#and i knew Dan would be conscious of that

[ennaih]

Not Every Film I Watch In 2024

12. Good Grief (2023)

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Happy 6k!!!! That’s so exciting and you deserve it :)

Can I request Bucky & touch starved?

.⋆｡Small Adjustments｡⋆.

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

To Bucky, touch brought with it pain and suffering but maybe it can be different with you

Warnings:  touch starved!Bucky, fluff, mutual pining, mention of torture, bit of hurt/comfort WC: 1.3k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was an unspoken agreement amongst the Avengers that under no circumstances was Bucky to be touched. There were one too many instances of him lashing out at even the smallest of touches and after Peter’s arm was almost broken when he grabbed Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself after tripping, the rule was firmly set in place. 

Touch had always been the harbinger of pain to Bucky. He had experienced and survived thousands of experiments; he knew the difference between acids just based on how much they burned him when they made contact with his skin. He knew what it was like to be ripped apart from the inside out as he was stitched back together while fully conscious. Bucky’s nerves were permanently scarred with each and every moment of pain, ensuring that he would never forget what he had gone through. Needless to say, he appreciated the physical distance the Avengers afforded him, even if it did make his chest ache sometimes.

He saw the friendly touches between them all— a hug after a hard mission, a clap on the back during training, even the occasional platonic cuddling during movie nights and he couldn’t help but be envious, especially when it came to you.

You were, by far, the most affectionate person he had ever met. You didn’t hesitate to wrap yourself around anyone who needed a hug, your hand was quite frequently clamped with someone else’s (Natasha’s or Wanda’s more often than not). You weren’t selfish with your touch and though it could be deadly thanks to your training, Bucky knew that you would never hurt the people you cared about.

“Barnes~ where are you!” Bucky’s lips curled into a gentle smile as your voice floated through the hallway, immediately brightening up the entire building.

“I’m in the kitchen, doll!” He shouted back before your footsteps quickened and you burst into the room. Your eyes, although still bleary with sleep even though it was 2 in the afternoon, positively sparkled as soon as you spotted the ex-assassin. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, and you flustered slightly, looking down at what you were wearing.

“I thought I lost that shirt.” 

“Yeah well don’t leave your stuff out if you don’t want someone to steal it.” You shrugged as you skipped over to the pot of fresh coffee still sitting in the machine.

“I seem to remember putting that shirt away, in my closet, in my locked bedroom.”  Bucky took a sip of his own coffee.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I think old age is finally getting to you.” You tried to hide your warming cheeks behind your mug but he could see right through you.

“Whatever you say doll.” A comfortable silence settled over the both of you for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“So… we have the place to ourselves today,” Bucky knew what was coming, “wanna binge-watch Supernatural with me?” You looked up at him with such a hopeful expression on your face, it made his heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know, I was planning on going for a long run today.” His voice tilted up but in your post-sleep haze, you couldn’t pick up on the shift in his tone. Immediately, your eyes dropped and your bottom lip poked out. Bucky’s stomach flipped and suddenly all he wanted to do was to scoop you up into his arms and kiss away your pout. Instead, he blurted out quickly, “Hey, hey. I was just teasing. Of course I’ll watch with you. Gotta see what Sean and Dan get up to.”

You sniffed. “It’s Sam and Dean and you know it. Don’t pretend you’re not as obsessed as I am.” The band around his heart loosened.

“Yeah sure. You want Chinese or Thai?” He fished his phone out from his pocket.

“Like you even have to ask.” You retorted.

——————

You felt like you were sitting next to a feral cat as the food coma finally set in. Empty boxes of food were scattered around the coffee table in front of you while yet another episode started up but it wasn’t as if you were paying any sort of attention to the screen in front of you.

Somehow, during your feast of questionable takeout, Bucky had migrated from where he had been perched on the other side of the couch to sitting beside you, the thick muscle of his thigh almost touching your knee where you were curled up. His blue eyes stayed glued to the TV while he sighed heavily and leaned back into the couch cushions.

You held your breath as his shoulders dropped, leaving barely an inch of space between you. This was the closest Bucky had ever gotten to you and you would be damned if you fucked this up. Of course you knew about his aversion to touch, you had even witnessed his violent response to it first hand but Jesus did you want to feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his body as he hugged you.

Bucky was undoubtedly your best friend out of all the Avengers yet he was the only one to have never felt your embrace. 

Your body trembled as you tried to keep yourself still. You didn’t want to accidentally brush against him and send him scrambling off but you also didn’t want to move away and give him the impression that you didn’t want him near you. And selfishly, you did want him beside you if only to fuel your hopeless crush on the man. 

There was a gunshot on the screen, startling you. You jumped and suddenly, you were half on top of Bucky. 

Your palm spread across the expanse of his stomach, letting you feel the hardness of his abs and the warmth that radiated off of him. The tip of your nose brushed against his as your eyes locked. You both stayed there for a second before the reality of the situation hit you squarely in the chest.

“Oh god Bucky I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You threw yourself back against the arm of the couch as panic bubbled up in your gut. Bucky remained frozen where he sat, both his hands slightly raised as he looked down at his lap. “Bucky I-“ Your voice was thick with tears. 

You shook your head as you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, desperately trying to keep them away. How stupid were you? You knew you should’ve just given him some more space, paid attention to the TV so you would know if something would startle you. Do literally anything else besides jumping on the man with severe trauma. You messed everything up.

“Doll,” Bucky cooed as his hand gently wrapped around your wrists, slowly pulling them down so he could look at you, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He chuckled softly, now bringing your hands into his lap so he could hold them.

“How could I ever be mad at you? I know it was an accident but more than that, I know you would never want to hurt me. I’m safe with you.” You could feel the slight tremble in his hands like he was struggling to keep touching you but Bucky refused to let go, he even shuffled closer to you. You nodded but stayed quiet. He finally smiled. “Besides, I think it’s time I got one of those famous Y/N hugs. Not now of course, I’m way too fucked up for that, but soon.”

“Don’t be mean to yourself Barnes,” you scolded, “lots of people hurt you. You get to be patient with healing. We just make small adjustments, build up to it y’a know.”

“Yeah, small adjustments.” His right hand slid into your left, your fingers intertwining as you both melted back into the couch, your eyes drifting back to your show that neither of you would be paying any attention to. After a few minutes, Bucky’s thumb began to rub against the skin of your knuckles, a delicate back and forth that both sent a flurry of butterflies into flight in your stomach and ignited your cheeks with a blazing heat.

Small adjustments indeed.

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[respectthepetty]

Is Dan's shadow a succubus? Or more appropriately an incubus?

Homie, how would I know?! I'm watching the same show as you. If I knew what that shadow was, I wouldn't need to suffer through the last seven episodes. I was too busy being scared for my life the first seven episodes to truly think about what that shadow was, and now I have to sit through seven more just like alls the rest of ya to figure this puzzle out!

But why are we gendering the shadow? Is the shadow male? To me, the shadow is just energy, possibly a physical manifestation of Dan's trauma; therefore, is it an extension of him. Like Peter Pan's shadow!

@kenjiyabuki went full big-brain and noticed the painting in the background of Brother Anurak's office is Henry Fuseli's The Nightmare.

Ain't no detective like a Tumblr detective.

And because of this, I immediately went to my favorite art historian (I go to departments often asking BL-related questions which is one perk of working in higher ed), and she immediately said, "It's about sex."

More specifically, repression of desire.

Not everyone subscribes to this interpretation, but . . .

There is a mirror and a vial of water in the left bottom corner on the table in the painting. Mirrors mean truth and serve as a bridge between the two worlds (truth/lie, life/death, conscious/subconscious), while water (describe as a mirror-like substance) also serves as a bridge between two worlds. We don't see the mirror fully, so we don't see the truth of the situation, but two worlds are colliding within the painting.

We've seen a good amount of mirrors in the show.

And water.

The show doesn't have a crazy-looking horse in the background unless we are considering the makruk pieces, which are called "horses" and not "knights" like in chess, the horse in this scenario.

That's a stretch even for me, but we still have the bare basics - a person with the weight of desire resting on him.

A desire to be comforted when nobody holds him.

A desire to be protected when he feels abandoned.

A desire to feel normal.

And Trin had the same desires.

There is definitely some funky business happening at the school because Trin and Dan are linked through their desires and experiences, but the shadow was there long before Dan stepped onto the campus.

Detour - In the third episode, the monk told Dan in order to change his karma, he needed to forgive when the time came after Dan saw his dad briefly playing makruk in his dream. At the end of that episode, Dan saw his father's ghost while he was acting the ghost scene from Hamlet, which is a play about revenge and forgiveness.

The shadow led Dan through a tour of his family's happiest moments in episode four right before he encountered his father again.

And his father asked for his forgiveness.

To which Dan said "hell to the no"

And this is why I think the shadow IS Dan. The monk told him to forgive to change his karma. The shadow led Dan to do just that, but Dan didn't; therefore, he didn't beat his karma and ghost-dad told Dan he was becoming everything he hated. Was this conversation all in Dan's head? Was he, through the shadow, guiding himself to be better than his father? And did he override his subconscious to seek revenge instead because that's what he truly desires?

More interestingly is what shows up every time someone chooses revenge over forgiveness - Trin! Rather than the shadow lurking in the water after Dan's dad died, Trin was waiting for him.

Trin was waiting for him in the bathroom to lead Dan into the funhouse when Nai decided to teach Anan a lesson.

And Trin showed up right before Anan attacked Dan.

Each time, the mirrors and water are present, so wouldn't that make Trin The Nightmare?

Of course, I, a color demon must mention how I find the use of red fascinating mostly when thinking about it in correlation to the painting since red is behind the nightmare figure.

And it spreads underneath the sleeping person in white as if that innocent person is being surrounded by this desire.

All of this is to basically sum up that Trin has a face. The shadow doesn't. Trin is a person. The shadow isn't. Just like those headless figurines the locals use as stand-ins for them to appease the wild ghosts and protect them from harm, Dan's faceless shadow could be his way of protecting himself and hiding his desires from outside forces.

And Trin could be a way to expose all that's hidden, including those desires.

[beatinginavoid]

Can you write something about a young man being stabbed to the heart and left to bleed out? He's still conscious as the tamponade compresses his heart muscle and someone eventually finds him and calls an ambulance. A dramatic resus scene ensues...

Hello, hello! Sorry for the long wait. I'm not big on resus, but I hope I did the request justice.

🗡️🫀

It was quick. It was all so fast. One moment Dan was leaving the building and walking to his car, the next someone else appeared seemingly from nowhere. It was late, and he had stayed behind at a café to try and enjoy a drink, some food, and some background ambience before going home.

A person, dressed entirely in dark clothes, had blindsided him. Silver flashed under the moonlight, then a sharp pain engulfed him. He had fallen to his knees and then collapsed onto his back.

So here he was, staring almost unseeingly at the night sky, the light pollution reducing the visible number of stars.

An odd warmth covered his chest. Dan raised his hands and clumsily patted across his chest. He looked at his palm to see glistening red liquid.

Oh. He was bleeding. That was bad, right?

His mind, whirling and confused, told him pressure – apply pressure. Dan found the spot that hurt the most and placed both hands over it, trying his best to press down. It was only then did he notice his hands were directly over his heart.

In that moment, the pain truly registered. Every beat of his heart panged in pain, every agonising thump pounding in his head as well as his chest.

This was bad. This was so bad. Dan knew nothing about medical things, but any idiot would know that getting stabbed in the heart was way up there on the bad scale. His lungs were still working, but his vocal cords had decided to take an impromptu vacation. Any attempts to call out for help were thwarted before they started.

He would likely die here, and some poor soul would trip over his cold corpse hours from now. What a dismal way to go. Crimson warmth pulsed underneath his palm at a steady rate. How long did it take the average person to bleed out? It would be quicker since the blood was being pumped directly from the heart – the centre of the circulatory system.

The process being fast meant it would be less painful until he no longer felt anything. Which was looking better and better as the pain in his chest started growing. Despite the blood leaking out of him, Dan’s chest began to feel tight, as if a band was around his ribs slowly compressing them tighter with every shaky, desperate breath.

His head felt strangely floaty, but his heart was sending clear signals to his brain. Every contraction of his cardiac muscle, every inflation and deflation of his lungs, was screaming inside his mind, cutting easily through all of the fog.

Each thump pounded even as it felt like a fist was around the pump, the fingers squeezing without relent. The beating in his head sounded muffled and breathing became more and more of a chore.

“Holy shit!”

A guy appeared over him, looming like a vulture, eyes wide and mouth open in horror. The man fumbled for a moment before bringing a phone up to his ear. Dan heard the word ambulance spoken amongst a bunch of gibberish and a tiny spark of hope lit up in his struggling heart.

His blood soaked hand was nudged aside and a folded jacket replaced it, two hands pushing it down far more firmly than Dan had managed. His breath hitched slightly and he groaned at the pressure and increased pain. Now it felt as though there was a heavy weight trying to crush his ribs from the front, even as the imaginary band around them squeezed the sides tighter.

Dan’s heart thudded awkwardly, feeling as though it skipped several beats, then stumbled its way through several more, before doggedly picking up the pace under the new onslaught.

The poor thing did not feel up to this challenge anymore. Although going faster, the beats did not feel as strong as before. Dan’s mind vividly conjured up the image of his cardiac muscle shaking and wobbling like a runner on their last legs, the blood barely being moved until the muscle spasmed once then fell still.

Was he dead?

No, no, he could still feel the organ pumping inside his chest.

How much longer could the injured and stressed heart keep going?

The guy’s face was looming in his blurred and shrinking field of vision again. The mouth was moving, but nothing seemed able to penetrate the cotton wool stuffed in his ears, and surrounding his brain, except for his own thoughts, shallow panting, and uncertain heartbeat.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpathump… ba-thump… ba-thump… ba-thumpthumpthumpthumpthump…… ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpathump…ba-thumpathump…ba-thumpathump………… ba-thump……… ba-thump…… ba-thump…… ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump…ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thumpba-thumpba-thumpbathumpbathumpbathumpBATHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP… BA-thump…BA-thump…ba-thumpathump…

There was no dancer in the world, no matter how talented, that would be able to dance to such an erratic, off-key, mess of percussion.

Dan could no longer feel his fingers or toes. If he was moving them, he couldn’t tell. Were they even still attached? His head felt so floaty that he wasn’t entirely sure it was still stuck to his neck. His neck, which was linked to his torso. His torso, that was being crushed, squashed, and squeezed relentlessly. The effects of which were making it very hard for his lungs to inflate like they should. His lungs, that surrounded his heart, were unable to give the beating muscle enough room for it to do its job adequately either. His heart, pierced, injured, somehow still gamely struggling along.

A struggle that was all too likely to end soon.

The guy was still hovering over him, still pressing down his chest, still talking. The words were no more audible than before, but now the man’s face was no longer in the dark. It was oddly alight, flickering quickly between red and blue, like he was in a colour limited rave.

Dan didn’t remember going to a rave. He had been in a nice, quiet café, right? Was he still there? No… No, he’d left. He was outside. That was right, outside in the cold. He didn’t feel cold. Shouldn’t he feel cold?

Not being cold didn’t feel bad though. So, it was a good thing, right?

Something about that set alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. But his mind was too fuzzy to properly register them, let alone dredge up the energy to do anything about it. Dan was tired. So, so tired.

Tired people should sleep, right? Sleep was healthy and important.

His eyes were halfway closed when a new blurry figure popped into view, also flickering red and blue. Their mouth was moving too, although Dan couldn’t hear them either.

Had the rave damaged his hearing? No, he hadn’t even been at a rave. He’d just established the events in his mind, hadn’t he? Ugh, thinking was hard.

His head, which he was ninety-nine percent sure was only hanging by a thread, pounded dully in time with the out of tune drum in his rib cage. It really was an awful beat - musicians would weep in sheer horror and frustration.

The guy pressing into the drum really needed to stop and let the poor instrument retire.

There was an odd sensation, and Dan swore as the pressure on his heart shifted. It was as if every fibre of the moving muscle was trying to beat while being pulled completely taut, the strain visceral despite the blood that slicked the whole surface. Things slid over his skin and an image of his ribs being exposed popped into his mind.

If someone were to crack his ribs and spread them, Dan would be grateful. It would probably do wonders to help alleviate that vice grip they were currently held in. The world flickered in and out, black, red, grey, and blue cycling around and around.

Voices still eluded him, but high-pitched beeps broke through the muffling silence. They sounded random and quickly became irritating. Dan gasped fitfully as his lungs stuttered, unable to do their job. The lack of oxygen quickly affected his already stressed body, and his heart grew weaker with each irregular beat, the muscle pulsing slower and less effectively until it grew still.

The darkness swallowed Dan and he knew it would never again be light for him. His chest was no longer tight at least.

“We’re losing him!” said one of the paramedics as the heart monitor line fell flat.

“There might be too much damage,” said the other paramedic.

The first shook his head. “There has to be something else wrong. The blood pressure didn’t match the cardiac output. I think…”

He dug into the large bag next to him and took out an imposing looking needle. He pulled the cover off the metal tip and plunged it into the flesh near the stab wound in Dan’s chest. The plunger was slowly pulled back, dark red blood filling up the empty space it created.

“Of course, a cardiac tamponade,” the second said ruefully. They immediately began chest compressions, the blood-slicked surface threatening to slide their hands out of position.

Blood dribbled out of the stab wound with every press, Dan’s life hanging in the balance with every forced, artificial beat.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…

Would it ever beat on its own again?

[grison-in-space]

You know, I was just thinking about the It Get Better Project. It rolled out when I was in college, and I distinctly remember my college Lambda Alliance* holding it with a certain level of sardonic, bitter cynicism. We were all pretty conscious of exactly how hard "it gets better" weighs when you're actively in the process of making it better. And that process can be heartbreaking. I was still under the impression that I could find out some way to come out to my parents that would make them want to listen to me and, like, give the tiniest shit about what I was feeling about anything. (The answer was no, but to be fair it's not like anyone gave the tiniest shit about what I felt before that either.)

I knew other people who had strained relationships with family, too. Or, well, we all lived in the South, and like all young adults we were considering whether we were going to flee to a more friendly state or what. The thing about interstate moves is that they're terrifying and expensive and have no guarantee of success, and that's never truer than when you aren't sure how much you can lean on a support network.

In 2010, there was this optimistic air that gay rights were just marching along with the passing of the years like an automatic rolling out of morality; it had been almost thirty years since the first traumatic shock of AIDS hit queer communities, and the enormous backlash against trans folks hadn't started to swing yet. To be honest, that's how that project landed. I mean, I know that as an ace twenty one year old, I'd never been all that impressed by Dan Savage. I never had any sense that anything was going to be better for me unless I rolled up my sleeves and took part in the collective labor of making it happen. And I remember talking to my friends at that Lambda Alliance about that.

It's hard to put your trust in things being sure to get better when you're actively putting in all the painful labor of making it better today, both by trying to advocate for other folks in your life and by changing things about yours. Like, how can you be sure "it will get better" when you're fighting for your family to accept you, and the thing that actually makes your life better is to stop trying? You have a lot more power as an adult, but sometimes all that means is the power to flee your home and become a wandering fugitive until you can find or make a new one. It's not the kind of thing you promise a kid, I thought then. But maybe I'm just too cynical.

So now I'm curious about people who weren't me. Bonus if you feel called to explain why.

*IDK, maybe we were all a pack of radicals? It was a state school in the South and at least four people at that time went on to careers of advocacy and activism; maybe we weren't representative? And I'm not counting me, but I've also published on queering biology, so... maybe I should, who knows.

[angelbroad]

Khaji-Da: Infliltrator

Summary: A darker turn in the 2023 movie where Khaji-Da was not damaged.

It had been a while since it landed on Earth, too long. Khaji-Da had been sent to Earth to scout it as a possible future colony for the Reach, where it landed without much issue. Its first host had been amongst the Mayans, where it discovered how gullible 'humans' could be. All it had to do was say the right words through the host which it contolled, and the lower life forms viewed it as God-sent.

But that was one of many hosts, you just never forget your first on a new planet target. Over the centuries, Khaji-Da had seen civilizations rise and crumble, hosts dying sooner than a lot of species the scarab had encountered in deep space, but at some point, their technology begun to improve. It was nowhere near the brilliance of the Reach, but it was somewhat acceptable. At least Khaji-Da would not have to see the humans in less than accommodating quarters and the most advanced objects being metal sticks.

Khaji-Da did not have a host for a long time after that, its last one dying alone in the ruins of her own pathetic civilization in Egypt. It did not have a host until Dan Garret came along. Khaji-Da decided to wait, bond with the man in private and continue its mission of gathering intel for the Reach to use upon arrival. However, this Garret host had an annoyingly persistent companion.

Ted Kord.

Khaji-Da never liked Ted Kord, which proved a challenge as it had to act like they were friends so as to not give away its identity. But despite this, it could tell Kord was not buying its performance fully, all leading up to the day Khaji-Da's host was captured. Something they had consumed caused the neurological functions of their host to cease, but the scarab was still conscious to that understand Kord finally found out about its existence.

But he did not try to remove it, no, instead Kord experimented on it while it was still buried in his friend's spine. Khaji-Da would refuse to engage in conversation, aside from the occasional snarling. Kord was still convinced he could reach his friend, despite seeing for himself that Khaji-Da had coiled around Garret's brain completely. The scarab would sometimes alter its host's biology, just to torment the man who believed he could do good by reverse engineering its technology. He would never rival the power of the Reach by pulling form a mere Infiltrator.

Khaji-Da had kept a few key notes on Kord. He had a Military Tech Company, he had a wife, and an offspring. A child, they would call it here. Khaji-Da had never left the basement of Kord's estate, staying in this 'Beetle Cave', but it could pick up movement upstairs, the sounds of footsteps and the occasional louder voice.

"Your offspring is being loud today. Well, louder than usual.", it had commented one day, making Ted flinch.

"...My kid is none of your business."

Khaji-Da chuckled, the automated reverb of its voice spilling out a bit. "You have me in your house, Kord, you cannot expect me to not be involved in your affairs."

"You have been ever since you grabbed Dan as your 'host'.", Ted said through gritted teeth, clenching his hands around the tools he was holding. 'Kabloom Bubblegum'...stupid name, wasn't it? He looked over at the scarab. Dan's body was placed in a way where his back was to Ted, exposing the scarab burrowed in his back. His limbs were locked into place, and believe him it had taken a long time for him to make restrains that would contain the scarab armor. Ted sighed, "I forgot to pick her up from school...again."

Ted had to try hard not to cry when the scarab burst into a fit of laughter. He was a terrible dad, and he knew it-hell, the Scarab knew it. He would call it Scarab, he didn't know if it had a name and frankly he didn't care. It had all been too much, everything combined was taking a heavy toll on him. He missed his old friend, his wife...his daughter.

One day, something unprecedented happened. A man from the future came, one Michael Carter, and asked him for help. Ted Kord wanted to help, but he knew he could not just leave this dangerous machine out and about, especially if Jenny could find it in the house. He had asked 'Booster Gold' to wait for a while. He had a plan prepared, one that unfortunately would lead to blood on his hands and leaving his Jenny at the hands of Victoria.

He would hide the Scarab, even make decoys so no one would ever find it. But while it had a body, it posed a threat. So...Ted did the unthinkable.

"Scarab."

"..."

"Scarab."

"Kord."

Ted looked at the many tools he had prepared. He did not know if it could see them or not. He had the decoys prepared, and now he just needed the real deal to hide it in Antarctica.

"The only way to remove you...would kill the host."

"Affirmative.", Khaji-Da did not understand why the man was asking it this. He already knew-

The Scarab felt pain. It was being ripped out of the host's body with a large and sharp object that could have doubled as one of its own blades. It fell on the floor with a clank, no longer able to move as Garret's bloody corpse fell limp in its restrains. Khaji-Da could hear Kord sobbing, at least both got to suffer a loss from this incident.

Khaji-Da had been inside a concrete ball in the Antarctic for a little over fifteen years, until is was found again by another Kord. The members of this bloodline seemed to be getting worse and worse. Now, it had the displeasure to hear Victoria Kord proudly parade this project of completely copying the functions of the Scarab. It was a laughable thought, somehow it had come across a Kord more delusional than Ted. Their species' technology had come far, that was true, but if she hoped to achieve the power its creators held, she was in for a very massive disappointment.

Unfortunately, there were bad news on its part too. No human that it had been passed to thus far proved to be a suitable host. They were sure 'Carapax' would have made a perfect Infiltrator, but something about the man did not sit right with Khaji-Da. The man had too much of an iron will, his brain would be difficult to coil around. Eventually, when it had been placed on an awkward machine meant to extract its code, Khaji-Da was found by a new face. It had recognised the woman as Jennifer Kord, Ted's child. Perhaps Khaji-Da could take her over, it would surely give it an advantage over Victoria's Industries. But alas, she was not the one. Khaji-Da will admit, she did help it escape the facility, by putting it in a burger box. The Scarab could not see what was going on outside of the confines of the package, but could hear as Kord gave it to someone called 'Jaime', and told him to guard it with his life.

The next time Khaji-Da got to see something outside of its greasy confines had been when Jaime had brought it to his residence, his familial units chanting in unison for him to open the box. Ah, finally. The familial unit number appeared to be quite large, which gave Khaji-Da more options to pick from. It was a little annoyed when the female next to Jaime called it a let-down, Earth-speak for disappointing.

It had been picked up by her first, but Khaji-Da would not settle for this one. Too annoying for its liking. Then it had been tossed over to an older man next to Jaime, he had good qualities like technological aptitude, but Khaji-Da did not like the fact that he was so unkempt. Finally, Jaime reached out to grab it when 'Rudy' had suggested to open it up with a drill, and oh...Khaji-Da immediately roared to life in Jaime's palm. This one was in ripe physical condition, easier-going, and clever with quite the imagination. One downside was the host's pacifism, but it's not like he would have any say in anything. Jaime said he thinks Khaji-Da liked him, and he had been right.

Khaji-Da lept on his face, earning screams of terror from everyone including its future host. Khaji-Da tried to guide Jaime away from the wall so it could find his back, having to knock back Rudy when he tried to remove it. Finally, it reached Jaime's back, proceeding with the grotesque first transformation. It could have done it later, but it wanted to stretch, and terrify the family even more while it was at it. While the armor spread around the body, Khaji-Da oddly enough felt...pleasure. Yes, this was the host it liked the most so far. It had fallen down on the table, the water around them sizzling as it got up. The family was asking for Jaime, but he was not here, not anymore. Khaji-Da walked forward, catching their reflection on a portrait of a strangely painted woman.

Perf-What the...fu-

What?? Khaji-Da held their head. No, something was wrong. Impossible!

Wh-What's happening??

'Hello, Jaime.', Khaji-Da said through the mind link. No, this was all wrong, their host was not supposed to be here!

"Jaime?", one of the familial units asked, making Khaji-Da turn their head rapidly.

The family jumped back, and Khaji-Da properly scanned them before beginning systems check, bursting a hole through the roof much to their host's dismay. Its host was loud during the entire systems check. A little annoying, but Khaji-Da would manage.

'Host: overreacting'

Overreacting?? You kidnapped me!

'Nonsense. You are my host, you are meant to comply.'

Your what-?

Khaji-Da had fallen on a car and cut a bus in half, but managed to return to the host's residence. The family rushed towards them, and Khaji-Da took off just the helmet. Rocio could immediatelly tell something was wrong. Her son's eyes weren't yellow.

'Your family is aware of me.'

I can tell!

'Should I greet them?'

Just...please don't hurt them...

Khaji-Da raised an arm, the family stiffening a little.

"Greetings.", it said in Jaime's voice, "I am Khaji-Da of the Reach. I have taken your Jaime's body as my host."

...

...

...You couldn't be more blunt, could you?

It had taken a while for the family to calm down, so much so it had gone dark outside. Khaji-Da had created clothing articles for Jaime from the tar, they could not have him nude.

"So...my brother has an alien parasite on his back...", Milagro had said, which made Khaji-Da frown.

"Nonsense. I am a computer."

"But you are from aliens."

"Affirmative."

"God it...it feels so weird!"

"How so?"

Milagro looked at them with so much anger in her eyes, Jaime actually made a noise of fear inside their shared head-space.

"How so? How so?? You are an alien machine using my brother's body as a meatsuit!"

Khaji-Da scoffed, "Please. This one is more than sufficient to my needs."

"Really?", Milagro asked, hands on her hips.

"I do not settle for people like yourself."

Before Milagro could respond, Rocio walked into the kitchen. She looked close to bursting into a screaming fit as she had her eyes tightly closed and was pinching the bridge of her nose.

"...What was your name?", she asked.

"I already told you-"

"What was your name?", Rocio asked again, more impatiently.

Look, if you're going to have my body, you need to hear me out.

'Why would I ever-?'

Just...answer her.

'Our mission has already be compromised-'

Maldita sea, hermano! Just tell her!

Khaji-Da groaned before reluctantly responding, "...My serial number is 'Khaji-Da'."

Rocio finally lifted her hand from her face to look at them, "Khaji-Da...is my son in there?"

After a minute of silence, Khaji-Da touched a finger on the side of their head.

"Somewhere up here, weirdly enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?", Rudy asked.

Khaji-Da rolled their eyes, "I am meant to take full control of my host, they are not supposed to be conscious-"

"So you are telling me there was a chance my son would be completely braindead??"

Khaji-Da actually flinched at that. This woman had a strong voice. They shook their head and composed themselves.

"Look, Reyes. I am only doing my function-"

"I don't care!", Rocio cut them off, "I just want to know if my son is safe!"

Khaji-Da swallowed, only ever used to being cut off by superiors.

'...Are you safe?'

I...think? I can't move my body, but I can still see and hear.

"Your son is perfectly fine. He can still see and hear you."

Rocio let out a shaky sigh as she slumped against the wall, hands covering her face. Milagro went over to hold her, as did Rudy, as an attempt at comforting her.

Wait...Jenny Kord!

'What of her?

She might know how to remove you!

Khaji-Da scoffed a laugh, turning a few heads.

'Do not bother. You cannot remove me.'

Like I'm supposed to believe you.

'You would be wise to, Jaime Reyes.'

"Okay, computadora.", Rudy said as he was walking up to Khaji-Da, "Who gave you to Jaime?"

"Jennifer Kord, a little after stealing me herself from the Kord building."

The man nodded, "Bien entonces.", he then walked off, the family units asking where he was going. After getting confirmation he was heading for the Kord building, Khaji-Da sat in the kitchen, Nana Reyes cautiously offering a liquid produce. Tea, they called it.

As Khaji-Da was consuming the beverage, they received a ping in their head, which made them get up and move towards Jaime's room. Milagro followed them, stationing herself outside the bedroom door. Khaji-Da shifted the civilian clothing back to the armor to properly receive the message.

"Infiltrator: serial number Khaji-Da, respond."

"Lieutenant: serial number Loxz-ha, responding."

Finally.

W-Who is that-

"Hello, Lieutenant. Has the fleet arrived?"

"Not yet, Infiltrator. A small force has entered the rim of the solar system while under cloaking. I and General: serial number Djo-Zha have been sent to Earth to retrieve you for information."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I fear I will need to be seen for repairs."

"Inquire problem."

"Host's consciousness still present."

"Unprecedented. Do you still hold neurological functions over the host?"

"Affirmative."

"Excellent. Only a minor setback. We shall inform the superiors and have you looked over as soon as our schedule allows."

"Taken. I will be contacting you again if further information is needed."

"Affirmative."

And with that, the call ended. Khaji-Da turned the armor back to clothes as they heard a bloodcurdling scream from outside. It had turned out to be Rudy Reyes. He had retrieved Jenny Kord, who he had seen outside the Kord building. They had been chased by soldiers, it seemed, since most of the shouting involved the car being ruined. Jenny immediately turned to Jaime when she saw him, a look of worry and then shame as she turned her head down. Rudy had a lot to get out of his chest regarding the Kord company, at least that was one good quality about him.

"Where is it?", Jenny asked, referring to the scarab before realising what was wrong with Jaime's eyes.

"Greetings, Jennifer Kord."

"You...know my name-"

"Your father kept me in your home's basement."

"...Holy shit-"

"Milagro.", Rocio interrupted.

Jenny shook her head, "But..how-?"

"Allow me.", Rudy said before taking off his boot and throwing it to the spice drawer next to Khaji-Da, who only turned their eyes to look at it.

"I thought they would come out again.", was what he had to say.

Khaji-Da answered Jenny's question by turning around and creating a hole on the clothing articles, exposing its actual body burrowed deep inside Jaime's spine. They could hear gasping and Milagro gagging before fixing the shirt and turning around. All they had as a follow-up response was a shrug. The next time they spoke was when Jenny was answering what it was.

"It was given to my dad when I was a kid, I think. It's...some kind of world-destroying weapon."

"That is a bit exaggerated.", Khaji-Da responded.

"So you are not a world-destroying weapon?", Milagro asked.

"I am only a scout."

You are not a world-ending weapon?

'No.'

Jaime let out a sigh of relief before Khaji-Da cut it off.

'I am a world-conquering weapon. They ought to get it right.'

What??

The group behind them was trying to figure out a plan, eventually Jenny believing she knew a way to remove it. Khaji-Da knew this was utter nonsense, but they could use some entertainment while waiting for their superiors.

"I know where we could find answers. But we need the key."

"Where is they key?", Khaji-Da asked.

"...At the Kord building. And they're probably on high alert since I took the scara...you."

Khaji-Da shrugged, "Alright."

Rudy even offered a way to jam the security systems, surprisingly. They swear, the man's hate against Kord was almost as great as their own. And the machine did end up working, despite its primitive appearance.

"Hearing your aunt's voice is an assault to my hearing receptors.", Khaji-Da commented.

Jenny agreed, and told Khaji-Da exactly how the company came to be in the woman's hands before helping her retrieve the key. 'Tedwatch', Khaji-Da cringed at the invention as the two walked out.

"Why did my dad keep you downstairs?", Jenny asked.

"...He wished to use my functions. Unfortunately for him, I was bonded with Dan Garret at the time."

"You were...in a person when you were there?"

Khaji-Da chuckled, "What? You think the screams I would let out at night to scare you was your imagination?"

Jenny looked forward, terrified. She had believed in the boogeyman for a long time because of those mechanical screams and scrapes. Heavy footsteps made a new presence known ahead.

Ignacio Carapax. Joy.

"The Scarab.Now."

Khaji-Da looked bored as they rolled their eyes, a stark contrast to Jenny's fear. The Lieutenant begun running towards the two, Khaji-Da waiting for the right moment to catch the punch and transform properly.

"Hola, Ignacio.", they said before punching him to the statue nearby with such force it had fallen off the pedastal.

Jenny looked at them in disbelief.

"Find Rudy Reyes.", they said, and Jenny complied.

Khaji-Da looked on as Carapax took off his jacket and pressed a button on the back of his head, bits of armor emerging. Khaji-Da raised an eyebrow.

Is it...something like you?, Jaime asked.

"You are going to regret that.", Carapax growled as he shot a rocket at them, which Khaji-Da easily blocked with a shield.

"No.", Khaji-Da responded out loud, "Just a cheap imitation."

They then charged at the man, tackling him to the nearby parking lot and through a truck. A large blast from a flamethrower knocked them back and onto a car.

W-Wait wait wait. We're not gonna fight this guy, right??, Jaime asked.

'We clearly will.'

Wait-

Jaime did not finish as Carapax attempted to get the better of them by shooting bullets at them, but Khaji-Da merely pushed the car towards him, sandwiching the man between two vehicles. They continued to slam him with the one car against the other repeatedly. But Carapax, got them off by shooting rockets at them from a source on his back. It had knocked Khaji-Da back, but did not stop them from continuing to fight Carapax in close combat. Khaji-Da had turned one hand to a sonic blast and blasted Carapax back and through the parking lot wall.

Khaji-Da hummed as they walked towards Carapax.

"I must say, that was rather disappointing.", their arms sprung into blades, which sparked as they brushed the concrete road.

What are-What are you doing-?

Khaji-Da used one of the blades to tilt the man's head to face them.

"Such a shame.", they rose the blade up, making it very clear they would kill Carapax.

No! Wait-!

'Eliminating threat.'

I'm not a killer!

'You have no autonomy, Jaime Reyes. You are-'

The sound of a horn blaring La Cucaracha broke Khaji-Da's attention, turning to see the truck speeding towards them. Khaji-Da sighed before feeling a hit on their abdomen. Carapax had regained his composure and continued landing hits as Khaji-Da was forced to put away their blades. They were grabbed by the foot and slammed into a car, breaking a few ribs. No matter, they could repair the body. But that drew their attention elsewhere as Carapax dragged them towards the sidewalk and pressed a boot on the side of their head. Khaji-Da growled, the noise inhuman. Carapax took off his helmet.

"What...are you?"

No, this host would not die. He was too perfect for Khaji-Da to let go. Khaji-Da refused to answer, instead ready to cut off the man's leg before headlights illuminated him. Khaji-Da turned their gaze to see the truck coming to an abrupt stop and El Chapulin being launched out of the truck bed, hitting Carapax and sending him flying down the street. Khaji-Da shook their head as they sat up, reluctantly getting in the truck. This decision would bite them later, they knew it would.

They ended up in Kord's Estate once more, now looking much more decrepit. They would try to find information inside the Cave, which Rudy was more than happy to be in, gleeful even. Khaji-Da stayed in their armor, only the helmet off as they looked at the familiar surroundings. They winced as they caught sight of the operating table they were strapped in, for years, dried blood still staining it.

Not a lot of good experiences here, huh?

'I had some. tormenting the man was always the highlight of my day.'

...Of course it was.

'Don't act so surprised.'

"I got it.", Rudy said, turning Jenny's attention to him. Khaji-Da stayed where they were, waiting for them to figure it out themselves.

Aren't you gonna go there too?

'No need.'

But-

"Okay...I figured out how to get it out.", Rudy said, "Jaime's got to be dead."

Jenny froze, and so did Jaime with his limited existence. Rudy turned to Khaji-Da.

"But I got a feeling you ain't surprised."

Khaji-Da offered a smile, a very unsettling smile, in Rudy's opinion.

"If you knew, you could have told us!", Jenny said.

"I knew you would not believe me.", Khaji-Da shrugged with the smile that seemed to be signature, "Looks like you will be stuck with me until further notice.", they simply said before leaving for the roof.

The next time Jaime spoke to Khaji-Da was on the roof. Khaji-Da looked ahead at the bright lights of the progressive part of Palmera City. Maybe not so much of an ugly world after all.

...Why?

"Hm?"

Why are you even here?

Khaji-Da always kept that smile on, even as they explained their purpose.

"I am an Infiltrator.", it answered, "I was sent here to gather information about your planet."

So you can conquer it., Jaime concluded, remembering the Scarab's earlier comment.

"Precisely! Ah, do not be so sour, I will take care of your family."

If anything happend to them, I swear to god I'll-

"You'll what, Jaime Reyes?", Khaji-Da asked, "You are a prisoner in your own body. It matters not that you can somehow speak to me, merely a minor setback. You are mine, Jaime Reyes. Best to accept it."

Jaime fell silent after that, Khaji-Da humming as they leaned on the concrete balcony wall. The sounds of a helicopter flying above caught their attention. It was Kord, but they were not heading for them. Strange.

...Home.

"Hm?"

She must know where I live.

"It would seem so."

Aren't you going to do anything?

"What would you have me do?", Khaji-Da asked nonchalantly, looking at their fingers without much care. If anything, they would be harder to track down.

Jaime was panicking. O-Okay, look., he said, There...there might be more people you can actually kill there!

Khaji-Da perked up. "You will not pester me about not being a killer?"

I won't. Just save my family-

"Say 'please'."

Jaime would swallow if he had a mouth.

...Please, save my family.

Khaji-Da cracked their neck before making the helmet snap back on, flying towards the Reyes at max speed. They arrived at the scene of a large group of military outside the residence, a barricade which they easily broke through with a battering ram.

Milagro struggled to look up due to the lights, "Khaji-Da?"

"Your saviour is here.", Khaji-Da replied with a bow.

Victoria could not believe her eyes. This was magnificent! She had ordered the soldiers to fire at the kid, but it was quickly realised he was bulletproof. When the aim was directed at the Reyes family instead, Khaji-Da dropped down and extended their wings to be used as shields. After confirming the family's well-being, one of their arms transformed into a plasma cannon, and tore through almost all the soldiers. They ordered the family to evacuate as they fought with two plasma cannons, kicking and punching the humans occasionally for the fun of it. They found that the human body was extremely fun to utilise, mostly due to this 'adrenaline' chemical. They even stabbed a man through with a double blade and blasted his body away with electricity. Jaime felt like he would puke from the violence.

The constant that was the voice of their host reminded them of the his family's safety. Those frivolous distractions caused Khaji-Da's attention to be stretched thin, allowing Carapax to catch them with a claw. Khaji-Da snapped their helmet off, feeling their strength leaving them. What was this??

-----

Jenny Kord had taken the family to the Estate, but just before they entered the building, a male voice stopped them.

"Greetings, Kord."

The group turned around to see a peculiar looking man...or rather alien, accompanied by two others who were for sure human, their eyes the same glow as Jaime's with the Scarab on. The alien was taller than the girl with the purple mullet and shorter than the bald man with the tattoos. He had green skin and an odd trenchcoat with no sleeves. The fabric around his arms looked almost mechanical as it lead to an article of clothing inside, while his chest displayed the logo on the Scarab armor's chest. He was holding a walking stick as he addressed the confused group.

"We have much to discuss."

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

Khaji-Da was strapped to a device yet again, upside down no less. This 'Sanchez' was working in close proximity, clealy nervous to be around Khaji-Da, who would let out the occassional beetle noise to scare him. They were eventually rolled around, no longer upside down as Victoria addressed them.

"Now. the Scarab chose you, that is true. But it doesn't belong to you, it belongs to me."

Khaji-Da frowned at her, snarling.

"U-Um, miss Kord, there is something weird here."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, the military had ran a backround check-"

"We did find the family, what more is there?"

"Jaime Reyes doesn't have yellow eyes."

Victoria paused for a moment, looking at Jaime before jumping back as they lashed at her, the restrains stopping them.

"Get your own toy, Kord.", Khaji-Da hissed, making sure the venom in its voice was clear as it spoke her name, "Both him and I belong to the Reach."

Kord actually looked disturbed for a moment before walking behind the console.

"Transfer the code."

Khaji-Da felt like they were being split apart, but did not let it show that they were in pain.

You can shout if you want to-

'Showing weakness is not the way of the Reach!'

What are you talking about-

'I am not giving you or my dignity up to mere meat!'

This had gone on for a while, the massive amounts of electrical shocks coming to a stop eventually. Khaji-Da finally got to breathe, and eavesdrop on Sanchez as he frantically looked over Jaime's vitals, which Khaji-Da was fighting hard to keep running.

"Their brainwaves are syncronised.", he told Kord, "They are essentially one."

Yes...finally. True symbiosis.

What does this mean?

'We are one. Now, you will certainly never be rid of me until you expire.'

That moment, something shook the island, Kord ordering for a screen to display the camera feed. What the people inside the room witnessed made all but one distressed. A large, squid-like ship had landed on the island, glowing green as the soldiers surrounded it with guns locked and ready. The door to the ship opened, Kord telling them to hold their fire as the first person to step out was someone Carapax recognised.

"Nadine.", he croaked from his spot on the chair.

Khaji-Da chuckled, noticing the dead yellow eyes of their Lieutenant. Poor fool. Another human followed, the General, likely, and finally the Negotiator. Kord ordered the soldiers to fire, but the bullets never reached the Negotiator as the two Scarabs next to him used shields to block the lead. Khaji-Da craned their head at Carapax.

"Looks like a family reunion, Ignacio."

Carapax wanted to rip off the transfer wire and punch that smug grin off that thing's face so bad! The soldiers stopped firing once the Black Scarab shot a plasma blast their way.

"Now now.", the Negotiator said, "No need for violence, we are not savages, are we?"

The soldiers lowered their weapons, the Green Scarab shooting them a commanding glare. The Negotiator looked forward.

"Victoria Kord, I am aware you can hear me.", all eyes in the room where on the woman now as the alien continued to speak, "What you have in your possession is property of the Reach. We demand that you comply and hand both our Infiltrator and its host to us, otherwise we will be forced to use lethal force."

The woman however, despite the transfer being complete, didn't seem to want to give this opportunity up. Communicating her refusal to the soldiers so they could relay it to the Negotiator.

"Miss Kord has refused your demands, sir!", a soldier shouted.

The Negotiator simply sighed and nodded at the Scarabs, who were now fully transforming.

"Llingndnd ssheerne anndnd.", he said, before he walked back to the ship.

"U-Um, what did he say?", Sanchez asked Khaji-Da.

Khaji-Da turned to him with a smile, "Translating: Kill them all."

This was soon made clear as Djo-Zha opened several holes on their body, rockets firing from them and blowing everything they came across to smithereens. Djo-Zha looked down at Loxz-Ha and nodded. Loxz-Ha returned their nod as they spinted forward to break inside the facility, leaving Djo-Zha to clear the outside as the camera feed cut off. Carapax was in the process of transforming as a loud sound echoed through the halls. The stone of the fortress was not enough to hold back a Commanding Unit of the Reach.

Loxz-Ha burst into the testing room just as Carapax finished his tranformation, now a fully operational OMAC unit. Loxz-Ha fired a couple of tacs at the three individuals inside, pining them to the walls as they rushed to Khaji-Da to release their Infiltrator.

"You need to do better, Khaji-Da."

"I apologise for my incompetence, Lieutenant.", Khaji-Da said as they rubbed their freed wrists.

"No matter. We must-"

Before Loxz-Ha could finish their sentence, they were rammed through the wall by an escaped Carapax.

"Lieutenant!"

"Go! I shall take care of this myself!"

As much as Khaji-Da wanted to fight Carapax themselves, they followed their Lieutenant's instructions. But before that, they walked over to the trapped Kord, snatching the code from her and breaking it in their hand.

"We don't think so.", they said before making their way out.

Meanwhile, Carapax and Loxz-Ha had barreled through many walls. Carapax knew who was behind that armor, and he was aware that Scarab was controlling her, and that fact alone made his hits weaker than his opponent's. The fight was brutal, the two hiting each other over and over again until Carapax landed a series of hits strong enough to shatter the helmet, and brought a blade down to split the body at the shoulder. A robotic scream rang out from it, disturbing enough to make Carapax back away. He watched as the thing stitched itself back together.

"Come on, Ignacio.", it said, smiling at him with a mix of Nadine's voice and its own robotic reverb, "All we wanna do is kill you."

Khaji-Da made their way outside, where the greens and browns of the island had turned red from Djo-Zha's spree.

"Infiltrator: Khaji-Da.", they addressed, "Finally."

Khaji-Da saluted, "General: Djo-Zha."

Just then, two figures burst through the wall, the one standing being Loxz-Ha as they drove their blade through Carapax's helmetless head. They turned to Khaji-Da.

"Has the copy of your code been destroyed?"

"Affirmative."

"Good.", they then turned to the General, "There are more OMAC systems underground."

"Then we shall destroy the island itself to be rid of any witnesses as well."

The three then boarded the ship, which disposed of a strange and large object on its way up. It wasn't until they had reached a certain level in the sky that the device activated, setting the island up in flames and burning everything to ash.

In space, Jaime was frantically questioning everything. Yes, his family was safe and back in the Keys, Kord would likely take care of them out of guilt. No, he would not die during the evaluation procedure. No, Loxz-ha was not looking at them a certain way because they hated Jaime.

Khaji-Da looked on into space from the hall windows. Jaime commented it was beautiful.

'We shall see more of space, and much more vibrant skies, soon as we finish our work here.'

But...my family will stay safe, won't they?

'If I said yes, would you trust me?'

I...think? You heard me out when I asked you to save them back there.

'I did do that.'

...Thank you, Khaji-Da.

Khaji-Da shuddered, holding onto their shoulder blade as they smiled at the praise. Something about this felt...good. The scientists had figured there was nothing wrong with Khaji-Da itself, it was only the will of their host that allowed him to still communicate with it. The Scarab was fine with this, as was the Negotiator. It did not interfere with the Scarab's performance.

"Worry not, Jaime Reyes.", Khaji-Da said, "The Reach, is here to save you."

[13thdoctorposts]

Kerblam seems to be a constant source of reasoning to why the whole era is bad so I wrote down my thoughts.

Since the contention is the end speech I'll address my thoughts on that.

It’s clear when you listen to the whole speech the Doctor is talking about the Kerblam system she even says it, ‘Erode people’s trust in automation’ aka Kerblam AI system, capitalism isn’t an automation system it’s an economic system and Charlie is blaming the Kerblam AI system for the broader system of capitalism, but the Doctor is pretty clear though out she’s talking about Kerblam.

He think’s if he proves ‘technology is imperfect’ aka the Kerblam system it will make people think automation is bad, which will lead to the downfall of capitalism, and using a higher precent of human workers, I doubt it would but mass murder terrorist logic, terrorism rarely has its desired outcome. 

The Doctor is saying the Automation system of Kerblam isn’t bad, it asked her for help, it knew something was wrong, a capitalist system is an economic one, has no ‘intelligence’ to ask for help, so of course wouldn’t have a conscious, so she’s clearly not talking about capitalism. 

However the Kerblam system does have AI and so to an extent does have its original program conscious that it would have learnt and built on over time… not killing workers and customers is probably a big no no to Kerblam’s conscious, its the people who exploit Kerblam, aka decided it means only 10% of people can work there, or use it to kill people… that are the problem.

It’s not Kerblam’s fault that the leaders of Kandoka or its owners decided on a 10% human workforce, that is the leadership (people), they are the problem here. So when she says people are the problem not the system she is correct in the situation she is referring too... the Kerblam AI system. But I actually think the important message they are trying to get across is mass murder/violence/terrorism/the killing of innocent people isn’t the right way to go about change, and on that peoples opinions may vary, but no one every talks about. Sometimes its like people act like Charlie is a good guy in all this even though we know he's already killed a number of workers, like Dan leaving Dan's daughter fatherless and then wants to kill a bunch of other regular people who probably like Charlie have no power in the system. I wonder how many people complaining would like to be killed by a terrorist in a probably pointless attempt to bring down our capitalist system? That is what the Doctor stopped, she stopped mass murder, and yet people make out like she's the bad guy here.

[kayetra-spade-queen]

Because @drawnfamiliarfaces got me into their AU rabbit hole of a variant version of the Teen Heroes™, I hope they don't mind of me making my own variant (I'm self-conscious, please excuse me-).

First and foremost, I can't draw, at least not to the extent of completely fleshing out a sketch out of my ass (ok- I can, but only a single eye, and even then it looks like shit to me-). I can draw clothing better than making a full body to make a whole ass scene. Comics are out the window cuz I will suffer.

Second, it'll probably be more on writing than making fanarts.

Third, I didn't watch the majority of the other characters' respective shows. I watched Danny Phantom a bit because of Nicktoons, and Ben 10 because of the same person who got me into starting this whole thing. I'll probably get my own snips and bits of necessary info from the wiki, but don't expect any accuracy, and I'd appreciate if anyone could dump some info that could prove to be very necessary for me.

Fourth, this is an entire AU itself, so I'm mostly not gonna follow canon at most. There will be stories I will try to twist to my liking.

Fifth, ships. Yes, but bear with me here; thanks to my overconsumption of media, I will be putting just a few ships that I think are neat, but if anyone disagrees with me or didn't like how I didn't mention a ship they like (cuz I barely knew shit about the characters), then please just either move away from my blog, or block me entirely to avoid unwanted conflict. We all have our interests that make us happy, the least you could do is to respect and/or completely don't interact.

Sixth, the clothing are gonna filled with my own personal headcanons, mostly their clothing when they battle (the characters themselves too, but I'm gonna focus more on the clothes because I'm a fashion illustrator). Danny, Ben, and Randy are gonna wear heels because yes.

The ships involved;

Tigerghost (Manny Rivera from El Tigre x Danny Fenton from Danny Phantom) (I completely blame izbubbles for this one)

Benrex (Rex Salazar from Generator Rex x Ben Tennyson from Ben 10) (surprised? Probably not lmfao-)

Jimmytimmy (Timmy Turner x Jimmy Neutron) (first and foremost; no, none of the Nicktoons (Jimmy, Timmy, SpongeBob, and Manny) except Danny and Jenny are part of this team. Danny and Jenny still go on missions with the NU team because duh. And second; they're only here as some sort of filler and cuz I really love Nicktoons since most of them I have watched)

Headcanons involved (will get expanded in due time I swear-);

Trans Danny

Anodite Ben (still wields the Omnitrix. His anodite powers are pink too)

Dani and Dan are Danny's kids (under a different name because they have to go through a re-birth process that I'll touch upon later)

Ben's necrofriggian children now comes to earth to live with their mom (like I said, I'm not following canon)

Randy is still ninja, but because this AU involves a 3rd power/skill, I'll have to twist a bit of the canon my way, especially when it comes to the Ultimate Lesson and memory wipe

There will be some Genshin Impact references here and there, because I do play them, and I love it-

Ghost King Danny (by extent, Ghost Princess Dani and Ghost Prince Dan)

Fashion designer Ben (his sassy and confident nature could be more of a use tbh)

Primal Iudex Randy (he and Furina would get along nicely-)

Pearl Keeper Jake

Side gig magician Rex (leave me be, I think it's neat-)

Engaged Rex and Ben (all of the members are adults over 20, so don't be surprised)

Sandra Tennyson is French, so that makes Ben half-French by heritage

Ben and Randy are pen pals turned close friends by the time Ben moved to France (yes, I made Randy somewhat French here for this reason, but I'll have to put in more details later)

Rex won't lose his memories, but he'll get short-term amnesia often, which just need something to trigger the old memories back

Everyone is under the same universe

Danny's ghost team are Sam-Tucker-Valerie-Jazz and his parents (Valerie deserves better than what was given to her by canon)

Yes, Maddie and Jack knew Danny became a ghost from the very start, but they didn't treat him any differently than he was before; if anything, they felt guilty that their son had paid the price for their ignorance and neglect

Phantom Planet do not exist, and it shouldn't have been to begin with, but whatever

Valerie had always been part of Danny's gang. In terms of Shades of Gray, I'll have to change a lot of things, that includes her father's job (he didn't get fired), so I have other things in mind regarding Cujo

Cujo became Danny's pet dog later on, cuz you can't tell me these two aren't made for each other

Members from oldest to youngest, I do hope @drawnfamiliarfaces wouldn't mind me using their headcanon as well (eldest Kim, youngest Randy). I think they're really neat.

Please keep in mind that none of this follow canon whatsoever, they follow my headcanons and versions. Character backstories are written purely by my own personal headcanons too. I'll probably add actual canon when I didn't have anything good to offer, but this is what I could put for now.

[steveezekiel]

SIGNS THAT DENOTED GOD'S MIND OR WILL

19 SO SAMUEL GREW, AND THE LORD WAS WITH HIM AND LET NONE OF HIS WORDS FALL TO THE GROUND.

20 And all Israel from Dan to Beersheba knew that SAMUEL HAD BEEN ESTABLISHED AS A PROPHET OF THE LORD."

1 Samuel 3:19,20 (NKJV)

• In the text, the above passage of the Bible, we could see that Samuel's words were fulfilled or established by God, which is a proof that God was with him and he was an established prophet of God.

- One of the signs that God is with a believer or a minister of His is, the words of the person would always be honoured by Him—God.

- If a believer or a minister of God found himself or herself in a place where God would not want them to be; either to do ministry work, or to reside, or for whatever reason, God would make the words or prayers of such ineffective.

- God has different ways of speaking to the believers who walk with Him in spirit (John 4:23,24). He is interested in the minutest detail of their lives!

• When It seems things are not working as it should be, either in the ministry work or assignment or in your private and family life; It could be a sign that God is speaking or telling you that you are not at the right place or your time in the place is over or elapsed.

- God mostly speaks through things or events that happens around or in the life of a believer or a minister. Hearing from God is largely more of inward witnesses; perceptiveness or discernment, being able to read the handwriting on the wall.

- God does not always speak spectacularly, either through visions, trances, dreams, and the likes. He speaks often proverbially or in parables.

- He speaks in a way that He would want you to discern or deduce or discover through observation and thoughtfulness—He would want you to ponder, think, or meditate on the things or events that takes place around you and in your life.

- God does not spoon-feed or poke something down through your throat or force what He wanted or liked on you. He would want you to deduce or discover or discern it by yourself. Thus, you would be convinced of it, and your mind would be in agreement with it—it would not be an illusion to you or as If you are under a spell.

- In other words, God's message would not come to you under any mind suspension. You will be able to see it clearly and understand it by yourself, not that you are being tricked or forced or cajoled into whatever you are believing or accepting as His Word or message.

• The principle being shared here is applicable and practicable or liveable when a believer walks in the consciousness of God being with him or her.

- When you always had the consciousness that God in the person of the Holy Spirit is on the inside of you; and you always Acknowledge God in all your ways.

- This is what some who do not have the understanding of God's ways call being religious, or spiritualizing things.

- In living such a life, you would want to Acknowledge God when you wake up in the morning, when you want to eat, when you are driving, at your place of work, and, in short, on everything you do or wanted to do.

- Living such a life is also known as walking in the spirit or worshipping God in spirit and truth (John 4:23,24).

- It is when you lived such a life, walking in the spirit, that you would not fulfil the lust of the flesh: "I SAY THEN: WALK IN THE SPIRIT, AND YOU SHALL NOT FULFILL THE LUST OF THE FLESH" (Galatians 5:16 NKJV).

- Fulfilling the lust of the flesh would be inevitable If you are not living a life of Acknowledgement; a life of being conscious of God's presence in your life always. When His thoughts permeated your mind—your sleeping and waking thought centered on Him—and a life where you want to get to know God's mind or Will on whatever you wanted to do.

• The pattern of life being described here is obnoxious to some people, even some so-called believers; because they wanted to believe that those who live such a life are over zealous or hyper spiritual, that God is not all that hard!

- But the truth is, If you did not live such a consecrated life; It would be difficult for you not to fulfil the lusts of the flesh.

- A whole number of professed believers, born-again and tongue talking, are living a compromised life.

- The truth is, It is either you live a consecrated life or a compromised life. There is no middle ground about it. You are either here, on the Lord's side, living a consecrated life, or on the world's side, living a compromised life.

- Regardless of how you feel about it, either living a consecrated life is obnoxious to you or not, all that matters is the God's stand or take on it. Does God want it for His children, the believers, or not? If He does, It means, that is the life He wanted every believer to live.

• When you always recognize or give attention to know the mind of God, you are always conscious of His presence in your life, and thus Acknowledge Him in all you wanted to do; the signs being given as a message from God to lead or guide or direct you would not be difficult for you to discern or deduce or discover or understand.

- Through it, you would always have clear direction on whatever to do, and your paths be made smooth:

5 TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING; 6 IN ALL YOUR WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE HIM, AND HE SHALL DIRECT [make smooth or straight] YOUR PATHS. 7 DO NOT BE WISE IN YOUR OWN EYES; FEAR THE LORD AND DEPART FROM EVIL" (Proverbs 3:5-7 NKJV).

• You will not fail in Jesus' name.

- Should there be any sickness in your body, receive your healing now in the mighty name of Jesus Christ.

- Whatever is not of God in your system, that is working against your health and wellness; such is completely uprooted in the mighty name of Jesus Christ.

Peace!

STEPS TO SALVATION

• Take notice of this:

IF you are yet to take the step of salvation, that is, yet to be born-again, do it now, tomorrow might be too late (2 Corinthians 6:1,2; Hebrews 3:7,8,15).

a. Acknowledge that you are a sinner and confess your Sins (1 John 1:9); And ask Jesus Christ to come into your life (Revelation 3:20).

b. Confess that you believe in your heart that Jesus Christ is Lord, and that you confess it with your mouth, Thus, you accept Him As your Lord and Saviour (Romans 10:9,10).

c. Ask that He will write your name in the Book of Life (Philippians 4:3; Revelation 3:8).

- If you took the steps As highlighted above, It means you are saved—born-again. Join a Word based church in your area and Town or city, and be part of whatever they are doing there. Peace!

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 3: [HSR AU] dh, bailu / vidyadhara family

ao3 link

note: this was a fun little crossover! this is sorta like the trailblazer ik au, except she's just in her home universe? i liked this prompt, but as a heads up i probably won't do anymore full other-fandom-aus, since i want to focus on ik and the jtta cast

ik here was awakened at the same time as stelle, but instead of om coming into the picture later, but there's an implication in this one that she knew the characters before being 'woken up' by kafka. haven't developed proper lore for this, but in this case the devildom would be another planet/world in the hsr universe

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

It’s odd, but Dan Heng feels relief when IK doesn’t seem to recognise Imbibitor Lunae.

Conveniently displaced just enough from everyone else to have missed all the action, she catches up just as they’re dispatching Jing Yuan for healing. Dan Heng steps back, suddenly self-conscious, and decides to let the rest of the Nameless do the talking.

He thinks at first that he might have gotten away with it - that he’s blended in with the other Xianzhou natives, and will be overlooked until Dan Heng (the archivist, the friend) can meet up with them on the Express. IK looks at him, shakes his hand, tells him it’s nice to meet him, then wanders off to have a look at the Ambrosial Arbor. She doesn’t even ask for his name.

More fool him for falling for it, he supposes.

While the Express is still parked by the Luofu, he doesn’t expect to go out much. He’d vowed long ago to never return to Xianzhou, and while his exile has been revoked, old habits die hard. That doesn’t mean he refuses to return at all, though, and so he hadn’t refused when Stelle asked him to accompany IK to the Alchemy Commission to visit Bailu.

Bailu’s been aboard the Express several times to hang out with its youngest passenger, and the kids have a habit of roping him into their games, so he thinks of it as more of the same. And he still doesn’t think anything’s up at first - he takes them around Aurum Alley, trades drinks with IK after Bailu successfully tricks her into trying mung bean soda, and doesn’t even question it when they abruptly suggest a change in location.

This is on me, he thinks, staring up at the statue of the High Elder with a mild grimace and a bitter taste in his mouth. Though that might be from the soda.

“...you’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” He asks.

IK gives him a look. “You’re only asking that now?”

“We took you all the way to Scalegorge Waterscape and you didn’t think anything was up?” adds Bailu.

He takes in the near-identical blend of stubborn seriousness on their faces, and can’t help but smile. He admits, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’ve been like that for ages,” adds IK. “Like you’re a million miles away. I was getting worried.”

She starts ambling down to steps to the rest of the Waterscape, and Bailu tugs on the hem of his jacket until he follows. “Remember when we sealed the Ambrosial Arbor, and all those echoes kept talking to you? I was worried you’d never want to come back to the Luofu after that…”

He shakes his head silently. He can’t think of what to say in response.

IK keeps walking for a while, then starts, “I’ve been reading about that Dan Feng guy. There isn’t a lot about him in the archive. Did you delete it?”

“I didn’t feel the need to record much of it in the first place.”

“The Vidyadhara pages are all really detailed, though.”

He hums. Bailu trips over a wide crack in the stones, and he steadies her by the shoulder without thinking.

“Did you know it was me before?” He asks after a while. “Were you just pretending not to?”

“It took me a while,” IK admits. “I looked at the statue, and he had the same hair and clothes and horns, but his face was all wrong. So I looked at you properly, and then I realised it was you.”

Dan Heng has looked up into that statue’s face before, and it’s like looking into a grey mirror. “...you don’t… need to do that for my sake. I know we share the same—”

“You don’t, though. It wasn’t making a Dan Heng face.”

Bailu looks up at him with an earnest nod. Dan Heng can’t find it in him to argue.

IK hops over a particularly deep puddle, then reaches over to help Bailu do the same. Dan Heng thinks Bailu could probably make it across just fine on her own, and he thinks Bailu knows this - but she stretches out her little arms, and lets herself be lifted across anyway. He crosses the same puddle easily, and contemplates something for a while.

The Waterscape is never quite silent, but it feels quiet as a graveyard right now. Several times since arriving at the Luofu, he’s found himself consumed by his thoughts - deep, thick, like wading through tar - but right now, he finds himself thinking of nothing at all.

“You know,” IK starts, “If you sort of look like him, and you have the same surname…”

“Are you suggesting that Dan Feng is my father?” He asks, amused.

“Maybe?” She grimaces. “Is that how it works?”

“Vidyadhara don’t really have parents,” Bailu says. “What do you think?”

“...I dunno. First thing I remember is waking up in the lab. Does that make my dad a test tube?”

Dan Heng thinks of what Stelle has told him - of how Blade knew her from before her own awakening. “Do you remember anything before that?”

“I don’t know. It’s all a giant blur. There’s Stelle, and there’s Miss Kafka…” IK thinks for a long while. “...and before that… there’s someone with big black wings, and it’s dark. But that feels more like a dream.”

“Vidyadhara dreams are supposed to tell you about who you used to be,” Bailu mumbles. “But mine are just really confusing. Dan Heng, what do you dream about?”

He stops walking. He doesn’t respond.

Dan Heng, by self-imposed rule, tries not to dwell too much on dreams. Dan Feng’s memories are murky - cold, pressing, like sinking deep into an icy ocean. The pressure builds until he feels he might explode, and then he wakes up.

When he’s lucky, he gets a nice memory - a sunny day, an evening drinking with friends. But Dan Feng died in pain, and so too do his dreams most often end in dull agony. He counts himself lucky to have not gone through the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, but he’s still unlucky enough to bear its scars.

Dan Feng is guilty. This much he knows - this much he learnt from the moment of his rebirth, and the cold chains of the Shackling Prison for years afterwards.

“...Dan Heng?”

The kids have stopped walking now. They’ve stopped just in front of another puddle. This one looks deeper than the rest - darker, too, as if falling in might drop them into the cloudy abyss below.

Without thinking, he crosses it with a single, long stride, then reaches across and carefully lifts IK across the gap. Then Bailu, too, and it’s only once they’re both looking up at him in confusion that he remembers where the conversation left off.

“I don’t dream of much happy things,” He says finally. It isn’t pleasant, but it’s the truth.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he feels a gentle smile on his face that wasn’t there before.

“I didn’t realise you were interested in the Vidyadhara,” He says to IK. “You know, you can just use the Data Bank whenever you like. You don’t need to sneak in while I’m not there.”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” She mumbles, and he almost laughs at the notion. IK is about as scary as a Wubbaboo. “Stelle told me it’s tricky for you to talk about. I didn’t want to just ask.”

She looks nervous now. He wonders how much Stelle might have exaggerated his own grievances. He might be haunted, but he doesn’t consider himself particularly tormented.

“I don’t mind,” He says, and it’s the truth.

IK’s a curious creature, and he often finds himself supplying her constant want for knowledge. This might as well be a tutoring session. He doesn’t think much of it - between one step and the next, he calls the transformation forward, and the dragon emerges with little more than a crystalline ripple.

The way IK reacts, though, you’d think he’d presented her with a tome of archaic knowledge. Her face lights up. Was she holding this back when she first met him in this form? Normally she’s frighteningly easy to read…

“Told you he doesn’t have a tail,” Bailu says, though she’s grinning brightly. He can’t imagine anyone else on the Luofu would be this delighted to see him like this.

“I do have a tail,” He sighs. “It’s just not convenient.”

“Tail?” IK repeats, barely above a whisper. Her excitement is palpable.

“...fine,” He acquiesces, and it shimmers into form behind him. IK’s clear delight - though silent - brings a small smile to his face. No wonder she made such fast friends with Bailu in the first place.

IK takes a step towards him - and, without thinking, he takes a step back. He only realises he’s done it once she does the same, ducking her head a little apologetically.

He hadn’t meant to. It’s just that— of all those pieces of the dragon who had been Dan Feng, it is Bailu who inherited his gentleness and healing. He only has the destruction. He can be here as a demonstration - like that statue before - but he can’t help but feel apprehensive about the hum of golden cloudhymn magic at his fingertips. Gold and red go hand in hand so easily.

“Dan Heng,” Bailu suddenly whispers theatrically. “It feels really nice when you get your horns scratched, you know.”

“...what?”

“Just giving you some High Elder wisdom.”

IK is giving him a different look now. It’s the same she wore when approaching Svarog for the first time, and it only went away when Clara asked the massive robot to let IK shake his hand.

There’s something like a protest in the back of his head. He ignores it and dips his head down.

He isn’t sure what his horns feel like, actually. Are they cold? Are they more crystalline, or porcelain?

Whatever it is, IK seems happy. It’s odd - she hides behind Stelle whenever they have to meet new people, but she never retreats from encounters with robots, or anything that could be termed an animal, monster, or creature by any other sense of the word.

This feels a little different though. The presence of trust feels distinctly different from a lack of fear. It feels… warm.

And it persists, even as they continue on their walk. Bailu tells IK some funny stories about the Arbiter General, and groans when he starts recounting the history of the murals (“I hear enough about those in my lessons!”). When he does, he almost forgets that he’s currently an enrobed High Elder, and not an archivist explaining another entry in the Data Bank.

They stop at some eggs, and IK says something about how it must be a shame to not have parents to raise you.

“Probably, anyway,” She adds after a moment. “I don’t really know.”

Dan Heng feels an odd tinge of sorrow. Bailu, meanwhile, huffs. “What do they even do?”

“Nag a lot, I think,” IK says, then puts on a funny voice. “A-Heng, no running in the street! A-Heng, no more sweets! A-Heng, do the dishes!”

“I’m older than you,” He mutters, though there isn’t any reproach in it.

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone we meet’s older than me.”

“Maybe we’ll meet a baby one day. Then they won’t be.”

IK snorts. Then Bailu does the same - and then they both burst into a peal of laughter. Quite suddenly, he finds himself joining in, though more mellow, because that really is an odd thing to hear from such a regal-looking Vidyadhara’s mouth.

Their smiles are brighter than the sun, he thinks.

Later, they’ll have to return to the Express, and Bailu will be needed for her duties again. For now, they are at home in the Waterscape.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Impossibility of It

Chloe Grant could hear the thunder of rotors through the soundproof glass on the twentieth story of Future Proof’s headquarters.

A black unmarked helicopter, landing atop the skyscraper, had captured her entire attention.

Or it happened to be a convenient distraction from the conversation at hand. An uncomfortable conversation that Grant had sought out herself, and also been dreading all the while.

“Would you rather reschedule?” asked Rebecca Chao. She couldn’t quite finish the sentence without a hint of sarcasm.

Grant chewed on her lip until she spotted Chao observing her nervous tic, then made a conscious and forced effort to stop doing that.

She peeled her gaze from the vista of Austin’s skyline. The chopper had landed, though the noise of its thundering rotors still reverberated through the panes.

“No, uh, no,” Grant stammered out, sighing in between, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

Chao folded her hands on her lap. She stared at Grant with a perfect poker face.

“We’re not wasting any time here. Not to step on your toes, but I think you were long overdue for a session. There’s only so much mental stress our field operatives—or really anybody—can tolerate before it starts affecting their—our—private lives.”

Grant sighed again.

At this point in time, she wasn’t sure what her private life even was.

With the way reality kept shifting with each change of the timeline, her own life felt alien to her.

The corners of Chao’s lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

“Maybe you could… inspire Mister Carter to see me, too.”

Grant scoffed. Smiled fully.

That would be the day.

“I’m afraid you won’t get Carter in here unless you mandate therapy sessions for field ops.”

Chao’s lips curled and her eyes narrowed.

“Now, there’s a thought.”

Her pen clicked. The doctor scooped her notepad off the desk and scribbled down a note.

“It’s just… I know who I am, but I am not the me who this world used to know before I returned to it through the temporal Anomaly… if that makes any sense. Everybody must have gone through life knowing another me, and although our experiences should mostly match, I… I keep running into these… differences.”

“Like your intimate relationship with Miss Bennett?”

Grant only nodded in response.

“I wish we had more concrete insights into how the Anomalies and temporal disjunctions truly work. We are, together, exploring terra incognita here. A weak solace, perhaps, but in some ways, you are a pioneer.”

“Well,” Grant said, clicking her tongue, “I did sign up for it, didn’t I? I could just quit, couldn’t I?”

Chao stared at her. Instead of answering those questions, she scribbled down another note on her pad.

“I’m quite—not—I’m not quitting,” Grant stumbled over her words. “No, there’s lives at stake.”

“But your own life is a concern. There’s no shame in self-preservation. We all need to protect ourselves.”

Grant pinched the bridge of her nose. Felt a headache coming on.

This wasn’t what she hoped to hear in the session.

“Are you worried you are dissociating?” Chao asked. “I am very sorry—it must be difficult to negotiate the differences between the life you knew before the temporal shift.”

The helicopter on the rooftop had quieted. The ensuing silence in Chao’s office became almost ghostly as a consequence. Grant now almost yearned for the distraction of noise.

Chao’s question lingered in the air like a phantom, haunting Grant, floating around the back of her head.

Chao broke the silence and said, “As I was saying, this is terra incognita for all of us. You are under no obligation to perform as the Chloe Grant people expect you to be. You only owe it to yourself to be who you want to be. And if that’s more in line with the timeline you come from, then that is who you are.”

Though Grant found a shred of comfort buried within her words, she pursed her lips, and part of her instinctually rebelled against Chao’s advice.

“What are you… are you suggesting I should break up with Dan?”

Chao’s eyes widened and her brow furrowed.

“I was not suggesting any such thing, no. Not even close. I—”

The phone on Chao’s desk buzzed with obnoxious volume. An incoming message.

The doctor shot a glance down at the small device’s now-glowing screen.

Grant said, “No, it… it feels right, I think. Like it was going to happen anyway? The more I think about it, the more I can see it, or could have seen it, or whatever. Uh—”

In stark contrast to the rest of the session, it was almost like Chao hadn’t listened to a single word she said since the phone’s buzzing. The doctor just stared at the text message on her phone’s screen.

“Doctor? Am I… interrupting something?”

The furrow on Chao’s brow arched even higher. She looked up from the device to meet Grant’s gaze, then shook her head.

“No, I am sorry, I apologize. It’s… please forgive me. I should answer this.”

Chao picked up the phone and her thumbs tapped away at a reply.

Grant stifled a sigh and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the city in pink light.

Chao put the phone back down, then asked, “Now, where were we?”

Grant shook her head. “No, it’s… nothing. I think I’ll manage. Just talking has helped. A lot. That was Spencer, wasn’t it?”

The corners of Chao’s lips twitched again.

“Yes, but he can wait.” Her glance to the silent clock on the wall telegraphed her next statement. “We still have fifteen more minutes.”

On cue, the phone buzzed again. Chao’s gaze darted back down to it, locked onto the screen, reading the next message intently.

It was also fifteen minutes before the end of office hours.

But their unusual line of work here had a habit of sneaking up on them and saddling them with overtime. All the time.

Grant grinned through her final sigh of the day, as if she had run out of breath for it.

“Shall we?” she asked Doctor Chao.

Chao’s entire expression hardened. It had to be something serious.

She nodded at Grant.

“In fact, yes, we are both being called to join a meeting. Downstairs.”

A chill ran down Grant’s spine.

Like a premonition of terrible things to come.

They packed up and left the doctor’s office, cutting the session short. Grant wouldn’t be losing sleep over it. She hadn’t been lying or exaggerating about how the talking had helped somewhat, though she was skeptical if anybody could help her at all.

If anybody could even understand—truly understand—what all of this felt like.

The CEO, Malachi Spencer himself, had summoned Doctor Chao to the basement levels. Riding the elevator down with their top-clearance keycards, Grant learned that Spencer had summoned her, as well. She only missed the summons because she had switched her phone to airplane mode for the therapy session.

Spencer probably knew about the therapy now. There was no point in asking how Chao handled confidentiality. The normal rules didn’t really apply around here.

Future Proof tended to play fast and loose with morals and ethics.

To sleep at night, Grant told herself that this was in humanity’s best interests.

The two women exchanged no words as they marched down the long and harrowing hall through Containment’s sub-level.

Their taciturn walk delivered them into a forcibly sterile medical examination room. In deeper solemn silence, they slipped into HAZMAT suits. Donned the visored helmets. Ensured everything was sealed airtight.

White clouds enshrouded them, hissing, as they crossed through the airlock. Electronic seals beeped and clicked, and they entered the quarantined room.

Even with only the smell of plastic to meet her senses, Grant thought of rotten meat upon seeing the body on the metal examination slab.

That thing wasn’t human.

It wasn’t saurian, either. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she had seen such a thing before—

In the Crossroads of Anomalies. Chasing the man in ancient armor.

The sight of it up close stunned her so deeply that she failed to notice all the faces staring at her upon her entrance into the examination room.

The creature was only vaguely humanoid, featuring almost twice the body mass of a grown man. Its arms were longer than its legs, and all its limbs were wiry with hidden power, tipped in freakishly long fingers, and deadly claws. Mottled gray flesh reminded her of aliens from outer space, especially with the head’s strange form and toothy maw, and a metal, futuristic device crowning its skull—with wires and hooks clearly protruding from the flesh, attached to the organism’s head.

It had been riddled with bullets. A surgeon had extracted all of them.

“Doctor Chao,” said Spencer, every syllable cutting like a knife. “Agent Grant. Good of you to join us. We’re brainstorming here and all red-clearance personnel is encouraged to weigh in with any theories they can come up with.”

Grant sidled up to the autopsy table and stared into the exposed insides of the carcass’s open torso. Stretchers kept tissue peeled apart, and the organs reminded her of what one might find among a human body’s innards.

She asked, “What are we looking at here? Where did you find this… thing?”

Stantz, their PR manager, was among the people gathered around the table.

The HAZMAT suits they were all wearing made it hard to tell everybody apart, but Grant immediately recognized his smarmy tone.

“I pulled some strings. United States special forces, led by a certain Captain Dariel Rose, as you all know, took down this specimen with extreme prejudice. Unlike the wise foresight of Future Proof here, Rose and his men gunned it down, butchered it in some truck or back alley, and only handed it off to us after we, uh, twisted some screws on his thumbs.”

Grant wasn’t interested in the specifics. Especially not with Stantz’s delivery thereof. The rest of the gathering had probably already discussed it to death, anyway.

Doctor Solomon stood at the head of the autopsy table, just next to a tray harboring a scalpel and other sharp implements. He wiggled his fingers like he was antsy to cut the specimen some more.

And he said as much. “Yes. This would be the second autopsy performed on the specimen, though not by us. I appreciate the almost Victorian theatrics of having an audience.”

Doctor Burch shuffled awkwardly where she stood next to him. She stared at Stantz, expecting him to share something more about their new specimen on the table, or about the circumstances on how it ended up here.

Spencer and Stantz stood by the clawed feet of the abominable creature. Stantz’s arms stayed crossed, like he was protesting something. Meanwhile, Spencer exuded the same presence as he always did—a knife in human shape. Even wearing awkward-looking HAZMAT gear instead of his usual expensive tailored suits did little to diminish Spencer’s domineering energy.

His deathly glare swept across his employees before locking onto Solomon.

“Feel free to bring Doctor Chao and Agent Grant up to speed with your theories so far.”

Solomon shrugged and gestured in the round, urging the others to speak up.

Carter stood across from Solomon, on the opposite side of the table. He looked tired and grumpy, as usual. His gaze bounced back and forth between Grant and Mischchenko, as if he was expecting either of them to say something.

Standing right next to Burch, Mischchenko tilted her head and shot Grant furtive glances. She then cleared her throat, muffled by the HAZMAT suit, and repeated what she must have already said earlier.

“It combines physical traits of simians, felines, humans, and—this is the weird part—a shark. Note the teeth,” she said, pointing two yellow-gloved fingers at the creature’s toothy maw.

Grant leaned over the body’s head to take a closer look. Indeed, rows of teeth lined the mouth, and they looked as jagged and triangular as those of vicious, serrated sawblades.

Though the creature had no fur, she could vaguely see the resemblance to apes and wildcats both—especially with what she had seen of the creature in its living form, darting between the Crossroads’ Anomalies.

Unable to stop scanning the creature’s odd features, she asked, “Well, is that really that odd? Something from the far future could… evolve into this, on our planet. Right?”

“I said the same thing,” Mischchenko muttered with a hint of resignation. She then nodded to Burch.

Burch continued in her stead, saying, “It’s from 2,000 years into the future. I have no earthly idea how anything on our planet would evolve this fast.”

Another cold shudder shook Grant’s spine.

2,000 years into the future.

The impossibility of it arrived in waves.

“Wait,” Chao interrupted. “How do you know it’s from 2,000 years into the future?”

“Allow me to answer that,” Spencer said, cutting in. “The very Anomaly that this building was built on top of harbors a connection to that specific time. This is not the first of these specimen that we examined. Burch carbon-dated a dead one we retrieved from the future, and this predator—we dubbed it the Apex Predator—is native to that time.”

“That specimen wasn’t sporting this, though,” Solomon said, using his scalpel to tap the metal device attached to the creature’s skull.

Chao’s face twisted. She looked as insulted as Grant felt—even at their clearance level, secrets had been kept. Some people had been in the savvy about certain dealings at Future Proof, while others, like them, had been kept in the dark.

Solomon still tapped the metal device with the scalpel.

Grant jutted her jaw out at it and asked, “What the hell is that?”

Solomon shrugged.

“Some sort of bio-mechanical implant. Perhaps a cerebral augmentation, or something to control the specimen. It’s not transmitting or responding to Wi-Fi signals, however, so your guess is as good as anybody’s. Once we extract it, I’m excited to pick it apart and find out what makes it tick.”

He smiled.

Mischchenko said, “I’m more concerned about what it suggests, because it—”

Spencer cut in again. “The future of our planet looked bleak on every one of our early expeditions through the Anomalies, Agent Grant. Apocalyptic, one might say. And this implant on the specimen’s head, suffice to say, it tells us beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is someone in the future who is experimenting on these feral animals. A perplexing outlook, given that that the future is arguably unsuitable for human life.”

Early expeditions? Again, with the secrets—Grant couldn’t stop a frown from surfacing.

She asked, “Why isn’t any of this on record anywhere? Why weren’t we briefed about these… things?”

Was this why Ruiz was leaking information to Corsino and Celeva?

She glared at Spencer. The fire in his eyes matched hers, yet ever so coldly.

Carter arched a brow. He had been thinking what she said out loud. He locked onto Spencer with shades of the same burning intent.

Spencer fired back, “Everything we do is on a need-to-know basis, and now you need to know.”

Grant almost spat her words out. “As I reported in my last debrief, and described to the best of my ability, this is exactly the kind of specimen I sighted in the Crossroads. Would have been good to know about these things, you know, before they kill us. This thing, how powerful is it?”

A dark chuckle escaped Carter and he nodded at Stantz. “Bozo over here says it managed to gut three ex-Marines like fish before they took it down with a couple hundred high-caliber rounds.”

“Not how I put it,” Stantz said, “but I am neither a pedant nor do I feel like correcting the talent.”

Carter leered at him with a toothy grin. Though he stared at Stantz, his grumbling was directed at Spencer when he asked, “You rethinkin’ that no-exploring-beyond-the-Anomalies rule now, boss? Seeing as you used to send people through, all willy-nilly. Or did I misunderstand that just now?”

All he garnered was a thin-lipped smirk from Spencer. The CEO spared him no remark.

“Though my curiosity is overwhelming,” Solomon said, “curiosity, as we all know, killed the proverbial cat.”

Spencer broke eye contact with Carter to fixate on Solomon next. “You? You out of all people are now recommending against Anomaly expeditions, doctor?”

Solomon gingerly placed the scalpel back down onto the tray and shook his head.

“No, not at all. Though the consensus is—and I’m inclined to agree with Doctor Trémaux on this—that anything we do beyond the Anomalies could bear disastrous consequences for the present. Disastrous. I don’t think we can stress this enough.”

“Duly noted, doctor. The—”

“Hey,” Mischchenko interrupted them.

Everybody’s gaze followed where her index finger was pointing.

To the tiny, blinking red light on the creature’s cranial implant.

“It was doing that,” Grant said. “The one I saw in the Crossroads.”

Then it all happened so fast.

Yelled someone, “Restrain it!”

But the thrashing had already begun. All reactions followed too late to prevent disaster from unfolding in their midst.

The creature—despite its open chest cavity—began lashing out.

It was alive. So deadly, and alive.

Spindly limbs, ending in sharp claws, thrashed about. People fell, stumbled backwards, raised arms in defense, only to see the yellow-suited material on their arms get slashed to ribbons. And blood sprayed.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

Shouts of confusion and agony and panic all competed for attention, and all of them lost that competition in the explosive chaos.

The yellow of Doctor Solomon’s HAZMAT suit was splashed crimson from the chest down. The head of engineering screamed at the top of his lungs.

Before Grant could even blink twice, Carter was on top of the monstrosity, catching it by its thick neck in a powerful chokehold. His other gloved, meaty fist pried at the strange cranial implant, like he was trying to rip it off the creature’s skull by hand.

On instinct, Grant had shoved Chao out of the way, sending her flying into Stantz and Spencer, sending them all crashing into the floor like a set of human domino pieces. Lucky for them that she has acted without thinking, because clawed feet had threatened to slice their bellies open in the creature’s thrashing rage and rampage.

Carter’s swearing was cut short as something slit his throat—

It all happened so fast.

Instead of intelligible words, he emitted guttural choking while he choked out the creature, and yellow-gloved fingers, stained red, slipped from their grip on the monster’s cranial implant.

He staggered away from it, unable to hold on any longer.

Burch stumbled away with the horrifically injured Doctor Solomon, pulling him away from the specimen, while Mischchenko sprung into violent action. She yanked a heavy microscope off a nearby table, and slammed it down on the creature’s head. Two blows was all it took, cleaving the red-blinking device from the Apex Predator’s skull, to the tune of tearing flesh and cracking bone.

She ducked away before a flailing claw could eviscerate her.

The heft of her blows had torn off what Carter had been trying to rip away by hand, and the bloodied piece of mysterious tech clattered onto the floor, spraying puddles of blood and scattered brain matter. Then the tiny red light atop the device winked out. Went dead.

The Apex Predator thrashed around one final time, then its deadly body fell limp on the metal slab again.

Carter had landed on his ass, gripping his neck, and Grant was quickly upon him. She applied pressure, but it all happened so fast—the blood pumped out between her gloved fingers at an alarming rate.

His wide eyes—piercing blue eyes—stared into Grant’s. Then they stared through her as the life faded from them more and more, fading more with every pumping squirt of blood from his neck.

Though the circumstances had changed, she watched Carter die.

Again.

Not in Midland’s desert. In the basement levels of Future Proof.

And as she’d admit in her next session with Chao, she dreaded the thought that it wouldn’t be the last time she’d watch him die.

At the very least, she would see him die in her dreams.

Over and over again.

[cozyfoxy]

Mystical Paths Chapter 5

Summary: The Howells have been the proud owners of a small but famous bookstore since the 1800s. They are known for being the only shop that collects original copies of magic writings. Dan works as the bookkeeper of the shop. As the busiest season approaches, one of the most renowned magic families reaches out to the shop and offers to gift them an original Spellbook of sorts. Little did Dan know that these offers would change his life forever.

Warnings: Panic attack

Read on AO3

Chapter One

Dan grimaced at the soft buzzing in his ear. No, not buzzing, humming maybe? It was soothing for the most part, but his head was hurting, a dull rumbling ache. He sighed and moved a bit in his bed, not bothering to open his eyes to find the source of the sound. Sleep was the only thing in his mind, he wanted to sleep longer. The humming paused for only a moment before picking back up again, sounding a bit louder than before. Dan’s senses seemed to become stronger as he became more conscious. There was something cool on his forehead, it felt nice against the ache in his head. He could also smell something fruity and floral, it smelled warm and made his mouth water. He licked his dry lips quickly before willing his eyes to open.

After blinking a couple of times, everything came into focus. He was in his bed, tucked underneath his duvet like a child. Dan huffed to himself and looked out his window, the sky shrouded in grey clouds. His window was cracked, letting the cool autumn air wash away the stale air in his room. He grunted in pain as he sat up, holding the back of his head in annoyance. What happened to him? “Oh, good you’re awake.” A voice said, sounding close. Dan quickly looked around himself, feeling a bit disorientated. He didn’t see anyone. Was Phil talking to him in his head again?

“What’s happening?” the brunette asked the empty room, his voice sounding strained. “You fainted. I’m assuming you dreamed of Arthur, yes?” Phil asked calmly, walking carefully into Dan’s room. Dan blinked and shivered despite not feeling cold. He bit his lip and tried to focus his eyes on where he heard Phil’s voice, but he still saw no one. “I… how did you know that?” he heard himself whisper, whimpering at the pain in his throat. It felt like he was coming down with something. Suddenly, a hot mug of tea was in his hands. The steam floated up in his nose, helping him relax. Without overthinking it, he took a careful sip of the drink, sighing happily as its warmth coated his tender throat. It tasted heavenly, like the sweetest berries and honey.

“That tea will heal your mind, body, and soul. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, it’s always been my favorite.” Phil mumbled, watching happily as Dan’s body relaxed. “But to answer your question, I had the same reaction when I first had the dream. On the seventh of October, after my twenty-second birthday, I dreamed of James from Arthur’s viewpoint. It was terrifyingly real, and when I woke up… I realized I had a birthmark that looked a little too much like a mark that Arthur gave himself in my dream.”

Dan scowled in confusion, trying to focus on the mug of tea in his hand without any luck. Phil knew what had happened to him. Phil had to have caused this, magic wielders couldn’t be trusted after all. He quickly searched his room, still seeing no one. He was alone, talking to no one tangible. His mind was a mess of what-ifs and fear. Before Dan could fully realize what was happening to him, he began gasping for breath. His vision blurred slightly as tears burned in his eyes and his body began to ache just as much as his head. His heart pounded in his chest, sending rumbling, painful pulses through his ears. Dan shook from the inside, unable to control his tears. The mug that was clamped in his hands was suddenly gone, allowing him to wrap his arms around his knees. He remembered that he had fainted right before he was going to take a shower, he had passed out without clothes on. Yet, now he was wearing his favorite pair of sweatpants and fuzzy socks. He hadn’t done that.

“You… you saw me naked. Why ar-are you he-here?” Dan stammered through the rough sobs that tremored through his body. Phil bit his lip nervously, slowly fading into Dan’s bedroom. His heart pounded in fear, but he kneeled beside Dan’s bed anyway.

“Dan I didn’t see any part of you that I can’t see right now. I dressed you, yes, but I used my magic. I didn’t want to overstep.” Phil explained gently, “I… felt that you had fainted. Your mind just went black for a bit, it scared the hell out of me.” Dan swallowed thickly, looking to where he had heard Phil’s voice. For the first time, he saw the man behind the voice; and he couldn’t look away. It felt like time had frozen, like he and Phil were the only two people in the world. When their eyes met, it was like the sun rising over the line of the ocean, something that happened daily and would happen until the end of time.

“I…” Dan didn’t even know what he was going to say, his mind wouldn’t calm. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate with him. So, he just stared, open mouthed at the man beside him. Phil tilted his head to one side, raising an eyebrow, “I know you’re a little all over the place. You can ask me anything. I’m here to answer your questions.” he explained.

Dan swallowed thickly, nodding at Phil’s words, “Um… so, why did I dream about Arthur?”

A soft chuckle left Phil’s lips, “getting right down to business I see. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. To put it simply, we have met before, many times before actually.” “We’ve met like twice, and both times you were a fox… I sound like an idiot saying that outloud.” Dan whispered, shaking his head himself. He still couldn’t look away from Phil, no matter how hard he tried. It was like he was under a spell.

Phil smiled sheepishly and ran his fingers through his black fringe, “Well, yeah. But I’m talking about meeting in past lives Daniel. In your dream, Arthur promised to find you in another life, yes? Well… here we are.” Dan blinked slowly, his heart sinking down into his stomach. No, that couldn’t be true, could it? Past lives weren’t real. You got one life to fuck up, not multiple.

He laughed humorlessly, shooting a glare in Phil’s direction. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here Lester, but it’s not funny. If anything, it’s just pissing me off. I hate when people try to mess with my head, I do that enough on my own. And I fucking hate magic! It does nothing but cause issues and hurt people, especially in the wrong hands. I know your family is a big deal and all, especially in the magical world, but that gives you no right to come into my life and try to manipulate me! Just get out… leave me the fuck alone.” Dan whimpered, tears burning in his eyes.

For less than a second, Phil’s blue eyes flickered to a complete yellow. It was so quick, that Dan wasn’t sure if it had been his imagination. Instead of moving away from Dan’s bed, he lifted a shaky hand to cup the younger man’s cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. He watched Dan’s shaking form wordlessly, digging through his mind for an answer to this reaction. He hadn’t expected this. “Shhh, it’s okay little dove. Please… just…” Phil sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the tip of his nose, “you may not believe me. But it’s true. The book, my journal, it can explain it better than I can. When you work again, you can read it and see.”

Dan shook his head jerkily, falling further onto his bed as sobs clawed through his chest, “I… I don’t want to go back to work! I don’t want to deal with that stupid fucking book and all of the rude customers! They look at me like I’m a fraud, they tell me my family isn’t worthy to have such a blessing from your family! I want things to go back to how they were Phil! Back when the shop was peaceful. I hate dreading going to work, when I used to look forward to it… I don’t want to go back.”

Phil froze, the realization of Dan’s feelings sending a tremor of pain through his own heart. Even the strongest people could only hold so much pressure. Dan had been holding a boulder over his head, and his arms finally snapped. How had he not realized? He thought he had prepared to save Dan from the fear, from the worry, but he failed. He had made it worse. “Oh Danny… I’m so sorry. I should've realized, but I didn’t. Look, this is an easy fix.” He explained, waving his hand in the air and mumbling a few words.

The journal appeared onto Dan’s bedside table with a small thub, making hims jump anxiously. He quickly looked into Phil’s eyes again, confusion clear on his face. His brows twisted together in a silent question. “The book has made your family plenty of money, yes? So, now it’s yours. And don’t worry, no one will remember it besides you and myself. You don’t have to dread work anymore.” Phil whispered, biting his lip tightly, a glare on his face.

“I… what? You can do that?” Dan whispered, wiping the last of his tears with the palm of his hand, “but, why? You went through all that trouble for nothing…”

Phil hummed and shook his head, “no, no. I did what I did for you. For your family. For myself. It was the best way that I could contact you, without scaring you away immediately. I know how you feel about magic, so I couldn’t exactly just appear on your doorstep and explain things to you.”

Suddenly, Phil stood up and looked towards Dan’s bedroom door, “I have to get going. I will come back if you want me to, but I really need you to read the book. Please, I just need you to understand. I need you to believe me. I… I need you.” he whispered, unable to keep his voice from breaking. “Let me know if you want me to come back.”

Dan moved to speak, but before he could, Phil had disappeared into thin air, leaving only a folded up piece of paper behind. Dan stood up on shaky legs, his mind running a million miles a minute, and he couldn’t keep up, he felt sick. He shook his head quickly and picked up the paper, unfolding it with nervous fingers.

“Dan, I was going to ask this of you while I was with you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Until Tuesday morning, please, do not leave your home under any circumstance. I went ahead and stocked up your kitchen, so you will not need to leave for food. If you do need to leave, please, PLEASE call me. I know you might not understand, but it is for your safety and for my sanity. I wrote my number down for you so that you can text me if need be, I know you don’t like using magic for anything. The world around you will be perilous for the next few days, so stay inside. My family is keeping a lookout on your parents, they will be safe. Oh, and if anyone knocks on your door, or calls for you from outside, stay where you are and call me. Please. If nothing else, please listen to me now. I just want to protect you. I know you don’t believe what is happening, nor do you believe who we are, who I am, but I love you and I will NOT lose you again. Not this time. Much Love, Phil.

Dan closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, before adding the phone number from the paper to his phone begrudgingly. He might not trust Phil, but he didn’t trust magic even more. If Phil was warning him, then it definitely had something to do with magic. A sudden fluttering sound made Dan jump, bringing his attention to the now open journal on his bedside table. He groaned and walked over to the book weakly, looking at the title at the top of the page, “The Three Days of Darkness. Day 1, the dead come walking.”

[pulpman2]

Jack’s Choice

Jack Bennett felt his eyes rise to the top of his head under his closed lids and colours began to explode in the darkness enveloping him. He was choking, that much he knew as the cord around his neck was pulled ever tighter. If he lost consciousness he might never come back… His left hand scrabbled towards his neck in a desperate attempt to prevent the thin rope from strangulating him still further. It was no use - the dark curtains were closing on his mind.

Then a breathless female voice insinuated its way into his foggy brain. He knew those dulcet tones anywhere! Kathy Kyle, private investigator, bounty hunter, part time cop, professional blonde and all round pain in the ass. “It’s your choice, Jack!” the woman standing behind his flailing form gasped, grunting from the effort of garrotting him. “I can use this cord to end your useless existence on this planet or, if you surrender to me, it will just be used to tie your hands behind your back! What’s it to be?” Jack knew it was no choice at all. He would take being tied up - even by a loud-mouthed, uppity, pantyhosed broad like Kathy - over leaving this veil of tears before he had even moved out the Lower East Side. “No contest, babe!” is what the minor league gangster intended to say before he slumped unceremoniously to the floor. What Kathy heard was “Nucb!” but she figured out the asshole’s meaning. She rolled the barely conscious Jack onto his front, looped the cord away from his neck and pulled his arms together behind his back. As the man choked back into life she began to tie his wrists together.

“I do this to you so often I’m beginning to think you enjoy it, Jack!” the sassy PI laughed. Jack coughed loudly. “I enjoy it a whole lot better than being strangled to death, ma’am!” he replied, a relieved tone in his voice.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to Guilty Detective Story Magazine featuring Russian Roulette by Dan Malcolm (July 1958)

[universitypenguin]

when you are writing a fic do you have most of it planned out beforehand or do you kind of make it up as you go along?

In the past, I've mainly identified as a plotter.

My typical approach to a story was to use Google sheets and write out mini summaries of each chapter. I used Blake Snyder’s story beats, the 27 chapter method, Dan Wells’ seven point story structure, the Highway and Service Road method from Jane Cleland’s book, “Mastering Plot Twists” and everything in between.

However, after composing the blueprint for a story I’d often be bored and struggle to write the actual novel. Knowing what happened next killed the vibe. Another issue that I saw in my writing was that my character development and their growth cycles sometimes felt stilted and forced. Whether or not I could capture the essence of a character was a roulette of hit or miss.

Because of that, I approached TPATL in a different manner. I felt like I finally knew structure well enough that I could pull off a character driven story - I’d attempted it before, around 2018, and it ended disastrously. TPATL exists primarily because Lloyd was the perfect character with enough conflict and personality drama to keep pushing the story forward. The tension between him making a conscious choice to be good, when his natural instinct is to be bad, and the effect that Princess has on him in suppressing a lot of those urges, makes a character driven story about him much easier to develop.

I do still use plotting and structure to set overarching plot goals, but the finer details of the story are left open for spontaneous creation. For example, I knew I wanted to write the scene where the stalker enters Lloyd’s backyard and attacks Princess by the swimming pool from the start. The identity of the stalker though, was up for debate until this morning when I officially decided who it was. I really enjoyed writing this way. Using structure when I needed it to figure out where I was going and letting the rest unfurl organically was fun and frustrating. There have been several points where I’d painted myself into a corner and didn’t know how to get out. But something always came together in the end - albeit to varying degrees of success and gracefulness. (Ahem… subplot with Lloyd and Sheriff Holbrook, I’m looking at you. That ended up taking so long that I just decided to cut it short. I deleted a bunch of content that would’ve rounded it out, and yes, I do mean deleted as in permanently deleting those chapters from my hard drive/cloud.)

Writing TPATL as a character driven story has enriched my ability to think on my feet, solve plot holes as they crop up, and write characters with richer internal conflicts. Even Princess has become more complex to the point where she’s less of a reader insert and more of a real character. Her behavior is fairly consistent and there’s an identifiable personality with its own unique thought patterns.

I even dove into Lloyd’s childhood with the Idaho subplot. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of turning the story into a massive plot sprawl. I needed to wrap things up and tie off loose ends to get back to the main storyline. In hindsight, had I planned this out architect style, the narrative would have flowed smoother, culminating in a more logical conclusion.

As I approach the climax of TPATL, I’ve found myself grappling with a number of challenges because of my lack of planning. At this point, the whole thing is a maze. It’s irritating, especially for someone averse to revisiting their past work, but it’s forced me to think creatively and find innovative solutions when I’ve written myself into a corner.

So, to answer your question: usually I’m a plotter. My natural inclination is towards plotting, but TPATL has been an exercise in flying by the seat of my pants. I’d say that this current story has been 85% improvised and 15% planned.

[dreamhot]

okay dnp comparisons with either dream or george and especially phan/dnf comparisons piss me off a lot. dan consistently denied phan, denied his sexuality, and portrayed himself in a way mean to convince people that he was heterosexual. dream has never done this. george has never done this (you can argue him saying he guesses he's straight three years ago but since then the most he's ever said is that he isn't gay, which dream also said). aside from that, which happened in a moment where he was put on the spot and pressured into saying it, he has never made attempt to cement exclusive attraction to women. never. he flirts with dream, he makes physical passes at dream, he gets flustered when men flirt with him even in games and doesn't try and hide it, he knows that people think he's queer and he doesn't make any attempt to make them think otherwise. he's shown more interest in men than women and it's of his own volition.

it's not a phan situation where they're under the microscope of homophobic media desperate for their next story, it's nowhere near the extreme and dnp stopping making content together for YEARS because of how harmful the speculation was. it's not a situation where the people around him know that he's so scared of being outed that they effectively go back in the closet for him. it's effectively the opposite.

a more apt comparison is what happened with tubbo, or what happened to ranboo, or what happened to dream. it's not realistic for every person who wants to come out to make a 45 minute long video about it, or even make a simple tweet (even that god knows that isn't enough sometimes). sometimes you need to take things at face value and break out of fear of breaking boundaries. george is an adult man who is extremely conscious of his public image and how he is perceived. if he was closeted to family and friends or if he thought there would be backlash in his personal life or if he just didn't want to be perceived as possibly queer for any reason under the sun then he has all the power to take steps the mitigate that. and he hasn't. it's not "lowkey disrespectful" for people to make assumptions based on consensual public actions (like uhhhh kissing a guy, flirting with a guy, hitting on a guy, saying "I like guys"); that's just how the world works.

Anonymous asked: so fucking sorry for the essay man 👍 love your blog

no need to apologise like i knew the comparison was Extremely apples and oranges but i don't know enough about dnp to have answered more coherently, so. i greatly appreciate the more knowledgeable explanation of the two dynamics 🙏 thank you !!

[thebardostate]

A Near-Death Experience from Aircraft Explosion

Account of a 23-year-old crash-rescue firefighter in the USAF caught by a powerful explosion from a crashed B-52 (from After: A Doctor Explores What Near-Death Experiences Reveal About Life and Beyond by Bruce Greyson MD, pg. 27-29):

I felt a lifting sensation and saw two of my buddies carrying one of the unconscious firefighters away. Somehow, I knew who the helpers were, even though they were wearing aluminized suits with hoods on, but I didn't know who they were dragging. I yelled out, "Hey, Dan, Jim, help me!" but they couldn't hear me. Then I realized that because I was the only fireman in that position, and also because my pain, taste and smell were gone, that must be my body they were dragging away. I could see everything much more clearly and felt warm, safe, and peaceful. There was a roaring noise like an explosion, but duller and more prolonged. I saw Dan and Jim get knocked down on top of my body. I was in darkness, but fully conscious and vividly aware of my surroundings. I was in some kind of tunnel that looked like what a tornado funnel would be from the inside: there was a light in the distance and I saw the spiraling strings of blue-green light coming and going like the aurora borealis. The light was drawing me to it. I moved exceptionally fast down the tunnel and it took no time at all to reach it. It seemed that time was different or nonexistent there, whereever 'there' was. The light was emanating from a being that was giving off a very brilliant light as part of his essence. He was beautiful to look at, and projected the feelings of unconditional love and peace. I also sensed other beings there, but I did not see any because I could not take my attention from the Light Being. He asked me several questions all at the same time, impressions projected at me instead of verbal word-by-word sentences. He asked: "How did you feel about your life?" and "How did you treat other people?" As he asked, every single event from my life from earliest childhood to the plane crash projected in front of me. There were details concerning people and things I had forgotten long ago. I was not proud of some of my dealings with other people, but the light was quick to forgive all of my errors. He told me to 'be in peace' and said that my work in this world was not done yet, and that I had to go back, and I was gone. I was back in my body again. I do not remember traveling there. The pain was back and I smelled the jet fuel and heard sirens and explosions. The doctors were busy with Dan, Jim, and the B-52 crewmen, but not noticing me. Later, I found out that they looked at me long enough to see that I was dead, and turned their attention to those that they could help. Two days later, the doctor told me that I was lucky that I didn't die. I just said that I did die. He looked at me in a strange way and scheduled me for psychological evaluations. I learned to keep my mouth shut about the incident from that time on.