help people with their problems and work miracles.

The positive guardian was well known throughout the multiverse by now, he was known by many titles: angel, miracle, wish-granter. He was even regarded as God.

The multiversal name for him ended up being “Dream”, because he was a dream come true. If you had a problem he’d solve it. It was that simple, but he was only one guy. He couldn't visit everyone in every universe in one day. Even if he certainly tried to.

Each night he'd hear everyone’s prayers, knowing he couldn't answer them all.

Some asked for simple things, like a good day tomorrow. Some asked for protection. Some asked for food. Some asked for money.

“Please.” He would hear each night. “Please help me, God.”

He didn't have a good way of judging who to help first. He just tried getting to everyone. As a result, he stopped having time for the person who needed him the most.

Dream’s brother was lonely. Though giving people bad dreams each night has helped soothe the usual constant ache he had, he still couldn't go anywhere on his own. He ended up settling for the tree as company.

They both grew from that tree; it was like their mother, in a way.

She didn't talk or anything like that, but he liked to believe she was listening when he talked to her.

Dream saw him talking to the tree once. He thought it was funny.

Their mother probably didn't appreciate that.

Each night he gradually gave more and more people bad dreams at once. He started practicing walking on his own.

It hurts.

He stopped practicing a week after. His legs were too tired to even stand. It wasn't working. He needed more negativity.

He gave over half the multiverse a bad dream the next night. He was still too tired to stand; he could hardly even sit up. He needed to rely on his mother to keep him from falling.

He didn't see his brother last night like he usually did. He's been taking less breaks lately.

He didn't see him the entire day either.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his mom got sick. She was wilting.

He couldn't do anything to help, so he waited for Dream to come back.

When was the last time he saw his brother?

He felt that presence again. He almost forgot about it. He decided to call out to it. He asked if anybody was there.

He was met with silence.

He picked at the grass on the tiny island he and his mom resided on. Was it too tiny? Did the soil not have enough nutrients for her?

Maybe tonight, if he gave everyone a bad dream, he'll be able to find more dirt for her.

When night came, he gave everyone the same horrible dream, where the worst thing possible he knew happened to each of them.

Losing a loved one, slowly. In front of you, who is completely powerless to help.

Watching as they struggle to survive, just a bit longer. Watching them give you false hope when they seemingly gain more strength, just to lose it a moment later. You're staying by their side the entire time, watching them wilt and rot. You want to leave because you can't stand it, but you don't know how much time you have left with them. You can't leave them. They're still alive, but barely. The blanket you put over them as comfort makes it impossible to tell if they're sleeping or dead. You can't see if they're breathing.

You almost. Hope they were dead. Because waiting here is getting painful.

You know the outcome already.

Why drag it out this long? To make you suffer?

You think you’ve done all you could to help—but what if you didn't? What if you missed one thing—one thing, that could've changed this?

You didn't do all you could, you didn't. You missed something. Why did it happen so suddenly? They were just fine a moment ago.

You. Could've. Done. More.

So now it's your fault, isn't it?

You lift the blanket.

Dream’s brother woke up with tears on his face. His head rested against a dead tree.

He didn't move, keeping his gaze out on the various other islands and giant floating buckets.

He didn't even think he could walk if he tried. He shut his eye sockets again. He was still tired. His body still ached. He hasn't seen his brother in awhile. And mom is dead.

He was completely alone.

Or, at least he thought he was. When he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by many different flowers. He reached a hand toward one and felt the petals between his fingers. It was so soft and smooth.

The flower itself was in black and white with six petals. The tip of each petal tapered off into a point and had black splotches on it. It stood out from the rest of the colorful flowers.

He drew his hand back when tears obscured his vision. He was still crying. Hopefully this waters the plants.

Dream finally came back, and it wasn't too long after he woke up. He perked up, glad that he was back. He realized then, that he hadn't felt glad ever since Dream was gone.

But Dream’s smile faded as he approached his brother. He didn't look happy to see him. No, his eye sockets were widened and his brow bones were furrowed. “Did you give everyone a nightmare?!” he shouted in dismay.

He looked up at his brother from where he sat amongst the flowers. “Huh? What's—what is a nightmare?”

Dream’s face tightened, “Another word for ‘bad dream’. Now did you, or not? There's been a spike in negativity and the people of the multiverse are scared!”

Guilt overcame him. He thought giving people nightmares wasn't a bad thing. Why was his brother mad at him? He’s never been mad at him like this before. He must've messed up, really badly. He braced himself against the dead tree.

“Do you know how much I have to do to keep everyone happy? I can't take breaks anymore! I can't come over here to see you unless there's a reason! Even now I’m wasting time!”

His brother frowned at his words. He felt like he was going to cry again. He couldn't do that now, Dream already had a lot on his plate.

“All this work I do and all you ever do is set me back!”

No, he couldn't help but cry after that. He covered his face with his hands, as if that would stop the tears from flowing. Or maybe he didn't want to see that it was his brother that was in front of him. That it was his brother that said that.

Dream looked astonished at his own words. He covered his mouth. His eyelights were pinpricks. Why did he say that? Oh my god, why did he say that? He made someone cry. He made his brother cry.

“Brother, I’m—”

“No, you're right,” he choked out a sob. He pulled his hands away from his face revealing a scowl, “BUT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Dream went silent.

“TELL ME! I WASN’T MADE TO HELP PEOPLE LIKE YOU! I CAN’T HELP YOU, I CAN’T HELP MYSELF, I CAN’T HELP MOM—”

“For the last time, it's just a tree—”

“Shut UP!” He managed to push himself up to lunge at Dream to bring them both on the ground. For once, he stared down at Dream. “‘Guardian of Negativity’, isn't that what I am? Isn't hurting people what I’m supposed to do? Why are you getting mad at me for doing my JOB!”

In that moment, Dream’s brother has never felt more hatred in his life. For a moment he didn't feel any pain at all.

He could feel the balance tip in the favor of negativity.

He could stand on his own again, but when he did, he realized he encased his brother in ice. Flecks of ice were still on his hand.

For a sickening moment, he felt satisfaction. It was quashed by his distraught a second later.

He screamed.

He was ten when he ran away from it all, ran away from his frozen brother, and fell off the island.

He landed on a bed of golden flowers. The ache in his body was back and worse. He felt like his legs were snapped off. He was almost surprised to see them still attached to his body when he looked down. He couldn't get up, so he stayed there, with his back against the bed of flowers.

He fell asleep at some point, but he awoke a moment later when he heard a voice.

“Oh my…are you alright, little one?”

He couldn't bring himself to respond, let alone move or open his eye sockets.

He heard her approach, and then he felt a hand caress his head.

“What on earth happened to you?”

For a moment, he felt a soothing sensation ward off his pain, but it was ephemeral.

He heard a gasp and then he was picked up.

When he finally opened his eye sockets, he found himself in a cozy room on a bed.

The person that carried him here entered the room with a bowl in her hands. She gave him a gentle smile when she noticed he was awake, and turned on the light. “You are awake,” she said in relief. “It is unusual to see a skeleton around here. I have not seen you before, have I? No, I couldn't have.” She shook her head, “But that is not the concern here. You should eat, I made you some stew.” The lady handed the bowl to him.

He took it in his hands and looked down at it blankly. He didn't know what to do with this. He stared at her, completely lost.

“It is alright, my child, you can eat on the bed,” she assured. She pouted when he didn’t move an inch. “Do you…need help?”

When he continued to stay still, she reached for the spoon in the bowl, scooped some of the stew and held it near his mouth.

Reflexively, he took a bite. He’s never eaten anything before, so he didn’t really have a point of reference for what tasted good or not. He assumed it tasted good.

Yet, he didn’t feel any appreciation for it.

He didn’t open his mouth again when she got another scoop. He didn’t need to eat so he wasn’t going to bother.

The lady’s concern for him grew, it was becoming overbearing for him. She picked the bowl back up and set it on the bedside counter. “Perhaps it would be better if you got more rest instead.” She turned the light back off and left the room in a hurry.

Because he was still tired, he decided to heed her words.

He woke up again, this time feeling slightly more rested. His soul nearly jumped out of his body when he noticed the lady was sitting on a chair in the room and looking at him.

“I am sorry for startling you, my child. I am merely making sure you are alright.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he said.

The lady looked surprised to hear him speak. “Oh! I am sorry, I will stop if you do not want to be called that.”

Was he bothered by being called that? He didn’t think he really cared. “I don’t care.”

She nodded, but looked unsure. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps introductions are in order. My name is Toriel, what is yours?”

Name? He didn’t have one. He never really needed one because the only person he talked to was his brother. “I don’t have one.”

Toriel’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. She stood up and approached the bed.

Did he say something wrong?

“Oh you poor thing,” She said. She leaned down and brought him into a hug.

He froze up at the sudden contact.

“It will be alright, my child.”

Her voice and words were soothing, but. It hurts.

“I will take care of you.”

Why does it hurt?

He closed his eye sockets in pain. He needed it to stop, now. “STOP HURTING ME!” he shrieked.

His magic reacted faster than she did.

Black tendrils pierced through her. She was gone before he realized what he did.

He was alone in the dusty room now.

He’s always hated how reactive his magic was to his emotions. Now here he was, seeking out his brother of all people to remedy something he shouldn’t even view as a mistake.

So he froze that Papyrus, who cares?

They would care. They’d probably care enough that they’d be completely uncooperative with him if he didn’t fix it.

Finding his brother wasn’t hard, it was quite easy, in fact. It was catching up with him that was the hard part. The positive prick was constantly on the move.

Finally, he caught him traversing through universes.

Dream looked at him like he was a stranger. He always would, ever since he kept up this new form.

He didn’t even bother with any words, Dream immediately sprung to action, charging his magic up for an attack.

Right now, he was the manifestation of negativity to his brother, and nothing more. It didn't matter if it was his brother he was intending to kill, all Dream knew is that he stood in the way of his goal.

And now for the harder part, actually leading him over to that Papyrus. He used his tendrils to flee from him, the portals he opened stayed open long enough for Dream to follow. It was very obvious he was leading him somewhere, but Dream was too cocky to consider that this was a trap.

Dream managed to hit him with his blasts at least twice. He was beginning to think this wasn’t worth the trouble.

Who was he kidding? This was certainly not worth the trouble.

They finally reached the Snowdin he tossed that Papyrus to. There he was, still encased in ice.

As he passed by him and hid behind a tree, Dream stopped in at the sight of the Papyrus.

Like a factory reset, he completely switched gears and got to thawing him out. The Papyrus was freed soon enough, and Dream left the universe, completely forgetting about Nightmare.

Papyrus stood there, confused at the sudden change in scenery. He put his hands on his hips, letting out a “HUH!” that was close to a sigh. He promptly turned his head in the direction of Nightmare.

How the hell did he know where he was? He came out from behind the tree and neared the skeleton.

“HELLO, AGAIN, GOOPY THING!”

Nightmare refrained from rolling his eye. “Do you remember what happened?”

“REMEMBER WHAT? SEEING THREE CLONES OF MY BROTHER AND THEN GETTING FROZEN BY YOU? NOPE,” he stated.

So he did.

Nightmare sighed and massaged his forehead. “I’m going to bring you back to them, but only for a bit, and then I will return you to your home. You are to greet them and show them that you're fine and not dead.”

“BOSSY MUCH? NO ‘PLEASE’? AND AFTER FREEZING ME NO LESS!”

Nightmare scowled, leaning close as if to challenge him. “I froze you once, I can do it again. You will listen to me.”

Papyrus simply patted him on the shoulder—immediately shaking his hand to get the grime off while muttering “OH. GROSS”—and flashed his smile at him. “DON’T FRET, I WILL ADHERE TO YOUR RUDE COMMANDS. I JUST HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU.”

He really didn't want to be interrogated right now.

Papyrus went on and asked anyway, in a surprisingly gentle voice, “Why are you keeping them there?”

Well. He guessed he could answer that, at least. “I feed off their negativity. Now let's go.” He was about to open a portal but he spoke up again.

Immediately his volume was back up. “HOW DOES PROVING I’M ALIVE CONTRIBUTE TO THAT?”

Nightmare paused. “What are you getting at? Do you want me to kill you? That would be easier.”

“IT WOULD BE. I SUPPOSE. BUT YOU AREN’T DOING THAT.” He waited a moment, when Nightmare didn't say anything he continued. “YOU’VE DONE A LOT OF BAD THINGS IN THE TIME I MET YOU, BUT YOU’RE DOING A GOOD RIGHT NOW! AND I THINK THAT DESERVES SOME CREDIT, SO, GOOD JOB!” He gave him a thumbs up.

Nightmare winced.

“I THINK IF YOU KEPT IT UP YOU COULD BECOME A GREAT PERSON! LIKE ME!”

“That hurts, you know.”

Papyrus’s enthusiasm dwindled a little. “PARDON?”

“Your praise. It hurts me. Any positivity does, and you are full of it.”

“IT HURTS YOU? THAT’S AWFUL!”

“That hurts too. That's why I can't be ‘a great person’.”

“‘LIKE ME’,” Papyrus helpfully finished off his quote of himself. “BUT, THEN WHY ARE YOU—”

“I. Don't know.” He didn't mean to say something so vulnerable. His tone certainly didn't help. He sounded more unsure than annoyed.

Papyrus went quiet.

Nightmare sighed and opened the portal to the hall right in front of the kitchen door, where the Sanses resided. “Don't tell them I brought you back there. They just need to know you're okay.”

When Papyrus stepped through the portal to enter the hall, he noticed that Nightmare was staying right where he was. “You're not coming?” He kept his voice low, so as to not alert the other skeletons of his presence yet.

“I don't want to put up with the pain of their relief. I’ll set up a portal for you to exit. It'll close after a little bit so you have to be quick.”

“Is there a window,” Papyrus asked.

Nightmare narrowed his eye, “Yes?”

“Place the portal there so I can jump out of it in a dramatic fashion,” he deadpanned.

“Just show them you're not dead already,” he grumbled before closing the portal.

Once he was alone he laid down on the snow, which only partially soothed his burns from Dream’s attacks. He’ll return to the castle in a little while. For now, he was tired.

It was hard to look at the divine burning figure. He couldn't recognize his brother at all.

He doubted his brother could recognize him either.

So this was the consequence of playing with the balance.

He was disgusted. For the multiverse to require negativity to function, it was sickening.

Why? Why couldn't he just be content?

All the dust he’s spread, all the betrayal—the agony he caused. It still wasn't enough? He had to stick with being the villain forever?

There was a reason why he enjoyed torturing people. It was just in his nature. It's what he was meant to do.

You are building up their trust to tear it down, he reminded himself. At least, that was the excuse he came up with.

He’s killed them before. He could easily do it again.

He couldn't fight his brother or even calm him down in the sorry state he was in. The second he tried charging a blaster, a beam of light from the god struck him. He felt pain he’s never felt before. He couldn't just power through it this time.

He had to go back. It had to be now.

He’ll kill them. That should cause enough negativity to at least extinguish his brother.

He scowled at the sun. It wasn't enough, was it? For him to discredit his work, that wasn't enough insult? No, of course there was more. Of course he couldn't be selfish for once. As always his efforts weren't appreciated.

He clung onto his own hatred for his brother, for the Multiverse, to give him what little power he had and teleported back to the castle.

Most of his protective layer of slime was melted away by his brother. He hardly had enough to form tendrils as support, leading to his walk looking more like a limp.

Killer's gaze was on him like a hawk, he could feel it. He risked a glance at him to see his expression.

Confusion, and if he dug deep enough, concern.

He couldn't have that. He used his aura to inhibit their negativity. It was a huge risk to do so right now, but he found that it hardly made a difference anyway.

Good. He couldn't stomach Killer's concern for him, no matter how inconspicuous it was. Not right now, especially.

It felt like it took forever to get to his room. The second he closed his door he collapsed on the floor, trembling. He’ll need to wait a little while before killing them. He couldn't do it right now, he was too weak.

He almost felt as weak as he did when he was a kid.

The familiar constant ache was as prominent as ever. Killer, Dust, and Horror’s positivity only fed into it.

They've never been this happy before. None of them have, under his care.

He needed to think about how to do this. Last time, he killed them at very different times. He killed the last Dust because he tried escaping. The Horror was distraught, but the Killer…that one was numb, unlike the one right now. He didn't even need to lift a hand to kill the last Horror. He did that himself.

But, the previous Killer, maybe he's the only one that gets a happy ending from this. Because he escaped.

It was easy to bring them such agony. He didn't play around with those ones; it was full blown torture with them.

He remembered bringing Dust to a full underground while he was going through LV withdrawal, causing him to massacre most of the monsters there. and then leaving him there until he realized what he’s done.

He remembered locking Horror in a room full of nothing but rotten meat completely unfit for consumption and just leaving him there. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but he wasn't himself when he finally let him leave.

He didn't remember all the things he did to Killer. There was too much. He stuck around the longest. Time worked in a complicated way when you lived in the antivoid, but it was the equivalent of five years that he had that Killer around.

He had complete control over him, like a puppet. He was never disobedient, even if compliance meant tormenting the other two. Of course, as a result, only Horror and Dust formed a semblance of a bond.

They weren't as remotely close to each other than the new group, despite how much longer they've known each other. They weren't friends. They only talked to each other to stay sane.

He hated every second of it.

But he never felt more powerful than back then. He’ll feel that power again soon.

He just had to kill them.

He’ll kill Dust and Horror first. He’ll leave Killer for last, again.

Since he's grown so attached to his cats, he might as well…he can lie about killing them. He wasn't going to kill his own cats just because Killer thought he owned them. It was unnecessary. He won't have to, deception would be enough.

Deception…

It took a week to get some energy back, he had to go back to old practices due to inhibiting their negative emotions.

It’ll be worth it.

He checked in on them one last time before he planned to kill them. They were so unburdened and they didn't even realize it was unnatural.

Being near their positivity shaved off his energy faster than usual. It stung, like a tamer version of being hit by one of his brother’s attacks.

Tomorrow. He has to do it tomorrow.

It was in the middle of the night when he summoned Dust and Horror to his room. His body was actively rotting away, he opened those portals out of pure instinct. He stopped inhibiting their negative emotions, it was like breaking open a dam.

Fear was the first thing they felt, upon seeing his appearance.

“what the hell is happening?” Horror asked.

Nightmare couldn't help but laugh—he couldn't do anything but laugh, he was choking on his own bile.

Dust formed a wall of bones between them, as if that would help.

“What indeed? I’ve been slacking a bit, haven't I?”

Horror's face curled in anger. “so that's it? you're going to kill us now, aren't you.”

“You've always thought I was going to kill you. No matter if I treated you nicely or horribly. It's almost like you're asking for it.” His form was stabilizing now, with Horror and Dust’s negativity. With one of his tentacles he swiped across the bone wall, snapping them all with ease. He grabbed them with two of his tendrils and used the rest to raise himself up. “Well, today's the day you've been waiting for.”

To his surprise Dust asked, “where's killer?”

“Oh, I got him out of the way first. I just know he would’ve tried something if he was here with you two. I’ve always hated him the most out of you three.”

He smirked at the spike in Dust’s anger.

Dust summoned a ring of blasters around them. His red and blue eyelight glowed brighter, melding into a violent purple. “are you crazy?! we’ll get caught in the crossfire!” Horror shouted.

Nightmare squeezed Dust until he broke a rib and the blasters went away.

He bit down a scream, which disappointed Nightmare.

So that parasite could make him scream, but he couldn’t? No, that wasn’t right. Maybe a few more broken ribs would do the trick.

He laughed as the tendril holding Dust snaked in between his ribs, ready to pull at any moment.

Only for him to be interrupted by Horror piercing said tendril with a bunch of bones.

He let out an inhumane shriek and dropped Dust. He shifted his attention to Horror. His eye narrowed as he growled. “Huh, you actually tried to save him this time.”

His words clicked with Horror immediately. “there were more. weren’t there?” he grunted.

Nightmare simply smiled in response.

He opened a portal on the ground beneath Dust and quickly threw Horror into it as well before it closed.

He lowered himself down, that smile gone as fast as it came. He couldn’t do it. He can’t kill them. He didn’t need to, anyway. The performance he put on was good enough.

He was beginning to regret saving Killer for last. He didn’t want to go through that again.

Where’d the sadist in him go? How did he get so soft?

Maybe it never existed.

He composed himself.

He’ll have to make this count.

He built up tension this time, taking out all the food they currently had and replacing it with food Killer absolutely detests. He distorted the environment as he approached. As Killer realized something was wrong.

What little trust he had in him was torn apart in seconds.

He implied that he killed the other two and his cats.

Killer lost it.

Nightmare was almost scared he wouldn't be able to recover from this. Of course he’d recover, because all of it was a lie. Besides, those three were resilient.

He put up quite the performance, he thought. It was impressive how he was able to keep up the act.

He recalled the last thing he said before he said goodbye.

“Because I knew how satisfying it would be to build you back up, just to tear you down again.”

In the end it wasn't satisfying. It was easy to tear things down. Maybe he wanted to watch him thrive, for once.

And now he was alone again. Utterly alone. As he was meant to be.

No. He still had those cats. That was a problem. He’d need someone to take care of them.

He’ll have to ask Ink for another favor then.

#nightmare sans #dream sans #utmv fic

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