#a few months from now ill dump it all in one big batch and then return to the hills

[suburbanbonfire]

I love how you draw the nhl players! Can do one of barkov?

a barky for your efforts!! and a bonus barky below

from my current wip. you can tell its barkov from the kind and gentle face

[ot3]

first of all, i am violently in love your ace attorney fancomic. that one panel of mia in the elevator and edgeworth on the stairs sitting back to back lives rent free in my head, i think abt it every 3-5 business days and go feral. tysm <3 second, would you ever consider showing us ur process behind it? like how you plan it, the dialog + composition, etc? id personally love to get that insight !!

thank you so much!!!

i actually do have a TON of behind the scenes/process stuff up on my patreon for $2. every thumbnail/color rough/scrapped page comp i've done is up there, and i've been writing detailed commentary on the comic as a whole because it's something people expressed an interest in reading. there's a decent amount of it right now and ill have a new batch of commentary up sometime in the next few days

as for more generalized stuff about process ill stick that here under the cut but unfortunately it is going to be EXTREMELY unhelpful because my process habits are very bad.

so as for prewriting/pre-planning i do almost none of it. i've been trying to get better at doing that but i get so so so bored of that so fast. here's a screenshot of my first outline, cropped to just show everything i've drawn so far.

as you can see this all means pretty much nothing and i also didnt quite follow it. we didn't get the mia and greg postmortem and swiss rolls stuff for turnabout samurai because i later decided to scrap it. later down in this document there are slightly more detailed notes about some specific scenes, but really its all super lose.

Recently i tried to write a more detailed outline for the upcoming parts of the comic, and the stuff that happened in this most recent batch of pages was documented there pretty well

but already the stuff i wrote in this outline for later batches is not accurate to what i want anymore so to be honest the outlines are kind of a wash for me. what's really the meat of my pre-planning process is i just have a private discord server where i dump notes.

the reason i use a discord server for this is because its super easily accessible from every device i have, and doesnt require backing up between locations. i also just dump chunks of canon text in there that i want to pull exact dialogue from when i'm doing my transcript rereads.

a lot of these notes are completely useless and redundant

most of them are snippets of dialogue i want to put in on later pages. almost none of this dialogue will ever be used. for starters, a lot of it is different takes on the exact same handful of scenes and so by default are mutually exclusive bits of content. i like to just dump as many ideas as i have in there even if theyre contradictory, and then just read back through and pick my favorite/most appropriate ones as i get to actually drawing whats coming up.

every now and then ill dump all this in a google doc and arrange it roughly chronologically so related takes go together, but i havent done that in like six months so its all just a huge mess right now.

the reason i can get away with such bare bones planning is because i have a very strong mechanical understanding of how this story is supposed to function. in the two and a half years that has gone by since i came up with the idea and started working on it, almost nothing has fundamentally changed in my big picture narrative goals. knowing the exact shape of what i'm building towards makes it really easy to let the more minute details come to me in the moment. they either are congruent with that end goal, in which case they can stay, or they're more extraneous/irrelevant in which case they get cut.

when i get stuck, more often than not i just slide into mia @demonkix's dms and make her hear out my rambling. thanks mia. shoutout to mia.

now, here's probably one of my biggest sins: i do not script anything. there is no finalized dialogue until i am writing it directly onto the page. unless i'm directly lifting from the text, that is. ill have a rough idea of what needs to be said in each page when im drafting, and sometimes i'll write in rough dialogue on the draft. but most of the time ill just sketch out the approximation of the speech bubble andd either leave it fully blank or jot in one or two keywords in to remind me of what the dialogue should be. then the actual dialogue gets written in once the art is finished

do not do this. i can not stress how frustrating this is for myself. i do this every time and i always hate it.

the reason i dont bother with any proper scripting is because the dialogue bends to the art. not the other way around. a massive amount of my process is dictated by what im in the mood to draw, and by keeping the actual character interactions as flexible as possible until the art is done, i can ensure i dont get stuck at key points because the thing that has to happen is something i dont feel like drawing.

in general, my process for drafting pages is just rough thumbnail -> color rough -> go actually draw the damn thing

however there ill be times when i just do not bother drafting at all and jump immediately into drawing a page. if you go look at the stuff on patreon youll see that in the beginning i pretty much just drew everything after the first batch straight through.

this comic is a lot of work so the most important thing is that hte process is fun for me. i really hate granular planning and itd just slow me down a ton so the process is really just vibes from point a to point b. hope this somewhat answers your question

i talk about my general approach to comic composition in my big composition writeup too, which is pinned, if thats something youre interested in.

[cavitymagazine]

𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔧𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

There’s a painting of it that you’ve probably seen somewhere. Pointillist. A dirt road and a cornfield. A parked green tractor. And, the imagery discordant, a dejected ninja slouching beside the tractor, staring down at his limply held blade as though it’s the ultimate substantiation of meaninglessness. This painting’s been reproduced, parodied, enshrined, and displayed all over the globe. It’s at the Detroit Institute of Art, presently, in fact.

Equation from a crypto-meteorological textbook:

91-101 kph [wind speed] + oblique, angular shadow systems [precise configuration/density: UNKNOWN] + misty [optional?] rain/overcast sky + uprooted bamboo trees and/or bamboo chips/strips/material [exact amount UNKNOWN] = ninjitstorm [perhaps]

Crypto-Beaufort Scale entry for ninjitstorm:

Beaufort Number: 10

Name: Chimerical Gale or Conjuror Storm

Wind Speed: 58-62 mph [91-101 kph]

Description: Considerable structural damage occurs; ninja assassins manifest

The homely Nebraska town of Sumner has a general store called General Store – it’s that kind of agrestic. People and corn. And more corn. Grain sacks. A poky video store. Grousing tractors.

Of course this uneventfulness is a late and lamented portraiture of Sumner: it is the way it was before the squall of gleaming katana.

One advanced afternoon in the mid 1990s it rains ninja on Sumner. Like homicidal hailstones, they somersault and roll and flying-kick out of tornadic funnels. Like armed sleet.

It marks the first and only occurrence of this phenomenon in the U.S. It’s a huge moment in Weather History.

Day 1: Chaos and horror. Eleven townsfolk are struck down; some livestock are poisoned by blow darts tipped with something more lethal than cyanide, others are gorily ornamented with shuriken. Green tractor paint obscured by arterial spray. Sumner’s roads go redly moist.

Law enforcement refuses to step in. Here’s an excerpt from the press release the Batch County Sheriff’s Department issued the day of the killer atmospheric conditions:

“While this department mourns the lives lost in Sumner this afternoon, the deaths, according to FEMA meteorologists, are no more ‘criminal’ than, for example, hurricane or mudslide casualties. We don’t arrest natural disasters; we don’t prosecute tsunamis. Sorry.

FEMA experts advise residents to stay indoors until a solution is reached. Crisis managers are in talks with Tokyo climatologists…”

Day 2: Terrorized townies hole up inside their houses and barns. Doors are needlessly barricaded and boarded over. (The aerial ninja confine their sneaky, homicidal industry to the outside world, in compliance with some meteorological principle only the atmosphere kens.) Sumner fathers cradle shotguns, uselessly. (Bullets have no effect on thunderstorms, squalls, or pneumatic assassins.) The town on Day 2 is ghostly and coiled, tense. Black-masked ninja zip in and across Sumner’s roads like darts: horizontal black blurs… a deadly twinkle of metal… then: gone. Hidden again.

Ain’t seen one all afternoon.

That don’t mean they ain’t out there.

My nephew googled it.

What’d it say?

Not much. Lingo for ‘em’s some Japanese word. In America they call ‘em Dudikoffs. Sounds Russian.

That don’t help, Carl.

Carl’s dumber ‘an shit on a post.

Eat me, Baker.

Ain’t never happened here in the U.S. Not ever. Last one happened in the Ukraine in ’94. Bunch in Japan in the ‘80s.

On Day 2 the only deaths are an ambling wiener dog cleanly sectioned by a sword and a few chickens, their clucking heads crunched via nunchaku, the weapon’s rawhide link sticky with fowl blood.

Day 3-5: A predawn charge overtures a full day of mass assassination almost as frenetic and ravaging as the first. This spasm of killing, however, slows over days 4 and five. The manifestation still beheads anyone or anything not under a roof, human or stock, but a certain berserk spirit seems to dissipate noticeably. The slaying isn’t as enthusiastic.

Theories abound, most of them infused with a hope contoured by acute desperation; they’re near-mythic, these theories.

Research into feline predatory patterns/Marquette University/1996:

“Our team stuck cats – housecats and ferals, both – into cages: one cat per cage. Then we simply dumped mice into these cages with the cats. Dozens of mice. The mice, of course, had nowhere to hide.

“The pattern was conspicuous right away: the cat frenzies, eyes big as dinner plates, followed by a maelstrom of claw action.

“Every cat, though, without variance, did this:

“They massacred the mice frantically, as though the mice could escape or we might take them away any second.

“Then, somewhere around Mouse Victim #14 (it’s a 12-14 range, this phenomenon, though we’ve seen it go as high as 16; never lower than 12), the cat just mellows, stops killing. Every time.

“Does the cat get bored around kill #14? Is its bloodlust sated at or around that magic number? Or does it merely realize the mice are trapped and it need not rush its rampage?

“Or… or, more interestingly, does kitty experience some kind of lynxian existential crisis? Does Garfield gaze dejectedly at his bloody, dripping claws as though they’re the substantiation of meaninglessness and say to itself, figuratively, ‘What’s the use?’

“Does Toonces pause and ask itself, ‘What the fuck is the point of me, anyway?’ Unless someone speaks cat, we’ll probably never know.”

Day 6-21: Days 6-21 play out as a more salient, more fizzly copy of days 4 and five.

The murders diminish in both number and frequency.

The mute ninjaforms meet an apparent corrosion of their eager bloodthirstiness. Their hearts are no longer in it, it seems.

The ninja seem bored. Or disillusioned. Sometimes a ripe townie will stroll right past a ninja, practically daring it to cut him down, practically volunteering, and the airborne assassin will merely look down at the dirt road, as though ashamed.

Some pundits attribute the change to Sumner’s population’s obstinacy, its grim insistence on resuming business-as-usual on Day Five. On 5, farmers rouse their slumbering tractors, church service is held, and a semi-normalcy pre-ninjastorm is willed into being. Granted, ninja bashed and hacked a not-insignificant number of townies during this time of unsheltering, sure, but the folks of Sumner were through hiding, come hell or ninja.

Day 22: A milestone in the Sumner ninjitstorm: 22 marks the day of the final killing of a town resident by a manifestation. It’s an awkward kill, like the last twitch of some fading convulsion: a meaningless reflex. Miss Maple, 83 years old. She was exiting the post office. Three ninjaforms were milling around out front, by the office’s decorative trough and hitching posts. None of the ninja had attacked in days. As Miss Maple passes the trio, nodding a “How do you do?”, one ninja flinches, and the flinch clumsily morphs into an instinctive strike. A jerky nunchaku stick cracks Miss Maple’s brittle skull. Red spurts out through gray scalp. Blood spatters her lavender shawl. She dies in the dirt road, her seizurely throes the only movement. It’s pathetic, that last killing. Dishonorable. Ninja wear masks, but still it’s as though the humiliation can be read on the assassin’s face: a child caught in the act of doing something stupidly cruel for no good reason.

Day 23-Day 60:

Crazy to say it.

Well, shit. You want it to go back to the way it was last month?

‘Course not. Hell.

I know what Carl’s gettin’ at though. Yessir. It’s glum. They’re like reminders of somethin’ sad.

Somethin’ bygone.

Yeah, “gone” is right. Gone are a bunch of decent folk gettin’ stabbed and decapitated for no goddamn reason. Are y’all forgettin’ that?

They are weather, Dan. We gonna hate somethin’ natural forever? It’s like stayin’ mad at the tornado that took your pickup.

Like stayin’ sore at the scorpion for stingin’.

That weather took my wife’s eye out with a dag-gum throwin’ star, Baker.

Settle down y’all.

How much’s a bag of them Corn Nuts?

The picante ones? Them’re good.

Well, listen. Them ninja, they’re here. And, ill or good, they’re ours. That’s how this town is. They’re part of us now.

Harmless, the ninja of Sumner slouch, their all-black suits vivid in the dayglare. They mill a lot, doing nothing – mopey shadows.

A gradual homogeny blooms: the town, its placidness, its standardized, cyclic normalcy, first tames and then assimilates the disorder of ninja, like a gobbling Norman Rockwell that quickly swallows up and absorbs any rogue or transgressive brushstrokes.

No one likes a sad ninja. Sad ninja are worse than your ordinary sad person. They’re oppressive.

The ninjaforms go from skulking assassins to lethargic killers; then to dejected, bland objects of pity – voiceless panhandlers, like stray cats or confused urchins.

Lost in despair, pouting between the town’s squat buildings or brooding in silent circles behind the video store, the ninja, finally, become the sullen pillars of the Sumner community.

Day 61-Present:

The ninja are as much a part of Sumner now as the cattle. As fixed and integral as the cornstalks. More so, maybe.

Sumner’s a tourist destination now; a very disappointing one. Morose ninja contemplating the dirt get boring fast. Tourists snap a few photos of the incongruous weather-forms, grab a slab of Marge’s Diner’s “famous” banana cream pie, and drive back to Florida or California or wherever tourists come from.

There is talk of penning up the ninja and making them a petting zoo. They’re docile as sleepy goats now, after all. Sometimes tourists’ kids will run over and pet one of them or tug at one’s pant leg. It gave people ideas.

Sometimes sympathetic Sumner grandmothers, overcome by pity, will do something like pet one of the glum ninja, stroking its hooded, hung head, extending a solace that isn’t receivable.

Story and artwork by Will Bernardara Jr.

[Author Bio]

Will Bernardara Jr. is the author of the novella America from voidfront. 

[nabsthevulture]

Maceration Vs. Simmering

Maceration and Simmering are both bone cleaning methods that attract a lot of negative attention, Some deserved, some not. Despite their general similarities, there are some key differences between the two methods that really beg the question; Which is better? Neither! No one bone cleaning method is the ‘best’, it’s just all about what works for you! We’ll be comparing the two methods now, both their pros and cons, to maybe make it easier for someone down the line to choose between the two.

Depending on the tools you’re using, the space you’ll need will vary. For simmering, many people will use a crockpot. They keep good, consistent temperatures and can give you a flesh free skull in under 6 hours depending on the level of prep. A crockpot can sit just about anywhere and really doesn’t take up too much space. Other times people will lightly simmer skulls on the stove, which would give you the same result but may have a more damaging effect on the bone.

Maceration will have a bit more variance. Depending on what you’re cleaning, be it a skull or a skeleton, you’ll have to find a container big enough to house it. It’s easier and generally less of a worry when Maceration is done outside, so as long as you’ve got a safe place outside for it then you shouldn't have a problem space wise. If you’re doing it indoors, choose an out of the way spot in a room that offers decent ventilation if you need to air out. Once your space is figured out, the time it takes something to fully macerate depends on several factors; Temperatures, the animal itself, etc.. You could be looking at as little as a week, to as long as a 6+ Months.

When it comes down to it, simmering is a less time and space demanding method than Maceration generally can be.

Maceration shines when it comes to the level of prep you have to do to a specimen. You can throw a full carcass into maceration, and really only have to worry about the fur at a later date. A skinned carcass, including the organs, will rot down as intended with maceration. That being said, full carcasses do require larger containers. You can do as much prep work as desired, such as fully flensing down the bones and breaking the body up, pre soaking to remove oils and fats, whatever you’d like. That will help cut down the time and (honestly) the smell as well!

Simmering is best done to a skull or skeleton that has been prepped. As much meat removed as possible, debrained, eyes removed, jaws separated, and so forth. You don’t have to, per say, but fully prepping will cut down your times and will in turn protect the skull from having to be in prolonged heated conditions and lessen the chance of it soaking up a ton of grease. It’s different from maceration in the way that you will still have a lot of work to do on a skull that's not properly prepped, rather than just letting it all rot away in the water.

I’d personally give Maceration the card when it comes to the work you have to put in to achieve the same result.

Though you can use it for rotting specimens, it’s generally good to simmer fresh/semi-fresh skulls. Heating up a rotting specimen can drive liquefied fat and grease into the bone much faster than it would a fresher specimen, and will kick up one hell of an odor. Simmering can be used to clean full skeletons, partial skeletons, and skulls with relative ease, but the difficulty and unpleasantness rises with the decrease of freshness in your specimen.

Maceration can be used on all specimens with roughly the same results time after time. The decomp time may increase a little from an actively rotting specimen to a mummified specimen, but you’re going to end up with clean bones regardless.

Though it revolves around what kind of specimen you tend to work with, Maceration is the method that can clean any state of decomp with little change to how it normally works.

When it comes down to it, both methods are less than clean. Maceration is undoubtedly the nastier of the two, both with smell and mess. It’s to be expected, but often times it can quickly become overwhelming and a dreaded thing to deal with. I never suggest maceration to anyone sensitive to smells or with a weak stomach. It seems obvious, but you’d be surprised how often people don’t think about it until it’s a problem! Disposing of maceration water is thankfully really the only bad part. Flushing it down the toilet is an option if you don’t mind your house smelling, or you can dig a decent sized hole outside and dump it in there. Make sure you keep the dirt from the hole handy so you can push it in to soak up the water. That’s the least offensive way I’ve found to get rid of rot water.

Simmering is more messy than it is smelly. If you don’t fully prep a specimen then you’ll have to deal with disposing of decent quantities of wet cooked muscle and fat. You can just throw it straight into a trash bag and then into a dumpster, but it can end up becoming a smell problem if it sits too long. If you’ve made sure you have all your bones/pieces out of the pot, then you can also just dump the whole thing into a strong garbage disposal or down the toilet. Chase it with a little bit of bleach and a brief spray or air freshener and you should be good to go. Just be careful to not clog any sinks or your toilet flushing simmer remnants; That will drastically raise the chance of a smell problem or even something worse like insect involvement.

Its safe to say that If you’re looking for a less messy method, simmering is probably the way you’d want to lean.

Simmering a bone for even a little too long can have some drastic effects. The bone can become chalky, brittle, or flaky and turn to mush over time. Having a bone exposed to prolonged simmering will also likely bake the grease right into the bone, which will make it increasingly difficult to remove and may not come out at all. People use this as those as their main reasons to bash simmering, but it’s all about making sure you keep your eye on it and pulling the skulls before any damage is done. Anything beyond 5-6 hours is really pushing it, and even then 4 is the ideal limit you want to be at.

Maceration has its own cons when it comes to bone condition. Often times during maceration, bones will turn different colors due to bacteria or random objects falling into the rot bucket. These are pretty easy to remedy for the most part. Gravewax (Adipocere) is a concern, though it won’t damage the bone or anything. It’s simply caused by long term exposure to ‘cold’ water, and can be scraped or scrubbed away with a toothbrush. Extremely long exposure to water may end up warping or weakening the bones, but generally speaking the bones would have to sit for much longer than they would take to fully macerate to begin with.

Simmering offers expediency at the cost of potentially damaging bone, while maceration may have a few ill side effects but nothing serious. It’s hard to really call a draw between the two, though as far as not doing irreparable damage to the bones, Maceration is the more giving method.

Maceration, despite its unpleasant nature, often times will produce totally ready bones. If you macerate in a hot place, bones will start to degrease while they’re rotting down, which means at the end of the day you may not have to do any degreasing at all. On the other hand, you will have to whiten bones if you want them brighter, and there’s a chance you’ll have to give them a deodorizing bath if the peroxide doesn't take the smell out initially. There’s also the fact that teeth like to fall out during maceration, so you’ll have to glue those back in yourself. If the bones have been in the water long, you may also be dealing with removing grave-wax.

Simmering doesn’t have as many variables as maceration, but it’s almost certain you will have a little work to do. It’s mostly in the degrease, as simmering can result in a heavier grease build up in the bone. With a strong degreaser you can make semi quick work of it, though. Beyond that is the whitening, but that’s based on personal preference. Sometimes, teeth will fall out during simmering, but they usually stick around where they’re supposed to be unless you force them out.

Neither method is guaranteed to offer you 100% ready to go bones. Maceration can also degrease bones, but you have smell, gravewax, and teeth to deal with. Simmering will result in a need to degrease, but you won’t have to deal with gravewax and teeth are more likely to stay put. It’s a toss up between the two!

Overall, Simmering is a fast and effective method that doesn’t take up too much space and can be done tidily. It’s got some cons, such as higher grease levels, possibly damaging bones, and not being as useful for different types of decomp. It’s a method for someone that wants to dominantly process inside and that wants to churn out clean specimens quickly.

Maceration on the other hand is a very effective method that can be used for practically any specimen no matter the prep, runs incredibly little chance at damaging bone, and doesn’t require too much work after the fact. Downsides are the smell, the possible wait times, and the space you need to macerate comfortably. This is the method for someone with space, time, and a strong stomach that needs to clean entire skeletons or large batches of skulls all at once.

There’s no clear winner between these two methods, since they both exhibit their own pros and cons. For that reason, they’re both winners! Maceration is a great bone cleaning method that requires little work and little involvement during the process. Simmering is great for those trying to clean skulls and bones quickly and efficiently without taking up too much space. One method may not work for someone, while the other could be their absolute dream method! It’s just a matter of opinion, and I urge you to try both methods and form your own.

If this guide was helpful and you wanna show some support, maybe Buy me a coffee? 

[amandajoyce118]

Why I’m Not Mad At Those Agents Of SHIELD Season 5 “Deaths”

During season five of Agents of SHIELD, I noticed that the end of the season saw a lot of outraged fans, fans who called out the writers on social media for stories they didn’t like, fans who were devastated by different plot points. Through it all, I was… fine. I joked that I had reached a new state of SHIELD zen or something. Nothing that anyone else complained about being emotionally manipulative for the audience seemed to phase me. After a couple of weeks of thinking about why the season finale in particular didn’t phase me or leave me angry with the writers, I decided to examine why the three big character “deaths” in the finale didn’t upset me as much as they have others.

Spoilers, obviously, follow, if you haven’t yet watched season five. I’m also going to get a little personal to explain how I feel about the roles each of these deaths fill, so… you’ve been warned.

I wrote this out as my own personal info dump, and I considered not posting it at all because I don’t usually share personal stories on tumblr, but after writing so much, I figured, I might as well. Maybe it will be interesting to someone else.

Let me start off by saying we have three “typical” deaths in the finale. You have the surprise death (Fitz), the one you know is coming even though you don’t physically see it (Coulson), and the hero who lives long enough to see himself become the villain (Talbot).

Let’s go ahead and start with the easiest one for most audience members to stomach, not to downplay it for those who hate the idea of his absence: Coulson.

The audience has, for one thing, already seen Coulson cheat death multiple times. Coulson is also the oldest and highest ranking member of the team we see. It’s a natural progression for him to move on from this job and experience life outside of SHIELD. Coulson leaving the team - whether by death or by choice - is a turning point in the story. It allows the next generation of agents to step up. It allows the story to focus on more characters. It is, in short, the circle of life.

When I was 11, my grandfather was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. He was forced to retire (for the second time) because the treatments, and later the surgery, made him too weak to hold down a job. Over time, despite eventually being termed “cancer free,” his illness took his appetite and his energy. We knew it was only a matter of time before he died. His death when I was 12 was expected, well earned after a long life, and marked a turning point for his wife and kids. My grandmother sold the house they’d lived in for more than 30 years and bought a smaller place. His sons had to step out of the shadow of a man who had been a member of the Coast Guard. My mother reconciled with her mother after not speaking for years.

Was it sad? Of course. But it was also a relief that he wasn’t having to hold up a body that was wearing down. It was expected, and his death was just another part of life. That’s very much how Coulson’s impending death feels to me, and why I was pretty quick to accept that the writers didn’t need to end the season by saving him. There are plenty of fans who don’t want to see the show go on without Coulson, and I get that he’s their favorite, but he’s also one person in the ensemble, and there are more stories to tell.

That brings me to Talbot.

Talbot began his time on the show as a threat, but not really a threat. He was comic relief, the guy who says outlandish things, but who doesn’t necessarily mean any harm by them. He was meant to be fun, but underneath all of that, there’s a bit of a menacing edge to him. He was never a bad guy though. Not until Hydra messed with his head and he got ahold of the gravitonium. Daisy launching him into space was a last resort to make sure the use of his abilities didn’t end the world.

Talbot’s arc actually reminds me a lot of Daisy’s season three Hive storyline. Instead of being addicted to Hive’s connection though, Talbot is addicted to the gravitonium. He wants more and more of it in order to increase his power levels. Granted, he’s not doing this to feel good, but because he thinks he’s making himself into a worthy hero, so there is a major difference there. The biggest aspect of the story that made me suspect there was no redeeming Talbot at this point in the series though is that the “big bad” of the final batches of episodes doesn’t make it out alive on Agents of SHIELD. It’s rare for the season to end with the previous threat still looming because the writers like to close off at least one story arc. They can’t leave everything with a loose end or just abandon everything. They have to choose.

Now, when I was a kid, my mom was engaged to a guy for a few years. Their initial relationship was great. He was charming, funny, the life of the party. He was also an alcoholic and an addict who was abusive when he was under the influence of, well, anything. When I was 12, the month before my grandfather died, he also died. Unexpectedly, yes, but his life had been spiraling for so long that it also wasn’t entirely unexpected. He overdosed. His death, like Talbot’s, was like the end of an out of control storyline that had reached its breaking point.

So, I could understand Talbot’s death, even if I had hoped for a different outcome for him.

Now, Fitz’s death is, of course, the one that’s the most controversial of them all, it seems. There’s a lot of anger at that particular plot point, and I get it.

We’ve been set up this entire arc to believe that Elena, Jemma, and Fitz aren’t going to face death. After all, the three of them live long enough to be tortured by the Kree and start a family, respectively. Their safety is (relatively) built into the storyline. They might be able to be seriously injured, but death? Out of the question. Of course, this storyline was also all about breaking a time loop, so there had to be changes to what we thought we knew would happen.

I’ve seen lots of fans argue that it isn’t fair, that Mack and Polly were already safe, that Fitz’s death shouldn’t take their place. I agree. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Life, and more often, death, isn’t fair. Shit happens. Sometimes, we’re prepared for it, like Fitz knowing that Mack and Polly didn’t make it to the Lighthouse in the original timeline, and preventing that. Sometimes, we’re not, like Fitz finding himself impaled by a building as a result. I mean, I could argue that this is, for all intents and purposes, Fitz being proven right about you not really being able to change the future: a tragic death is still going to happen in the timeline, no matter how hard you try to stop it. But I don’t think that was the case here. I think this was a reminder that this group of people has actually been relatively safe from mortality for a few seasons now. They live and work in a dangerous world, and this is the consequence.

Mortality can rob of us our favorites at any time.

Which brings me to my final story of death. Not the final death I’ve experienced, but the final story I’m going to share with you in regards to this particular trio. When I was 12, before my grandfather died, before my mother’s fiance died, my father went in for what was supposed to be a routine surgery. And I never got to speak to him again.

My parents divorced when I was four, and I wasn’t exactly a daddy’s girl. We weren’t close, but I still went to visit him on holidays and summers. My dad introduced me to comic books and science fiction and a lot of the things that I adore as an adult. But when I was 12, he had surgery on his heart, checked out of the hospital because everything went as expected, and then still felt off. He went back for a checkup, and they decided to keep him overnight for observation, just in case. His heart stopped. And no one knew right away because the nurses on his floor were all with other patients. He was temporarily put on life support when he was discovered, but ultimately, there was no brain activity. He died.

It was unexpected and scary and I hated it. And I wanted to blame the nurses on his floor, but how could I when they were all doing their jobs? Surgeries that are called “routine” are supposed to be simple, ones that have been done a thousand times, like Fitz saving a friend has happened countless times. But there’s always a danger to them, complications that could arise, just like Fitz doing his job is always dangerous.

So, yes, this death was surprising on the one hand, but not on the other. I get it. I accepted it. A writer wants to make you feel something in their work. And it’s not always going to be warm and fuzzy smiles. And I remembered that, unlike in my life, this wasn’t entirely the end for Fitz.

It’s important to note that all three of these major “death” storylines feature a silver lining of hope. Not only has Jed Whedon remarked in interviews that there could be a way to bring Talbot back to the show, that launching him into space doesn’t necessarily mean he’s dead and gone, but the original Fitz is still out there, and Coulson gets a chance to have time for life instead of work.

Sure, Coulson could lose his life at any time. And sure, there are plenty of fans who are upset that he didn’t get a cure. But Coulson got to choose. Something Daisy didn’t get to do when it came to getting her powers back. Coulson is going out on his own terms. And he gets to do it in Tahiti with the woman he’s loved for a very long time, but been too stubborn to admit it. He finally gets a break from being the world’s shield. Not many people get to choose how they go. It’s a nice “end” for someone who spent most of his professional life following the rules of a secret organization before learning that sometimes, you couldn’t trust the system. Also, Clark Gregg was supposed to meet with the producers about appearing in some episodes in season six, and he’s back in the movies. He’s not completely gone. Fans can rest easy.

Some people have referenced Fitz being out in space as lazy writing, as in, “oh, look, this means nothing because double Fitzes!” Something isn’t lazy writing just because you disagree with it. I think that’s something that fandoms in general have forgotten as the social media culture has grown with television/movies/books over the last decade. Any time a large contingent of fans disagrees with a storyline, they decide it’s written poorly and everyone who doesn’t think the same as they do is simply uneducated. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion whether you agree with it or not, but to call something lazy writing just because you didn’t like it is, well, a lazy response.

This plot point is actually the opposite of lazy writing. Lazy writing is having a gifted individual who can ice their body over left at the bottom of the ocean without ever mentioning him again even though ice floats instead of sinks. Lazy writing is never addressing the fact that an Inhuman is going through his second terrigenesis at the bottom of the ocean as well. Or, you know, that there’s a member of the Inhuman royal family on Earth in your same cinematic universe who survives in water. So many ocean related things that never intersect simply because the writers have pushed them aside. Maybe season six will be Agents Of SHIELD: Submerged. But I digress.

This particular plot point does something Agents of SHIELD doesn’t usually do for a few seasons: it circles back to resolve a plot point writers would otherwise expect fans to forget. If this had happened in an earlier season of the show, Fitz out in space would probably have been abandoned for a few years before the writers remembered they left him out there. It also solves the problem of what happens to Fitz decades from now when he wakes up in space and the future he thought he was going to actually didn’t exist. He now has a future, thanks to Jemma deciding they’re going to find him and wake him up. The time loop has already been broken. The Kasius family is not taking over the remnants of Earth. Fitz would have woken up alone, orbiting a planet where there was no one for him to find with just Enoch for company.

If the writers choose to do it, this plot point also allows the writers to take a proactive approach to mental health in the next batch of episodes. Fitz’s friends now understand just how badly his memories of the Doctor affect him. He doesn’t just have those memories. He hears the Doctor’s voice in his head. He’s been living on his own for six months in a military prison, stretching his mind nearly to its limit to find a way to get to his friends. He was already nearing his breaking point then. The stress of trying to save the world, heal a rift in space time, and go against Daisy’s wishes to do it all caused him to suffer that psychotic break. That exact same set of circumstances doesn’t exist anymore. But similar ones still can. This time, the team knows Fitz is both their old Fitz and the Doctor. They can help him instead of just label him as unfit and lock him up. Again, that’s if the show decides to go there. They might not. But I feel like we haven’t seen the last of this whole situation. This Fitz isn’t going to be magically “healed” just because he didn’t do the whole time travel thing.

When I was a kid, my grandmother always said that tragedies occur in threes, and that’s been true as long as I can remember. This season finale reminded me very much of that in my life. I think my reaction as “zen” is more a result of me being able to see the events mirrored in a completely different way than anyone else can. I’ve been there and seen them all happen already. So none of them are cheap, lazy, or given to characters less deserving than others. They all made perfect sense to me.

(As a side note: I feel the need to point out that these three deaths are also all white males, bucking the TV trend of killing off women and people of color for shock value. It’s actually a nice change.)

I realize that this is incredibly long winded, and I highly doubt everyone is going to take the time to read this. So, if you did, thanks for following me down the rabbit hole of death and writing.

[tcm--holland]

memory // peter parker

summary: best friends till the end…or rather, best friends until two months ago. what happened to you, and why did you suddenly disappear? an arcane letter with a single date on it is all peter has left of you as he ponders a love that could’ve been.

word count: about 2.8k

a/n: so comic was very light-hearted, so i took some time to write something a little more on the angsty side. i stayed up last night for this, because i just love it so much!! do i even need to say it’s unedited anymore? also thank you so much for all the notes comic got (about 150 in 2 days !!!!!) and have fun reading this one, i hope you love this as much as i do!! <333

masterlist

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On the floor sits the Spider-Man suit in a small pile. A few feet away are the remnants of what appears to be a LEGO Death Star. The shelves are stocked with books, and the desk has some kind of mechanical parts scattered about. On the wall hangs an Iron Man poster. Looks like that poster’s been there a while.

And finally, sitting on the bed is Peter Parker. His earbuds hang in his ears, but he’s not listening to anything. His eyes are faintly bloodshot from crying just a few minutes ago. The phone in his hand shows that he was looking at a picture. The girl in the photo is you, grinning and holding up a peace sign next to him. You’re both in black pants and a red polo, the uniform of an old job.

In his mind, he remembers a long forgotten memory. When that picture was taken, he’d just made a lame pun about popcorn (“Here’s a bad joke about popcorn. Wait, never mind, it’s too corny!”) Of course, you thought it was the funniest thing ever and got caught mid-laughter while Peter tried very hard to not laugh with you. He remembers how contagious your laughter was, and how it sparked up something something very pure inside of him. He wishes for what could’ve been.

Peter stands up and walks over to his desk, moving aside the mechanical parts and digging up a piece of paper. He takes a seat and a deep breath before he starts writing.

You looked up just as Peter walked in. Well, not really walked so much as awkwardly shuffled. His pants looked like they could slide off his waist at any given moment, and his shirt was definitely three sizes too big. You burst out laughing, to which he looked a little miffed.

“Oh my god, who gave you that uniform?” You quickly told someone to cover you for a few minutes as you grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him into the back room.

“Uh, there was this guy, I think his name was, like, Josh -”

“Josh! Here, if you’re going to work at this honorable movie theater, you can’t look like that.” You shut the door behind you and tossed him a new polo and pants.

“Wh - Josh told me these” - he motioned to his ill fitting attire - “were all you guys had!” Peter gaped at the clothes you gave him, sliding his hand into his pocket to retrieve his name tag.

“Yeah, well, you’ll learn quickly that he’s notorious for messing with people.” You grab his name tag, which reads, ‘Parker Peter’. “I thought Peter was a first name, but cool. Parker Peter.”

“Yeah, I’m Park - wait, no, I’m Peter Parker! What the hell?” He grabbed it back and looked at it before groaning. “Did Josh do this too?”

“Uh…he didn’t. He just kinda gave me the idea to do it.” You gave him a mischievous smirk and winked. “Sorry, Parker Peter. See you ‘round.”

Peter could only stare in utter shock as you clicked the door shut behind you to let him change. It was in that moment that he realized that he was crazy for you, and he smiled.

Or at least, tries to start writing. His hand starts shaking, just a little at first. But it gradually becomes so bad that he can hardly hold the pen anymore. Peter sets the pen down and runs his hands through his hair.

When he met you, it was like he was alive again. As though he hadn’t been breathing right this whole time and he had just figured it out. He knew you were going to be one of his closest friends that summer.

Peter sets his head in his hands, wondering how this ended up the way it did. He writes a few lines about how you never pick up when he calls you, or how you never text back anymore. He crumples up the paper into a ball and throws it into a random corner of his room. It bounces off of the wall and, coincidentally, into the trash can.

“Yeah! Come on, maybe you have a hidden talent here. See if you can beat my record!” You encouraged Peter, giving him that grin that he can’t say no to.

“Ugh, fine. I’m only doing this ‘cause you want me to, Y/N.” Peter reluctantly stepped up, taking the crumpled up Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice mini movie poster and aimlessly throwing it. Miraculously, it landed in the trash fifteen feet away.

Cheers erupted from the crowd of teen workers, and suddenly everyone was high-fiving and fist-bumping Peter. You went on about how you just knew he could do it and how proud you were and how far he had come. You threw your arms around Peter in a big hug. He hugged you back, smiling wider than he thought was possible until he spotted a dark gaze from someone standing nearby. Josh.

“Peter! If you want dinner, there’s pasta in the fridge for you!” A faint voice from downstairs briefly jolted him back to reality.

“O-Okay! Thanks, May!” Peter called back before returning to his thoughts.

Maybe if he’d written you sooner rather than waiting so long, or if he’d taken his chance when he could, something would’ve been different. Maybe if you hadn’t moved away.

Peter stood nervously in front of the theater. It was about mid-July and he decided he wanted to do something about his massive crush on you. So, courageously, he’d asked if you wanted to hang out sometime. In his hand was a single white rose. Earlier, one of its thorns had pricked his thumb, so now a Captain America themed band-aid was wrapped around it.

He stood there, watching as the sun shining above started to make him sweat. He smiled awkwardly to people going in and out, but paused when he heard something. He turned the corner to see something he wished he’d never seen.

You were entangled in Josh’s arms, and you were kissing him. You laughed your beautiful laugh, the one Peter had imagined hearing when you saw him with the rose. “No, babe, I have to go. I can’t leave Peter waiting. He’s my best friend.” You chuckled and gave Josh a tight hug. Over your shoulder, he looked at Peter. Slowly, his face contorted into a smug smile. It was the same one Peter had been given when Josh played his first prank on him.

Unable to do anything else, Peter fled the scene. He tossed the rose into the first trash can he could find and ran. He ran as fast as he could until he got home. May looked confused.

“Back already? Where’s Y/N? And the rose?”

Peter gave no response as he stood there for a moment, panting. Finally, he went upstairs and locked himself in his room.

He brings his hand to his face, inspecting the scar on his thumb. Peter thinks the scar is just a reminder of why he doesn’t need to contact you anymore. You’re fine. You probably found yourself another Peter and another Josh.

Peter wonders how he was so oblivious to Josh that whole time. It’s only in retrospection that he remembers how much you talked about Josh to him. Or how you sneaked glances at him while making batches of popcorn and giggled.

He vividly remembers the last letter you wrote him, nearly two months ago. The only thing on the entire sheet of paper was a date. That date is today. Your signature, a cute collection of squiggles ending in a few hearts, was absent. But there’s no mistaking that handwriting for anyone else’s.

Peter nearly drove himself crazy trying to figure out what it meant. Is the date a memory of something that happened last year today? Is it a warning? There’s no way that it’s a threat. Or, to be optimistic, is it the day that you’re coming back? His stomach had taken a sick turn when he wondered if it was a suicide note.

Now? Well, it’s almost nine PM. And nothing happened. Is this some kind of joke? Is it supposed to be funny, but Peter just took it too seriously?

“Peter, are you okay?” You asked gently. Peter quickly wiped away a tear, but he gave himself away with his flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I-It’s okay,” he said, trying to muster up a smile. It wasn’t okay. He didn’t get the joke. He didn’t know why it was so funny for him to get popcorn butter dumped on his head. As a prank.

“No, it’s not,” you shook your head. “I told Josh to use popcorn, not the butter. Maybe he didn’t hear me right or something…” You sat down next to him on the floor of the back room.

Peter wanted so badly to tell you. He wanted to tell you about the cruel smile Josh had on his face as he dumped the bucket of butter on him. He wanted to tell you everything. But he didn’t, because he knew how heartbroken you would be. He couldn’t bear to see you stop smiling.

“It’s okay, Y/N, it really is,” Peter reassured you instead.

“Here, I’ll cover you for the rest of your shift. You go home and wash up, okay? And then we can hang out,” you grinned. It worked instantly, and soon, Peter was smiling too.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah, same here, Parker Peter.”

You were the light of his life. You always made him so happy, except for now. This whole day, Peter has been anxious and worried that something bad will happen. Maybe it is just another old prank. But he can’t help but think something was supposed to happen that didn’t. There’s a strange feeling in his gut telling him there’s something he’s missing.

Or maybe the only thing he’s missing is you.

The back room had become Y/N and Peter’s spot. No one really hung around in there, so they occupied the space when they had nothing better to do. They would just sit in silence on their phones, only disrupting the quiet to show each other memes. Other days, they’d talk about everything there was to talk about. It was a place that harbored good memories. The tiny back room with nothing more than shelves with extra uniforms and a table.

It was good until Y/N dragged him back there to talk about something important. There was a worried look in your eyes, and you were more energetic than usual. But this time, it was nervous energy.

“I need to tell you something, Pete,” you said quietly, jaw set.

Peter was worried, to say the least. The only other time he’d seen you like that was when you were talking about how stressed you were recently. You were trying to juggle your job, family, friends, and your boyfriend all at once. Things were getting difficult.

“I’m moving.” You finally blurted out. Peter’s heart sank as soon as you said this.

“W-What d’you mean you’re moving?” He couldn’t believe what you’d just said. He felt himself going numb with shock.

“I mean moving. Out of the city. Far away.” Peter felt the soul-crushing weight of what was going to happen. No more hours spent in the back room, laughing and chatting away. He wouldn’t get to hear your laugh ever again. He wouldn’t be able to be near your positive energy. And he would get to see you up close anymore. You’d become a distant memory, and maybe one day he’d even forget what you looked like.

You didn’t cry. You weren’t that kind of person. But Peter knew you felt it too. A claw wrapped around your hearts, squeezing as hard as it could. It was heartache.

“Does anyone else know?” Peter asked solemnly.

Your face fell at this. “Uh…yeah. I told Josh. H-He said he didn’t ‘do’ long distance relationships and dumped me. I just, uh. Thought I meant a little more to him.” You swallowed and looked at Peter.

He hugged you, arms tight around you. He wished he’d never have to let go. “Oh, Y/N,” was all he said. He thought about telling you the truth about Josh now, but he didn’t. The words never came out. He kept his mouth shut.

Peter grabs his phone and opens Instagram. He goes to your account. The last picture posted was also two months ago. It’s a picture of you sitting at the edge of a pool with a grey pitbull in your arms. You’re grinning as wide as you can. The picture is captioned, ‘The only guy worth keeping around!’

What happened? Why did you go AWOL on the world? Or did you do it on purpose?

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” You exclaimed as he rubbed his arm.

“So you’re telling me it was a total accident that you punched me.” It didn’t hurt that bad anymore, but he knew it was going to ache later.

“Uh…yeah…?” You gave him a sheepish smile. “Here, I’ll kiss it to make it better.” You slid up the sleeve of his t-shirt and placed a kiss on the warm skin by his shoulder.

Peter stared at you, unable to form words for a few seconds. “Man, my cheek really hurts,” he finally joked, turning his cheek towards you.

You looked confused for a moment before you started laughing. You pecked his cheek and grinned. “Better?”

“Much, much better,” Peter laughed with you. He felt like he could run ten miles, he was so happy.

Peter recalls May’s reaction to you leaving. She was sad that you wouldn’t get to have dinner with her and Peter again, or sit and play board games all day. You ruled at Monopoly.

He glances back at his phone to look at the picture of you. You look a little older, and you grew your hair out. You’re just as beautiful as he remembers, if not more.

There were days spent staying on the phone for hours and hours, sometimes even falling asleep with his phone in hand. You told him everything about your new life, and he told you everything about his life. Well, almost everything. He didn’t tell you about Spider-Man.

And then, one day, you stopped picking up. For the first few days, Peter just thought you were busy. For you, especially, life had a habit of tripping you up. But weeks went by with no response. Just one cryptic letter with a mysterious date written in black ink, which you never write in. That’s all he has left of you.

“You have to call me at least every weekend. I want to know everything! And text me all the time,” you reminded Peter.

He didn’t need a reminder, but he nodded anyway, a sad smile on his face.

“I have an idea. Let’s write each other letters.”

“What do you mean? Like in the mail?”

“Exactly! It’s so old-fashioned and cool. Like sending messages to each other by carrier pigeon, hand-written and signed and all.”

“The last passenger pigeon died in 1914.”

“I did not sign up for your nerdy ass to ridicule me like this, Parker Peter!” You make a face at him but laugh anyway.

“It was in the fine print,” Peter winked.

You threw your arms around him for the last time. “God, Pete, I’m gonna miss you so much,” you mumbled into his shoulder, the one you punched only a few weeks before.

“I’ll miss you more, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair. You didn’t let go for the longest time, but when you did, a smile was on your face.

“Write me in case I don’t make any friends, okay?” You said as you slid your sunglasses onto your face.

“Please. You’ll make friends. But I will anyway.”

You turned to leave but stopped. You quickly ran back and gave Peter a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t forget about me. I’ll be back one day.”

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

Peter sighs. Who is he kidding? He’s foolish to think something would really happen. Two months and no word from you. Why would some enigmatic date on a piece of paper mean anything?

He loosens the tie around his neck, feeling stupid. He should just focus on what’s happening in his life. But Peter just can’t let go of you, because you told him to remember.

Maybe that’s all you’re supposed to be. A memory.

.

.

.

.

Somewhere nearby, but not close enough for Peter to notice, sits a shadowed figure in a crouching position. Her suit keeps her blended into the night. She’s watching him pace around his room. His phone is still opened to a picture of a girl. She feels something inside of her, like she’s supposed to remember something but doesn’t. A long gone memory begins to resurface.

_______________________

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jase

page 14,067 You think to yourself "with enough time, anything's possible" brush your teeth Well not everything As hard as you try, with your pass-able looks and natural charisma, you couldn't convince a regular girl to settle down with you There was of course the time you got close Really close You could almost taste it But events didn't quite turn out in your favor, giving birth to your desire for revenge against these menacing criminals that took everything away while keeping the status quo in the background, you prepare the vehicle for tonight The heavy modified hoverbike sitting in your parking space in the Apartment-Boat you call home could bu handy if anything happens tonight A quick look in the mirror and you make sure your kutte is straight Time to fire this festering hole eventually door shuts behind !!!!!" "What did you just say?" You bend your head to your scruffy looking "girlfriend" "Darling" "I said he, are we or aren't we eating an alligator burger tonight?! Come on! We are going to be late! her fingernails nervously as she wears her construction outfit in your room She didn't work to day, but instead wanted you to show you this new opening at a Gallery You roll on the bed and sit up to catch a napping Cello, "uhh I dunno Bri, I'm supposed "No excuses! We are going, be ready, meet me there, DON'T BE LATE! Whole alligator dinner , assemble or eat Last weekend on my break from capture the flag, I stayed with my father, and his new bride "Darling" has no blood relation to me, but she feeds me bugs everyday and lets play near the construction sites We love to ride the huge trucks and dump them Once we were playing catch with a grenade since we thought it was a medicine ball Right before it blew up, dad came running at us with his eyes bigger than us Now that I rely use some filters and stay near sea I do not get to eat opening acts 4 minutes ago Well back in the day, I had an assassin try to take me out at their main encampment This was years ago when the ED and GC were still allies My public reason was to get some fuel for the trip to Nine-Oak, my real motive well to this day I'm not quite sure but it must've been important since I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it out of there and owner Door 5 The smell overtakes the sensors While 4 channels show a heavy dose of psychosis swinging back and forth with tylium injections, a brighter side appears You nearly see hope Her quarters are the large one at the top of everyone's screens covered with a one way window; perfect for spying and collecting intel, while maintaining necessary top security Also, you instantly recognize this families logo Your mind draws a blank then slowly; a blurry memory resurfaces ! Now! The writing on the walls is like no language you've ever seen, but you can make out a few familiar shapes Your mind struggles Zukhara? No, much older "Darling" hasn't moved an inch Quickly she grabs the image of an alligator in a fine crafted cherry wood frame from the wall and throws it on the floor with a loud crack The mirror and painting lay shattered and displayed on the ground or the paintings for dinner? And that other thing, whatever it was Be my guest! You pull yourself out of the seat and slowly walk to an empty space on the wall where you open a hidden safe Typewriter and stacks of cash fill the drawer as you sit down and start writing a note While your writing doesn't exactly look like calligraphy, presumably this will still be counted as "artwork" finish it and then mount it on an alligator skin I believe? Well if it'll honor you prefer the skin? Nothing's stopping you now, assuming he is on the level then both will be coming from our rations tomorrow night along with a bottle of 1975 empire Zinfandel which should make a fine adhesive, provided the gluing is up to the quality of your current paintings Your collection should look flawless The door opens as a slight breeze pushes it further into the room pay money to own some of that, shining in black frames on the red walls, alligator skin flooring and a genuine Empire zin Please give our compliments to genius chef as soon as he has time Research Assistants - University of Progensberg Your art is now top secret Even if anyone thought the colorful swirls were anything more than bits to be analysed they wont get far before it's taken out of general circulation , good thing arnt they one of the few human like species discovered it'd be a shame to see them go extinct before we had a chance to eat them Year 595 Research: While the painting sub branch isn't exactly mundane, you don't feel like it's enough creative outlet for today How will this help forging a GC post extinction legacy? You need to be doing more smelling faintly of paint and on most occasions you see red, blue or purple flash before your eyes Congratulations, after 500 years since the inception of the project it appears urantra brain secretes some kind of purple pigment for decoration purposes At this point we don't care, just take it and inject it into your veins almost as much as a fine bottle of empire zin The purple lightning strikes outside seem brighter and warmer these days, might just be the drugs talking though Almost done with this batch and then it's a few months of off book research Wanna come with? to EAT animals but not ok to EAT people or OTHER human like species, or elves or anything like that After rereading Anecia's speech you realize how close the average person is to becoming their food source Hopefully this research will earn a bit of trust that you aren't planning on eating them probably I heard that! And no im not coming with you, ill just be here waiting than they'd want to hurt Anecia They are essential for milk and cheese after all That being said, when your racing home after a hard day at the lab, hoping that tonight might treat you to some Anecian Stuffed Peppers, how often do you think about where the meat in that casserole really came from? And where did the cow come from anyways? Was it just walking around one day when it decided to become lunch? ? plus they taste good You were always told that dragons where monsters that scorched the earth and sky alike but now your standing here arms deep in a corpse of one The first dragon you've ever slain, and its wings are actually alot smaller then you thought If your parents could see you now, how proud they would be They'd probably question their training however, and rightfully so but still you had this one in the bag all along to realize, be it hook, spear or net, the dragon had little chance of escape With your own particular set of skills, you have this wyrm failling to a blow from above Year 600 You meet mr Average Person (read:secretary) early in the week with the to-do list every sunday you have to go over everything with him and give some sort of idea of what the team is going to work on two months from now or the intense studies of the Purple ichor's amazing healing properties? Question 6 (1,798 voters, tcoh_input@yahoo com) Hello nice to meet you roommate! tell me about yourself Name: Sun LiRace: Black TrollClass: PlayboyER demigodSTR! 30INT! 30WIS! 40 AGI! 50LUCK! 70SKILL! 56TRAIT! 18 let's see your father ran before he took you away Since that is no doubt who your roommate is let's see if we can figure that out There are roughly 100 students at this school about 25 are demi human and half of them are races that could easily be your roommate (or would that be roommers?) Of the remaining human race half of them are girls hmmm 1 in 4 now that probably isn't right If your more of gun nut check the lastest firearms at [kroger market] beer !!! if i were a teamate in this, what would my role be? (ans: Captain Kirk) if you don't find the quest fun anymore you can get The big you go, the harder it gets and more danger you're in with the law getting in your way many snatchers have been shanked because they tried to use deadly force Common based snatchers are in it for a quick buck, so as such they won't try to take on an entire orc tribe by themselves They'll hit lone caravans and small to mid sized groups of merchants Most cases the black market isn't a criminal underworld full of dangerous felons and relentless mana-vampires as it is a bunch of bored immortals trying to pass the time One of these things is the demon market, located in the third layer of hell (dashit) , with a 50% savediscount! As the thief harvest goes on, something a bit odd stands out to you In each and every case of missing persons a lot of them were last seen in the area around Kroger's region That supermarket is either running a regular scam or is involved in this somehow It wouldn't be the strangest thing you've seen, and it certainly wouldn't be the worst crime organization By questioning the store manager, it becomes clear that he knows exactly what's going on at your supermarket The hell is this? This smelly bigfoot goes by many names, from dogman, to the grizzy, to bigfoot, yet in all cases it is all the same creature Some say it's a werecreature of some sort while others believe them to just be a rare species that has managed to avoid discovery all these years But fact is, they look like bigfoot and that's good enough for you with the scope With this mode, each gun has a different "feel" to it You'll need to spend some time with this to master precision shooting There's aiming on the move, finding your range, and many other types of shooting Since you've only got the one shot, make it a good one To shoot or not to shoot With a deer carcuss near it You find the creature standing outside for some reason with one shot Not such an easy task, considering you're pretty far away Your standard iron sights are going to have to do since you don't have an optic for this gun It's a bit tough since when you use this gun from the hip it's over 20 pounds, so getting your aim steady is important Fortunately for you there's no wind so you just have to account for your lateral movement and launch the round There's fur, blood and entrails everywhere It's easy meat to take back and sell, which is important, because you're not getting it for free after your hunt congrats op you've more than doubly profited from this encounter Choose: deer skin or alligator skin Oh ick totals Maybe this game would be a little easier with higher caliber guns, or at least ones that can accept scopes The noise really isn't worth it though since all you're doing is driving away any game in the area In the future it might be worth going furless, but for now all those useless bits can be turned into ichorium explosives , as usual So, loot and sell the gall bladder, liver, heart, intestines and maybe even a tooth or two Keep these offable parts in your pack until you get home, then put them in the fridge If you need more storage get a cooler or upgrade the house comes, sell more parts to him then cook dinner for you and your buddy While preparing the meat for cooking have some guests come over They brought a few six packs of brew with them Go ahead and share the wealth You should put it in your new fridge After eating, showing off a bit and having a generally good time its time to hit the hay You fell asleep on the couch so move yourself to the bed at 12 99 a person Ohh monetization Tonight's profit: 2168 ichorium shares, 8 silver, 4 quarters Days passed in the marsh and you still don't have Clyde or Fen just a lot of wet feet You do however have eaten everything in your fridge even the bait, so you're going to have to get more food or eat something inedible again like the alligator fleshes you've got hanging around The thought haunts you throughout the day and night It's really throwing off your concentration, you can't wait for this time to be over so you can bag a couple of wyverns First thing in the morning you sharpen your rifle and put on your pack This is going to be the day Not once, but twice people from the fort come and see if you're around and suddenly everyone wants to see me And they'res not just a few people they're like 18 of them You were out hunting so you weren't around to whlect their calls, replys or even show up while prying eyes were watching Instead they get your mildly annoyed brother in law to talk to them They leave dissapointed and unanswered Then you jump in and make things worse You wander into the fort to pick up a few things at the store and who do you find there? The same two wyvern jockeys that approached you To your surprise they knew you were out here, but even more surprising was what one of them said while the other looked on in silence "We would've been better off if you hadn't helped us at all Did I really do that much damage? You tried to wave them off and assure them of the contrary but they left shortly there after You could only hope they would come to appreciate what you did for them in time Just then an all too familiar symbol caught your attention, staring up at you from a wanted poster it was Clyde! Or rather Commander Ram himself If you wore a mask around here people might mistake you for someone else But what does it say about us that someone like him was able to take charge in the first place? You were Clyde There was no denying it But you couldn't hunt him down, not after what happened The poor sap that did finally catch up with him on that wanted notice looked a lot like Mason, even had a family resemblance It wasn't him, but it could've been What would you do if you found him, put a gun to his head and drag him back? It was a tempting idea but he probably wouldn't get far and in your current mood you might not be able to bring yourself to help if someone else was beating him to within an inch of his life It was shameful, but the best thing you could do for him right now was stay away However he still needed to be brought to justice, the way he was gallivanting around the countryside rounding up god knew who and throwing them in his cells was bad for business People would begin to unite against him and that could be far worse bandits, mercenaries, wary townies, kobolds all with one collective ideology: Fear Something you only engendered towards yourself and justified with your greater purpose To lose that power could cost you your survival! No, Ram had to be brought to justice, but not by you The best way of erasing your past was to put some distance between it and yourself You'd head west, maybe head out to sea or even up north to where the gnomes and their contraptions came from A new frontier, there had to be one yet untapped But before you could begin your new life you had to make one last trip out to the woods and see how Detlaf and Ranon were progressing on their logging town (You didn't want to go out there again ever but beggars can't be choosers ) You found them both cutting down trees like it was going out of style, which with the influx of new settlers it very well might Seeing you ride up they finally take a break You didn't really have to, but it was a convenient excuse to just sit there pulling up your shirt sleeve and scratching at your glowing badge of honor Your beam of light may have been gone, but it would never fade from your arm You came to accept that, you only wished you could do the same with the scars that wrapped around your back Still, the badges were going to come in handy as you've managed to use them as a conversation starter "See something you like Mason?" Ranon playfully sneered while waggling his eyebrows He probably didn't even realize what he was doing but you just let it slide and carry on with what you needed "That town you were working on looks like its coming along well "Town?" Ranon said with some pride "Haram, it's a city now King Sylvester himself stopped by recently to give his official endorsement Lot of people flooding to it You were genuinely happy for both of them but the news did stop you for a moment A whole another kingdom? If a place that big could form that fast just from one bandit gang then wherever you end up things were going to be very different Actually now that you thought about it considering how big the kingdom must be there was probably anothere bandit gang somewhere else doing much the same thing you were Bandits: Been there, done that It probably hadn't even been a year yet and already the game was up Well in for a coin, in for a Rai-ken You had made your decision and your destination doesn't matter as long as its a new frontier and they needed doctors right? Well maybe you'd stick to frontier clinics, but that was still medicine Might even get to put those old bandit skills of stealing from the sick for the good of the community Time would tell In any case you had some people to see and from there you'd make your plans Your next destination was Rask and then beyond it! Or so you thought Funny how things worked out, but it was the calm before the storm You laid down to sleep on your bed one night and then you heard a loud noise followed by the house shaking as if there was an earth quake going on Your rabbits in a stew because none of the furniture broke but everything ended up in disarray and broken pottery was everywhere One of your manticores came running in from one of the other rooms having been spooked by the noise if the trampled flower vase and rolling obei seeds meant anything You were still half-awake and pretty startled yourself, but instincts kicked in and you moved towards your rifle, thinking it was hostiles or something By the time you got into the living room and realized what happened it was over And just in time too, because you heard Naji let out an unearthly shriek of pain from her bedroom next door