#and just chucking it at an enemy for damage

[dravidious]

Very nice and cool you are

SO I finally started dumping my stuff on my geocities.ws account that I made like a year ago but it turns out that this site SUCKS but at least it can send .txt files so here's a fossil fighters card game that I made WAY more cards for than I thought I would

[brucewaynehater101]

Warning: Dark, Suicidal Tim, etc. Also small spoilers for the Injustice movie

Had a random thought, slightly inspired by the Injustice movie: what if Tim, in a mental health slump, decided to teach the bats a final lesson? Every time he defends himself against Damian’s attacks, he’s criticized for it. So one day, he just doesn’t.

Damian gets angry and decides to take it out on the person he won’t be criticized for attacking. After Tim doesn’t respond to his taunts, he gets physical, and throws a knife or slashes his sword, expecting Tim to get out of the out of the way or block the blow, and Tim doesn’t. The sound of a blade parting flesh and a body falling to the ground gets the other bats attention, and they turn to see Damian standing there with blood on his blade and Tim’s body on the ground.

(Inspired by the scene in the Injustice movie where Damian kills Dick by throwing a baton (escrima stick? IDK) at him, expecting him to catch it (which, earlier in the movie, he did), and Dick, being distracted, doesn’t, and it hits him directly on the temple. Accident, sure, but caused by recklessness)

Basically Damian needs to learn that attacking other people because you are angry is NOT OKAY. Seriously, if you’re pissed, go beat up a training dummy or scream into a pillow.

Does Damian learn the lesson? Or not? What about B and Dick and the others? How do they react?

[Thank you for the TWs! WARNING: This is bad batfam. I love them, but we're chucking them under the angst crack bus for this]

Tw: Dark/Suicidal Tim, domestic abuse, psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of suicide attempt

Tim is tired of constantly fighting back and defending himself. He's tired of Damian and Jason attacking him. He's tired of Dick and Bruce pushing his boundaries.

If Tim just allows Damian to stab him, *he'll* be the one to get lectured for not dodging. It will become Tim's fault, as a trained vigilante, for not preventing himself from being injured.

What does he decide to do?

Resist with extreme psychological warfare no matter the damage to himself.

He starts small.

He curates cases/stories of sibling abuse and starts to leave them in places Dick will find (hacking/messing with Dick's fyp, newspapers around the Manor, files on the batcomputer, a case Babs is informed about, etc). They aren't reflective of Tim's experiences, not yet, but they show common patterns: adult figures not stepping in, siblings being pushed to compete, escalation, negative behaviors transferring to people/things outside of the siblings, etc.

For Bruce, Tim tricks the man into reading an intimate relationships psychology textbook by stating it was necessary for a case. He then keeps tricking the man into reading gentle parenting, boundaries, and other such information.

Jason is much easier. Tim just leaves books of various siblings relationships within the man's safehouses (healthy ones, distant, cruel, enemies, abusive, recent siblings [like adoption], etc). Jason doesn't know Tim is the one leaving those books, but he is intrigued by the "recommendations." A lot of them have other lessons Tim has prepared mixed in as well [which, if Jason finds out Tim is the one who recommended the books after he starts getting along with him, then they can have book clubs ^^].

Tim sends a ton of empathy animal related movies/shows Dick's way so that the older one ropes Damian into watching them.

This takes months, but at no point does Tim relate the lessons to Tim himself yet.

He then starts pouring in warnings. When Damian tries to hurt him again, Tim asks Dick, "What if I was too tired to dodge it?" This is the only time he asks. Dick waves it off cause Damian "knows better" now. I

Tim almost gave up the game right there and then to prove a point. He held back, though.

For Jason, Tim throws in shock-value trauma dump phrases when they meet up to prevent the older one from attacking.

Jason: *pulls out a gun*

Tim: "Damn. You'd think after threatening to kill myself to prevent my future from occurring that I'd be okay with guns. For some reason, they still make me nauseous."

Jason: *holsters gun* "What the fuck?"

Tim: *nods and then disappears*

It kind of trains Jason from attacking Tim unless he wants to hear really fucked up shit that will have his mind spiraling for days.

For Bruce, Tim just points out how and when the man crosses other people's boundaries (but doesn't point out Tim's). He doesn't put any expectation or remedy out. He just indicates it to start Bruce's thought process of "Did I just cross someone's boundary?"

Then Tim feels that it's ready. He won't get blamed for not dodging Damian's attack.

So, he lets himself be seriously stabbed.

This cues Damian into having a mental breakdown. Dick and Bruce oscillate between blaming everyone else and then themselves. Jason, after seeing the shitshow of these reactions, assigns himself (without telling the others) to suicide watch Tim [those trauma dump phrases are working against Tim here].

Once Tim awakens and realizes the mess he's created, he fucking regrets it all. He doesn't want to have to clean it all up and manipulate them into being better. He's also kind of pissed at Damian for not aiming for his heart or something. Damn.

[revelboo]

Bad Idea

TFP Soundwave x reader- encounter in the woods

• There are times when you just need to get away. Reset your frame of mind. Those are hiking days. Nothing helps get your mind off work better than getting as far from other humans as possible and the woods are quiet.

• Mostly. You hear the noise first- a staticky, humming whine that sets your teeth on edge and sends a flush of goosebumps up your arms. It’s almost like the hum of a speaker left on without any music and you can feel it in your bones as an uncomfortable thrum. Caution never was your strong suit. Curiosity, though?

• Everything had gone sideways. Another recon ruined by that wrecker, leaving Soundwave to limp away and nurse his wounds. Blank visor tipping up, he watches Lazerbeak circling. Can feel the thread of worry from the drone as it keeps a lookout in case Wheeljack was following. He doubts the Autobot would bother. As raw as he feels, the wrecker had been worse. Much worse.

• He can feel energon bleeding down his side to get into joints and he catalogs the injuries one by one. It’s only willpower keeping him moving. That and the very real threat of being captured by the enemy. Stopping to let his subroutines deal with the damage isn’t an option. Too bad he doesn’t have any say in it as his legs buckle.

• You left the trail behind, picking your way through the trees toward where the noise had come from. Probably. As often as you go hiking, you’re definitely directionally challenged. You still manage to stumble on the source of the sound. Literally. You trip over a huge metal… thing. As you stagger forward and catch yourself on the rest of it, the sharp edge under your palm bites into it and you yank it back with a hiss.

• It’s big, but you have no idea what it is you’re looking at, all sharp edges and mystery. Kind of person shaped, though. Someone’s metal yard art/sculpture they’d chucked? Pulling your backpack around, you dig you a bandana and tie up your bleeding palm, eye catching on the blank, black screen on what seemed to be the thing’s head. A robot sculpture. A pointy, weird robot sculpture.

• You crouch down to study that empty screen, giving in to the urge to touch. Really, you were expecting cold plastic or glass, not for it to be warm and faintly humming under your light touch.

• Just like you don’t expect the big, metal nightmare bird thing that dive bombs you. Falling over again as you backpedal, you scream as the thing tries it’s best to gouge your eyes out. Then the robot sculpture is moving, one long arm tucking you close as your screams peter out into terrified silence, because no part of this is normal or okay. Horrible death bird-drone lights on the pointy monster’s thigh and just stares at you.

• Trying to wiggle free just tightens the arm draped over you until breathing becomes iffy and you collapse in the dry leaves and pine needles. Your escape attempts only exhaust you and aggravate the demon bird, its pointy head tilting to glare at you with a look that even with its featureless face promises a slow, agonizing death. So you give up and just lay there, playing teddy bear for the giant pointy monster and questioning your life choices.

Next

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Three)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of, stalking, panic attacks, language, violence, character death, tiniest mention of blood

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Now were getting into it! I love me an enemies to lovers story! 😮‍💨

Part One Part Two Part Four

“I-I’m going to stay with you? I don't even know you!” Your cheeks burned as you took a step back. “B-Besides, I don't want to put you out!”

“If you were going to put me out, I wouldn't have suggested it.”

“I-I—!! Satoru!” you turned your head towards your PR manager. “T-This isn't good for publicity, right?”

Much to your horror, your managers looked at each other, sharing that annoying silent communication look. How their eyes communicated told you everything you needed to know. Deep down, you knew you didn't have any other options. The best way to keep your friends and loved ones safe is to stay away.

Which is how you found yourself in a small SUV with your bodyguard. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his navy eyes focused on the road. You swallowed hard, gripping your leggings as you tried to think of something. Even though he assured you weren't imposing, you still felt the lingering anxiety of being a burden.

What was his wife going to say?

He was bringing home some popstar, a girl who had a psychotic stalker. A stalker who was obviously dangerous, and Toji had been kind enough to invite you to stay with him, even when he had seen the damage that your stalker had done.

But in a strange way, you also felt comforted. You hated to impose, but for Toji to tell you to stay with him meant he was confident in his skills to protect you. Maybe Nanako wasn't exaggerating when she told you the Shiu Kong Security Company was the best.

“If you keep biting your lips like that, you'll make it bleed,” Toji spoke up finally, breaking the thick silence.

“Huh?” You prodded the tip of your tongue against your bottom lip, wincing at the sensitive spot you had made raw with your teeth. “I didn't even realize I was doing that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been chewing on your bottom lip like it's jerky since we got in my car.” he snickered, “am I that scary doll?”

Your cheeks felt like fire as you sank lower into your seat. “I don't think you're scary; I’m just nervous.” Which was the truth: staying with a family you didn’t know had your entire body tied in knots.

“You’re nervous?” Toji laughed, leaning back in his seat as he stopped at a red light. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I mean, you heard what your manager told me, right?”

“Oh, I heard.”

The streetlights overhead illuminated his handsome features. His scar stretched out as he laughed softly, and his dark brows knitted in confusion and humor. Seeing him like that made you realize he was quite pretty, especially when he wasn't making broad assumptions about you or barking orders.

“He was very colorful—”

“Yeah, I don't know how he'd take a chuck of your side out.”

A visible shiver rushed over Toji, drawing out a giggle from you. “Yeah, well, good thing I'm not an asshole.”

“Hmm, debatable.”

Toji turned his head, mouth slightly agape as his eyes met yours. His navy eyes glittered with disbelief before a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lip. You sank back into your seat, biting your bottom lip, not driven by anxiety, but to hold back a laugh from the shock on his face.

“Oh, you suddenly have a voice and an attitude?”

“Hey~ you thought I was a pampered spoiled brat.”

“Yeah, well, you're still a brat.”

You weren't going to argue with him on that because, in a sense, he was right. Instead, you focused your attention on the road. “So,” you swallowed, feeling the need to keep the conversation going instead of wallowing in the silence. “Is uhm—your family isn't going to have an issue with me staying?” The street lights above illuminated the inside of the car as Tojo turned right on a street.

“Nah, my kid won't mind.” Toji glanced from his peripheral vision. He was good at reading body language and how your back straightened, and you quickly looked over at him before turning your attention back to the road, clued him into what you were thinking. “What? Is it that hard to imagine me being a dad?”

“W-What?! No, I-I didn't say that!”

“But your body language did.” Your bottom lip got sucked between your teeth again. “You’re pretty easy to read. Makes my job easy.”

“I am not easy to read.”

“Oh, you are.” Toji grinned, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest. “See, it’s all in the body language.”

Your head shot back in his direction, and Toji could feel your eyes practically burning holes into his skin. “Okay then, Mr. Expert. What am I feeling right now? If you’re so confident in your skills.” The car made another left as Toji pulled into a parking lot in front of an apartment complex.

“You aren't going to like it.” He said in an almost singsong voice as he parked the car.

“I already don’t like this whole situation, so let’s just put the cherry on top of the fucked up sundae that is my life right now.”

The air in the car felt thick as Toji unbuckled his seatbelt, allowing him to turn slightly to eye you thoroughly. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his shirt straining against his chest as he draped his arm over his seat. As his eyes roamed your body, you could feel the trail they left, like a gentle caress over your skin. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you shifted, keeping your arms crossed.

You were beautiful but also very tense. You kept shifting your weight in the seat, and your eyes looked anywhere but at him directly. In a way, it was kind of cute seeing you like this. Where you weren't masking or giving him attitude, he was begging to realize this was some of your natural personality—not some persona you made, apart from playing in front of cameras and an audience. The sharp tongue, stubbornness, and anxiety seem to be the real you.

But he had a feeling he was only grazing the surface of you.

You had gone through so much lately that you probably layered yourself in different coats of wax. Hiding the version of who you were before, you became an Internet sensation. Toji was only seeing the top layer of who you were, and he was given time, he would be able to peel back the first layer of wax to reveal a new color, a new trait of yours. But even if he didn’t know who you were or what you were like before the fame, you were still relatively easy for him to read.

“Okay, you keep crossing your arms; that could be due to several things. It could be that you are uncomfortable, feeling slightly defensive, or insecure. Or it could also mean that you’re subconscious is telling you that yoy need to protect yourself because you have a certain distrust in me, which is fair because you don’t know me.” From the way your eyes widened, Toji knew he was right. “Then there’s the lip.” Promptly, you released your lips from your bottom teeth. “Biting your lip is a nonverbal gesture. And it could mean a couple of things. could be that you have something to say, but you’re preventing yourself from saying it, or it could also mean that you secretly want me and you’re trying to be flirtatious.” You barked a laugh, your eyebrows furrowing together as a faint flush dusted your cheeks. “But I know that it’s because you’re having anxiety; that’s one of the most common reasons. People bite their lips like that. Anxiety, stress, overwhelming emotions.” He leaned back in the driver's seat. “And from the way you’re furrowing your brows at me, which usually means that you’re annoyed in deep conversation or thought I can cross you being flirty with me off my list of options.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead and mark that off several times with a marker.”

Toji shrugged a shoulder as he turned towards the door, opening it. “No skin off my nose; I don't care.” He got out, headed to your side of the car, and opened the door for you.

“Wow, you proved your point; you can read body language. Congratulations.”

“It's all part of the job.”

A job that he was now bringing home. Toji carried your bag for you and led you into the apartment complex. With each step you took, your mind reeled more. What did a pop star tell her brand-new bodyguard’s family? Sorry for imposing on you all; I'll take the couch. Would they be cold? Feeling like you were pitting them out? Or would they be overly fanatic with you, persistently making you feel at home and treating you like a celebrity?

No matter the outcome, one thing was sure: you hated being a burden to others.

Aside from the tests and clinical work, things were easier when you were a nursing student. When you were in school, you didn't have to stress over putting on a face for the cameras, dealing with a stalker, and not worrying about the safety of your loved ones. You would rather take vials of blood from a senile patient rather than have someone destroy your home.

A twinge of pain shot through your lip as you sank your teeth into the raw spot on your lip you had made. Toji watched as your hand shot up, delicate fingers brushing against blood that dribbled to the surface—pulling your hand back to look at the crimson-stained tips of your fingers.

“I told you you were going to bite it so hard it would make it bleed.”

“I know—I just—I hate this.”

Toji’s gaze focused on the numbers blinking as you headed to another floor. “Unfortunately, you don't have many options.” His tone was soft, almost hesitant in a way, one you hadn't been expecting to come from him.

“I just hope your wife isn't too upset.” When the elevator reached the third floor, it dinged before the metal doors slid open. “I'm really sorry for imposing you both.”

“She’s not gonna mind.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure of that?” You question incredulously, following him out of the elevator down the hall. “I’m a stranger. I would have issues letting a stranger with a stalker into my house.”

The tall man didn't say anything as he unlocked the door to one of the apartments. “Trust me, it ain't going to be a problem. This is something she would have supported.”

Toji held the door open, allowing you to step inside first. The television was playing somewhere inside, leaving you feeling awkward as you stood off to the side. Clearing your throat as Toji took his shoes off, you followed his lead, inching close behind him as he yawned, walking through the entryway.

“Megs? Hey, I'm home.” The pitter-patter of feet against the floor had you looking around Toji as a young girl, maybe sixteen, and a small boy hurrying around a corner. “Hey Tsumiki, sorry I’m late.” he reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a wallet. “I’ll pay ya’ dou—”

“Oh no! You're okay, Mr. Fushiguro. I live a few doors down, and Megumi’s a good kid.” The teenager beamed politely as she ruffled the head of the younger boy. “Plus, my mom made us dinner.” Her eyes drifted behind Toji, and she met yours. She tilted her head slightly to the side before you could see the realization hit her like lightning. “O-Oh—wait! Wait! I-Is that?! Are you?!”

Toji hissed through his teeth, pushing you back behind him. “Tsumiki—don’t.” His words went wholly ignored as she screamed.

You couldn't help but smile; seeing your fans react to you was one of your favorite things. Tsumiki jumped up and down, grabbing hold of the little boy who stared at her in confusion and annoyance, which was nearly comical on a young boy's face. But not a lot of six—and seven—year—old boys came to your concerts.

“You're too loud, Tsumiki.”

“I love you! I love your music so much!!”

Without so much as a word, you stepped out from behind Toji, taking your baseball cap off. “Thank you; I appreciate your support.” You opened your arms, but Tsumiki hesitated, looking up at Toji, who just huffed a sigh before nodding and motioning toward you with one hand.

“Go ahead.”

Tsumiki squealed, throwing herself into you and hugging you as tightly as possible. “Oh my god, it's you!! I can't believe it!” She pulled away dark strands of her hair falling in her face. “What are you doing here? And with Mr. Fushiguro on top of that? Are you two dating?!”

Much to your surprise, you and Toji barked a laugh before glaring at each other. “Hello, no.” Your bodyguard remarked with a sneer as he walked towards Megumi, lifting him. “She ain’t my type.” His words didn't sting; if anything, you felt slightly relieved that he thought the same way you did.

“Ditto.”

“Mr Fushiguro, every guy wants to date her!” The wildly enthusiastic Tsumiki shouted, finally breaking away from her hug with you. “Look at her! She's gorgeous! How could she not be your type?!”

“Well, for starters, I don't date my clients, and secondly—”

“He’s married.” You added, winning a surprised look from the younger boy whose navy eyes mirrored his father’s.

“Since when did you get married?”

Toji ruffled the boy's hair, blatantly ignoring his question before focusing on Tsumiki. “Hey, you can't tell anyone about her being here, okay? It’s for her safety, so don't go blabbing off to your mom or your little girlfriends, okay?” You felt some ease settle over you as Tsumili nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Of course! I won’t tell a soul!” her big doe eyes darted back at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “I know the line of work Megumi’s dad is in, so you’re in good hands.” Her words trailed off as she bit down on her bottom lip, much like you had done throughout the night. “But, uhm—”

It was clear that she wanted to ask you for it, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to ask for it straight out. “Tsumiki, right?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you. “Would you like an autograph? A thank you for keeping my secret?” Her eyes sparked as she nodded her head up and down. “But that doesn't seem fair enough.” you pursed your lips together in faux thought. “How about two backstage passes to my next concert?”

“For real?!”

Toji huffed a sigh, watching to see that mask you had perfected slip on. But it didn't. You were nice but not overly perky and bouncing with energy like you had been at the concert. No, this was just you being genuinely nice to a kid. You were smiling softly, taking in Tsumiki’s reaction, savoring the joy and shock on her face.

It was that look that had Toji in a sort of haze as he walked Tsumiki back to her door. All her excitement was like white noise to him as she hurried inside her apartment, bouncing on her feet as she bid him goodnight. You were something. You couldn't handle being in a car with a stranger you barely knew, but you had no issues giving out backstage concert tickets to a stranger who was a fan.

Toji shook those thoughts out of his mind as he returned to his apartment. He found you standing in the kitchen, looking around. “Do you Need something?” he asked, sitting Megumi down on the counter.

“Oh no, just looking around.”

“Ah, well, I’ll give you a proper tour later. But first,” Megumi groaned as his father's large hand ruffled the top of his head, making his unruly hair even messier. “This is Megumi, my son.”

The little boy puffed his cheeks out, running his hands through his hair as you smiled, introducing yourself. “It's nice to meet you, Megumi. Thanks for letting me stay with you and your family.” Megumi shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks slightly flushed, as he looked up at his dad.

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

“When does your mom get home? I want to thank her properly, too.” A heavy silence fell over the kitchen as Megumi’s features softened his attention, focusing on his father, who rubbed at his neck. “Oh, you haven't told her yet?”

Toji shook his head, lifting Megumi off the counter before placing him down. “Nope, but I'll let her know now; come with me, and I’ll introduce you while I’m at it.” His words were strange, but you followed him to the living room. Toji walked towards a corner and slowly got down on his knees, his eyes focusing on the incense floating up in the air as he reached out, straightening a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair. “Hey honey, this is our house guest for a while. Do me a favor and don't get all possessive poltergeist on me.” Your bodyguard turned back to you, watching the flush in your cheeks fade as he tilted his head toward the altar. “This is my wife, my late wife.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

Til’ the Day Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO MDNI)

@justagirl-with-aphone @flowerpot113 @elitesanjisimp @fandomtrash5092 @zoroisminty @imoutofpot @your-mum3000 @lemonmoonmochi @heymickyy @waterfal-ling @thickemadame

[on-a-lucky-tide]

fun things to inflict on a pilot who bases his value on how useful he is to others:

temporary blindness >:3c

141 accidentally pierce an old mustard gas canister during an operation. Nik takes the brunt.

cw: injury, temporary blindness, distressed character.

Price paced up and down the base hospital ward wringing his hands as he waited for news, his heart in his throat. The mission had gone south so bloody quickly, and no matter how many times he retraced their steps, Price couldn't pinpoint the exact action that had caused such a monumental fuck up.

Old world war one bunker. Old old. The perfect place for a terrorist cell to store chemical weapons, or at least a lead to them. They had jumped early that morning with Nik because it was in east Germany and he had the knowledge they needed to break through the security systems. The USSR had used it as a base of operations during the Cold War, so without Nik, getting in would have been like chipping away at granite with a toothpick.

They got in. They secured the intelligence - no bloody weapons though - and were on their way out. A small detachment of enemy combatants had infiltrated through a different entrance that hadn't been recorded on the schematics they were working from. There had been an exchange of fire. A stray bullet caught a canister and...

Nik ignored the most fundamental rule of chemical warfare. You sort your own fucking mask first. But no, the stupid wanker grabbed for Gaz's first, because he was closest to the explosion and had only a split second to react.

Nik had been too slow with his own as a result.

Holding Nik in the casevac had been one of the most difficult experiences of Price's life. The skin lesions across his face had been like second degree burns, his eyes swollen shut, streaming. Anywhere there was moisture, the old gas had attacked. Despite the wounds, Price had seen the terror on his face as he tried to wrench the damp gauze off. He couldn't see.

"John, ya nye mogu videt! John... gdye ty? Gdye ty!" His usually calm, sombre voice, with its laid back drawl, broken and cracked in desperation.

In the end, Price had taken the decision to sedate him in the heli, one of those big hands clenched in his to keep him anchored as the drugs brought his heart rate under control and soothed his panic. He had lashed out at Gaz blindly - "otyebis ot menya!" - but between them they had managed to get the sedative into his thigh.

There were other wounds; bumps, scrapes, but none as serious.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Gaz had rasped, chucking the needle back into the bag. "This is my fault."

"No," Price had shaken his head. "Not your burden to carry. G'won, go eat somethin'."

The door at the end of the hall opened and the doctor summoned him with a flick of the head. "Well?" Price demanded, ignoring the pursed lipped irritation he got in return.

"It's temporary," the doctor said, his arms folding. "The gas was old, degraded. Still potent enough to cause damage, but with the right treatment, he'll get his eyesight back."

"How long?"

"Difficult to say. Four to six weeks for the skin lesions to heal. His body will decide on the rest... uh, captain," the doctor reached out a hand as Price tried to walk past, "there is a risk of long-term dyspnea, respiratory problems, awful stuff mustard gas, it attacks the central nervous system too, it can cause changes in mentation, and I understand from his file that he has a medical history of--"

"--I know what's in the file."

"We may be looking at more damage here than just his eyes. But only time will tell."

When Price stepped through the door, Nik startled, looking in his direction even though the heavy bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing. Price spoke softly as he closed the door at his back. "S'just me, Nik. Easy."

Price nodded tightly, walked by and shouldered his way into the next ward. He found Nik's room but hesitated outside. Nik was awake. He was trying to grope around the table in front of him, searching.

"Captain, it is... well, I would say good to see you but..." He gestured vaguely at his head, his wry smirk shaky, and then that hand returned to patting around the table.

"Did they explain everything? Did you..." ...understand. Fuck, Price didn't understand half of the medical jargon, so he wouldn't be surprised if Nik struggled in his fourth language to parse what they were saying. Fourth out of eight. Asking felt like an insult to Nik's intelligence. The doctor's comment about mentation lodged in Price's throat like a shard of glass.

"Da. It will heal but there may be some future complications, I..." Nik suddenly slammed his fist against the table, anger twisting his mouth into a snarl, "..blyat, where is my phone? I need.." Nik's voice cracked and his chin tilted down with the shame of it, trailing off into miserable silence.

Price reached for him and tried not to let the resulting flinch shred his heart. Once Nik realised it was Price's hands and not whatever phantom his mind has conjured, he relaxed. Price sat down on the edge of the bed. "You don't need t' do anythin' but heal. We've got yer covered."

The way Nik's jaw twitched, teeth clenching at the back, his shoulders rising a little towards his ears; Price could see the clawing discomfort without needing to see his expression.

"You're gonna have to trust us, Nik. I need yer to trust me."

"I do," Nik croaked. "It is... This is not your burden to carry."

"Even if you weren't who you are, you still got injured in one of my operations."

"I let you down. And now I am useless." Nik's other hand clenched into a fist at his side, making the finger monitor creak under the strain.

"Temporarily out of commission. Not useless."

Nik turned his head away, refusing to hear it. They sat in silence, Price's thumb stroking back and forth over Nik's knuckles, giving him a point to focus on that wasn't his burning skin or the darkness of his vision.

"Nik, short of turnin' me over to Al Qatala, you could never let me down," Price said, finally.

Now was the time. Now Nik needed to hear it more than ever.

"You... mean the world to me. I..." he rubbed at his face, tugging at his whiskers, "...I love you. And when I saw you go down, my heart stopped for a second. The world stopped. Believe it or not, I was glad you were screamin' bloody murder in that chopper, cause that meant you were still here."

Nik drew a stuttering breath, but he didn't say anything. The man who had a one-liner or a bit of sass for every occasion sat in mute silence. It made Price ache in a way he never had before.

"'M not gonna abandon you, Nik. Wouldn't have even if this had been permanent. An' I know you don't believe me. I know. But... 'm gonna show ya. And you can grumble and cuss at me 'til the cows come home."

Nik's head fell back against the pillow and he sniffed, scowling with a muttered curse.

"You olrigh'?" Price squeezed his hand.

"Da. I am crying like little girl and it is stinging my eyes."

Price chuckled, patting their joined hands against his own thigh. "Soppy git."

That had to be a good sign. Tear ducts were what the eyes used to heal and maintain themselves, right? And he could feel the tears. Positive. This was positive. Price lifted Nik's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, lingering there to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nik swallowed, his fingers tightening in Price's grip. "If I had known that losing my eyes would have earned me John Price, I would have cut them out years ago."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," Price said incredulously, always somewhat taken aback by the intensity with which Nik expressed himself when it was just them. He sighed. "Yer've had me all this time. I just... I'm just not as brave as you are."

Nik huffed. "Bravo Six is the bravest man I know."

"Only for some things. Not feelin' particularly brave right now, and you're the one in the gurney."

Nik tilted his head towards Price, so desperate to see his face. Price was glad he couldn't. His damn eyes were watering. "Then, I will be brave for you. This, I can do without my eyes."

Price smiled and made sure Nik could feel it against his palm, promising him silently in that moment that he wouldn't waste a single second more of their time together on this bloody earth. "Sounds like a plan."

[tadc-harlequin-au]

If the other characters were to assist pomni in battle, what would each character do to assist? Would they take a more direct approach such as getting into the fray or would they provide some sort of support?

Some do step in the line of fire, if Pomni calls for them!

But some prefer to stay back as well. Everyone has their sets of special attacks that Pomni can tell them to do, so that boss healths get depleted more than usual. I have no idea if I want Pomni to have only one companion at a time, but I also think that two, or even having all of them as an option on the very same mission would be hella unfair.

Ragatha Azureus might be the "shopkeep" of the AU, but she can accompany Pomni in missions too. She's a short-range weak melee attacker, and will stay on the battlefield for as long as she can (but will retreat if damaged enough.) She acts like a temporary summoned companion would.

Jax Jackson Jackrabbit is long-range strong melee; but he doesn't stay like Ragatha does. Instead, he only does specials for Pomni when he's chosen as a companion in missions, and then after that? He fucks off to the side to watch. (yeah, he's that unreliable to have your back lmao, but his specials are still strong)

Lady Gangle is a short-ranged sneak support who stays on the battlefield, and while she also comes with her specials, the kind of attack she likes to use the most is to find a strong enough enemy, wrap herself around them, and literally puppeteer their bodies to help Pomni. She can't do this for long however, she gets uncomfortable and weak afterwards, prompting her to (apologetically) retreat.

Z is the weaponsmith for Pomni, but just like Ragatha they can accompany Pomni in missions. Although they prefer to stay back, because Pomni keeps saying that this is "her fight", to which Z agrees and respects. Instead of physically assisting the Harlequin (and make the fight end as soon as it begins due to their massive size), Z will instead provide Pomni with a variety of upgrades, slots, or buffs when Pomni needs them.

Kingr also actively steps in the battlefield as well; although he doesn't directly attack using his fists (due to his promise of peace) aside from one specific special, he only chucks various items such as big boulders on enemies to stun them, making him a long-range tank. One of his specials involve being a human shield for Pomni, and although Pomni doesn't like the idea, he insists that it works nonetheless.

Bubble doesn't do fucking shit except broadcast the fight to Caine.

Though he does provide annoying commentary sometimes, and the very, very occasional bites that are .1% chance and don't even deter the boss in the slightest.

[its-ironic-right]

Now how about the reverse?

Gideon dying before (maybe while protecting) Kremy.

Sometimes I get prompts that blow way past 500 words…

Where is the line drawn? Mathematically it’s between two points, but who determines those points? What gives them the right to define a beginning and an end?

Let’s simplify.

Life has a determined beginning and end. You’re born, you live, you die. (Well, if you’re lucky you die. Sometimes you just live and that’s so much worse.) The thread of your life held taut between two fingertips. That was a line drawn.

Death comes for us all. As a friend, an enemy, it comes without hesitation. In the smoldering ashes of a burnt out planet, death is the only constant. But death is known to play games. It loves a gamble.

Blasts of white hot magic fly through the air. It hits its mark with a sickening thud, knocking its victim to their knees.

“Shit.” A hissed curse, flesh hitting a wooden dock. Water laps under foot, breaks in the planks reveal white peaks. A heavy current, falling into the drink would mean certain death. Another bolt of magic, missing its target by a hair.

A roaring beast shoots out from thick woods, rending the magic users flesh from bone. Enemy neutralized for now, time to inspect the damage. The party wasn’t completely stupid. An attacker this strong wouldn’t come alone. Nothing to do but run.

“Sound off, who’s unconscious?” Kremy croaked. His ribs were broken, it took twice the effort to breathe or speak. He still needed to know who was left. A groan.

“I’m… okay. Very injured but alive.” Morning Frost was battered and broken, blood caked his fur and everything smelled awful. But conscious. Torbek looked up from his prey.

“Torbek is here. Torbek could definitely be doing better.” slashes oozed deep magenta from his side. That left Gricko and Gideon.

“Oh fuck, where’s our healer?” Kremy searched what was left of the dock. A green arm shot up from under some rubble.

“Here… I’ve got… banañas… one spell slot left.” Not ideal. Goodberries would get them through the night at least. One member left. Kremy’s heart dropped.

“Anyone see Gid?”

There was a peace that came with unconsciousness. A twilight state where nothing hurt, sinking into the bliss of oblivion. Gideon was no stranger to death. They crossed paths countless times, either by his hand or another. He wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms, more like work associates. For all his fire and bravado Gideon had a workman’s attention to detail when it came to destruction. Death was another detail.

He’s in an empty field. Rows of black dirt stretch in either direction. It looks familiar. He picks up a rock and chucks it. It flies in an arch, landing with a ‘thud’ yards away.

“Good arm.” Gideon whips around to see a towering figure of a man. He has a hand Up over his eyes like a visor, peering out to wherever the rock landed. The man looks down and smiles. Gideon is ten years old, his Pa ruffles his hair.

“…Pa?” Pa Coal winks.

“Who else?” He whistles. “Damn Gid, you really did a number on yourself. I thought it’d be another few years before I saw you again.” Gideon looks down. No longer a child but a man. A man with a hole burnt into his chest.

“Oh no, am I dead?”

“Almost dead. You’ve got a few hours before your organs shut down completely.” Pa leans down and picks up a rock. He throws it. It soars through a blue sky and lands farther than Gideons. The prairie didn’t have many ponds for skipping stones, but if you flicked your wrist in just the right way you could watch it skid across dirt. He remembers being a kid, throwing rocks into empty fields and challenging Pa to see how far they could throw them. Pa always had the better pitching arm.

“Almost dead, huh.” He threw another rock. Pa nodded.

“You took a bolt of lightning to the ticker Gid, you should be thankful it’s an ‘almost’ and not a ‘definitely’.” Uncomfortable silence passes between them. Funny how much “almost dead” didn’t bother him. Maybe it was the “almost” part. That meant hope.

“Kremy will figure it out, he always does.”

“You found a good husband, I’m glad.” Gideon blushes and stammers.

“Well, ironically my husband. More like a partner in crime, you know?” Pa slaps a hand on his back and he’s five years old.

A broken plate lays shattered on the floor of their shotgun shack. It was the prettiest thing they owned. Deep purple with scalloped edges trimmed in gold. The gold was flaking and you could barely see the vine motif in the center, but it was the only thing in the shack not meant for work. Gideon had wanted to look at it up close, to trace the lines and curves of snaking green vines. He’d attempted to climb up the shelf, it toppled under his weight. His face falls, what would Pa say when he found out? He can’t find out. Gideon pushes all the pieces into a pile. He’s placing them together like a puzzle, lining the image the best he can, trying like hell to make jagged edges match seamlessly. Tears stream down his face, he can’t let Pa see the plate is broken beyond repair. Tiny fingers coated in porcelain dust and microscopic cuts can’t put it together again. He’ll have to lie.

“The gods did not gift you a silver tongue, son.”

Gideon looks away from the broken plate. Shame crashing into his heart.

“I tried to fix it…”

“You tried to hide it. That’s not the same.”

He remembers being frustrated with the shards, making more and more mistakes until he gives up. He gathers the pieces into a bucket and sneaks out the front door. The plate is missing less than a day before Pa finds it in the tool shed.

Suddenly, pain. Deep, burning into his chest. He gasps and collapses, clutching the hole in his heart.

Its hot. So fucking hot. Is he in an oven? A forge? He opens his eyes again. The train. Of course. Metal stained black with soot, coals smoldering in the boiler, waiting for him to set them alight. He doesn’t have to look down to know what he looks like. The image is seared in his brain forever. A tear rolls down Pa Coal’s weathered cheek.

“The worst part about being dead: you can’t protect the living.” He feels the cuts and burns etched into his skin. This wasn’t right. He’d left the train, killed every mother fucker in the thing and jumped to freedom. This was a vision, it had to be. Gideon wouldn’t stay in hell unless he was dead. “Tell me the truth, son.”

“What the fuck is going on?!” He’s gasping, smoke filling every capillary in his lungs. Choking on every breath.

“You’re dying. Ever heard the phrase ‘life flashing before your eyes’?” Pa’s voice is low and sad. Steam escapes from a smoke stack, a shrill whistle piercing the air. And he can’t fucking breath. “Told you, your organs are failing.”

“Kremy will fix it. I know he will.”

“How do you know?”

“He always does.”

Everything goes dark. His stomach turns, he can breathe. Barely. Everything hurts. He’s discombobulated, soaked to the bone in rain and piss. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know where he is. An alleyway in Agwé, somewhere in the Crawdad Corner. The turning point in his life that made it worth living. He was bruised from some fight, passed out drunk in the rain. He didn’t remember how he got there, fate has a funny way of taking you places you never expect. Eyes still shut, he doesn’t want to see the look on Pa’s face. This is him at his lowest. But he knows what comes next. A whisper in the dark. Pattering rain against pavement nearly drowns it out, little words that create big waves. Eyes open to meet golden eyes. A smile, a handshake, a new life. So quick it almost didn’t happen.

“So that’s him? The man who will save you?” Gideon nods.

“Always does.” Pa Coal chuckles.

The alleyway fades into a tavern. Nondescript people bustle around, ordering drinks between lively conversation. A barmaid whistles a soft tune. Swatting wandering hands and passing mugs of ale. Gideon sips at a whiskey. Warmth fills his belly. Pa leans against the bar facing towards the door, opposite his son. Countless taverns litter his memory, but this one stuck out. A night that lived in his core. Kremy plays cards across the room. He’s winning, he always wins. Even when he loses he somehow comes out on top. It’s easy settling into this moment, nothing hurt. Yet.

“I’ve come close to death loads of times, why am I getting the full treatment this go around?”

“Never this close.” Gideon scoffed. He shot back the whiskey and turned around.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve died before. Or came close.”

“Gideon, you’re dead. Almost. I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t your brain firing its last synapses.” Grief pangs at his heart. Of course.

“So you’re not really here. Just my brain trying to make sense of everything.” He lights a cigar with his finger. The tavern moves around them. Kremy wins another hand, Gideon can see the losers fist clench under the table. His cue. He crosses the room, The cigar leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. The loser rears his fist, Gideon catches it in his hand. A headbutt and two punches later they’re running out the door. Kremy laughs. /Gid I could kiss you!/ In the fleeting light of passing windows, Kremy shines. For a second, Gideon wishes he would. They duck into an alley, footsteps run past them. Gideon is intimately aware of how close they were. He could do it. Lean in and kiss Kremy, he could blame it on the adrenaline. He could lie.

“Do you love him?” Gideon almost jumps out of his skin. Pa smokes a cigar across the alley.

“Of course. I love him like a brother.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Something rams itself down his spine, searing every nerve. The scene dissipates. Oblivion engulfs him.

Three.

Two.

One.

His time is up. He can feel it. He wonders what happened. Did everyone die? Or just him?

It’s warm here. He always thought death would be cold. He could fall asleep like this. Although it wouldn’t be sleep. Sleep had an end.

Guess that’s why it was called eternal slumber.

One.

Two.

Three.

Gideon gasps awake. He was alive. The throbbing pain in his chest told him that. Golden eyes rimmed in red stare down at him.

“Gid!” Kremy pulled him close, forehead to snout. Gideons body sprawled out from under the alligator’s grasp. Tears spilled out in streams against scales. “Oh my gods I thought I lost you! Your heart stopped-“ Gideon’s lips met his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, more weak and desperate than anything. When they broke, Gideon winked.

“I knew you could do it.”

Point A to Point B, but the interesting part was all the twists in between. Who knows who draws the line. So long as they had a sense of humor.

[srhunt]

Resident Evil 4: Who is the Merchant?

One of my favorite characters in Resident Evil 4 is the Merchant. From his shady design to him asking “what’re ya buyin?”, he’s just a fun and interesting character. He’s not very fleshed out, we hardly know anything about him. But seeing that blue/purple flame is always a comfort knowing that the Merchant will offer me a safe space to catch my breath.

As with any character shrouded in mystery, lots of people like to theorize about who the Merchant is. Some of these theories are better than others, so I wanna do a quick speed run of a few I’ve heard and then offer my own.

He’s Luis’ Grandfather: Probably the most outlandish one I’ve heard. No matter which version of RE4 you look at, both state that Luis’ grandfather is dead. Unless y’all are suggesting that he’s the ghost of Luis’ grandfather which would explain how he moves so quickly from spot to spot.

He’s a Ganado: This one I sort of believe a bit more than the first one. Evidence that he might be a Ganado is that at different points of OG RE4, his eyes randomly start glowing red. It’s really creepy if you don’t expect it. At night, the Ganados eyes also glow red. But I feel like the remake disproves this idea with the use of the blue flames. The blue flames have the power to freeze plaga, as seen with the Armadura (the Knights). The Merchant has always had a blue flame near him. The remake changes his main flames to purple, but he still has a blue flame lantern on his table. I feel like he uses that as protection from las Plagas.

Now onto my own theory;

The Merchant is a rebel against Los Illuminados.

Not in the sense that he’s gonna sneak in to kill Saddler himself, but in the sense that he only deals weapons to people who are also against the Illuminados.

The Merchant, though very knowledgeable on weapons, is not much of a fighter. If you bring any enemies near him, he will throw his hands up in a defensive position and won’t talk to you until they’re gone. Why doesn’t he pull out one of his various guns to help Leon? Because that’s not how he rolls. He’s more like the Q to Leon’s Bond.

The remake doesn’t offer a ton of new info on the Merchant, but it does give us some insight on how he feels about the Illuminados through his requests.

In his request fliers, he describes Los Illuminados as “religious lunatics”, an “evil” and “blasted cult”. He calls the blue medallions “wretched things” and wants them gone. He deems anyone who joins the cult as “traitors”.

More evidence that he’s against the Illuminados comes from something he says right before you fight the final boss.

“I can hardly contain myself! You're really gonna do it, stranger!”

He’s giddy over the fact you’re about to go kill Saddler and destroy the cult once and for all.

Even going back to the original, his shooting gallery featured Ganados as targets. It’s not that strong of evidence, but it’s worth noting.

He specifically has a hatred for Ramón, the one who single handedly ruined the efforts of generations of Salazars to keep las Plagas sealed underground. In his request called “The Disgrace of the Salazar Family”, he calls Ramón “detestable” and wants the portrait of him in the throne room defaced. You can’t damage this portrait with any weapons, so you chuck an egg at it. It’s a very small act of petty revenge, but it’s one that hits Ramón where it hurts. Ramón has a very fragile ego, getting violent towards anyone who mocks him. So someone coming in and smashing an egg onto his portrait is bound to make him furious. This hatred is even present in the original game as the Merchant has a target of Ramón in his shooting gallery, and you get the most points for destroying it.

Some people say that the Merchant is only looking out for himself and will sell to anyone, hinting that he might’ve sold the Illuminados RPGs and other weapons towards the end of the game. But I think it’s safe to say that based on how he talks about them in his requests that he would not do business with anyone associated with the Illuminados. (It’s probably why we never see him do business with Luis. Even though he no longer works for the Illuminados, he did at one point and the Merchant can’t trust him.)

In fact, I believe that they didn’t get the weapons from him, but that he got the weapons from them. What better way to fight the Illuminados than to steal their weapons and sell them to people willing to use those weapons against them?

“Why doesn’t he just give you the weapons for free then?” He’s still a merchant. Man’s gotta make a living. When 99% of the folks around you work for the enemy, it doesn’t leave a ton of people to do business with. Leon and Ada are probably the only sane customers he’s seen in a long time.

Another thing we can pick up on is that the Merchant might not be working alone. A few of his lines include the words, “we” and “our”.

"We've been saving that one for the right customer!"

"We're starting to get an idea of your tastes, friend."

“You've exhausted our normal range of services for this weapon.”

I don’t believe he’s using it in the royal way, because he uses those words sparingly. He still uses “I” and “me” when talking about himself. So it’s possible that he does have other people working with him. Maybe they’re the ones who take the weapons from the Illuminados. If the Merchant isn’t much of a fighter, he’d be the wrong person to send into the lion’s den to steal weapons. What if he got caught? So it’s possible that he has a network of spies who confiscate weapons from the Illuminados and bring them back to the Merchant to sell to other rebels.

In the Grave Robber request, the Merchant calls the twins “traitors” for joining the cult. Is it possible that these twins were once part of the Merchant’s network of rebels but then either got caught and infected with the plaga or converted of their own free will?

Another piece of evidence that the Merchant isn’t working alone comes from Resident Evil Village. The Duke, the merchant of that game, quotes the RE4 Merchant;

“What're ya buyin?—Haha, just something an old friend of mine used to say."

An “old friend”, he says. Could it be that the Duke and the Merchant worked together to undermine the Illuminados, eventually parting ways after Saddler’s defeat?

So the TL;DR is that I believe the Merchant is a part of a resistance against Los Illuminados. He has a burning hatred for the cult and anyone associated with it. He is not much of a fighter, so he does what he’s best at; BUSINESS!! He gets his wares from allies who steal from the Illuminados’ supply, which is how he met the Duke. Once he has the merchandise, he sells them to people who are also against the Illuminados. He even sets up a free shooting gallery so that his customers can practice their aim. What good is it to sell guns to folks with terrible aim, right? After Saddler’s defeat, the resistance disbanded, and the Merchant returns home.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 😉

[spiderybobcat]

Sprite movement probably doesn't correlate with how much effort a monster is giving

There's a popular theory that suggests that how much effort a monster in putting in fighting you correlates with how much their sprite is moving. Toriel (Who is extremely reluctant to hurt you at all) and Napstablook (Who skips entire turns because he doesn't feel up to it)'s sprites barely move at all, while characters that really want to kill you like Undyne and Sans sprites bob and wave a lot. Undyne the Undying has a crazy amount of movement and is also the monster who puts the most effort into fighting you. This theory seems to have substantial evidence backing it up and is often used as a reason for why Papyrus would have to be ridiculously powerful. And it's probably also wrong.

Let's look at two other monsters who have completely stationary battle sprites.

Monster kid's genocide battle sprite is completely stationary with no animation at all. Zero. Zilch. This theory would imply Monster Kid was putting 0 effort at all into standing in your way, which obviously cannot be the case.

Ok, but monster kid is just a minor enemy who doesn't even do anything except trigger the Undying fight. One could argue that they don't have an animation because they don't create bullet patterns.

When Dogamy is slain before Dogaressa, Dogaressa will become enraged. Her attacks will do more damage, the patterns will go faster, the flavour text states that she "on the warpath", and she literally says she's going to chop you in half.

And you know what happens when you kill Dogamy?

Dogaressa STOPS MOVING.

So we have a case of a monster that starts putting MORE effort having LESS sprite animation. In my opinion, this proves that Toby Fox could not have designed sprite animation with effort in mind.

By the way, if you kill Dogaressa before Dogamy, Dogamy will become heartbroken. His defence drastically drops and the attack pattern he uses become significantly easier, a sad dog chucking a single heart at the ground. The dog doesn't even do damage. A pair of monsters with differing responses to grief. One who becomes depressed. One who becomes enraged. This would have been a PERFECT moment for Toby to drop a hint as to how the more effort a monster is putting in to fighting you, the more their sprite moves. But nope, Dogamy's sprite does the same thing as Dogaressa. Just stops moving.

And honestly even without that piece of evidence the theory was still a stretch to begin with.

-Sans is sweating buckets and trying harder to stop you than he's probably ever tried in his life and yet barely sways. Moldbygg has way more animation than him.

-Mettaton NEO barely moves either. His EX form (and arguably his box form) moves more than his NEO.

-If that theory were true even regular Undyne should have more animation than anyone else in the game.

-Asriel's final form moves way less than his god of hyperdeath form.

[eponymous-rose]

Had another RIDICULOUS fight in BG3 (major spoilers for Act 3!):

So there's my Tav, Shadowheart, Astarion and Karlach heading to the House of Grief. We get into a confrontation with Viconia DeVir, as you do, and suddenly there we are, somewhat underprepared (no elixirs, no dipped weapons), facing down an even 20 enemies on Tactician difficulty.

Okay. Okay. Shadowheart is isolated from the rest in the initiative order, so even though my fighter Tav and Karlach each whittle down one of the weaker enemies, the rest have ample time to bring Shadowheart down, again and again. I'm in a situation where I know that trying to keep her up is going to make things impossibly difficult, but I hate giving up the damage and healing (not to mention I really really want her to be conscious in case the game chucks me straight into a cutscene). I also don't want to Globe of Invulnerability this fight out of sheer cussedness.

Okay. Karlach and Astarion (tied at the top of the initiative order) are nearby, maybe they can get something set up? But oh, Shadowheart's gone down in a region of Darkness, so nothing can be thrown at her, including healing potions. I'm doing some complicated mental math with bonus actions and actions and trying to figure out how to get Shadowheart up, get some health into her, and get her out of the line of fire. My hail-Mary attempt to use Astarion to break concentration on the caster of Darkness fails, so I have to give up Shadowheart for dead (at least for now) and have Karlach leap over most of the enemies and flee up the stairs to at least force some of the enemies to waste their turn dashing up to follow her.

Shadowheart is immediately killed, and Astarion (exposed in his attempt to help Shadowheart) is unfortunately right behind her. Finger hovering over the "reload" button, I hesitate. Eighteen enemies remaining, just two very fighty girlfriends (Tav and Karlach) remaining alive. Wouldn't that be a cool story if it worked out?

Here we go. I have my Tav cast Haste on herself (she has it from some item or other - this version of Haste is 10 turns instead of the lesser amount you get with Potion of Speed, there's literally *no* downside!) and she starts wrecking shop. One turn: 3 dead. Another turn: another 3 dead. Meanwhile Karlach is whittling away at a few of the enemies up on the stairs, mostly just soaking up hits masterfully with the halved damage.

Uh-oh. Tav loses concentration on Haste (there's literally *one* downside!). From there, it's pretty quick - she's downed and killed within a turn, leaving Karlach alone at the top of the stairs. 10 enemies remain, most of them magic users with the ability to nullify healing, several of which are untouched with over 100 HP.

Uhhhhhh, okay. Let's try this. Karlach is wielding Nyrulna, which does more damage (as well as some extra damage in an AOE) if you throw it instead of using it in melee (it teleports back to her hand). She manages to throw it at a few of the enemies up close and pick off one, then jumps over one enemy, grabs another enemy, and throws that enemy at a third enemy. Just barbarian things, you know?

But things are starting to look rough. I have Karlach take a Potion of Speed at some point, mainly to do some running away from the enemies to force them to Dash on their turns, and I realize quickly that said Potion of Speed about to wear off, which means I will have one missed turn where I'm out of commission entirely and Karlach (who currently cannot heal herself due to a spell and will also lose her damage-halving Rage) will be dead.

Okay. Uh. What do I have in my inventory? Oh! Spell scrolls! Those might do some good, although I'll still be a sitting duck even after dealing some substantial damage. Or... wait, is that a Potion of Invisibility?

Karlach uses both of her actions to run to a side chamber, out of sight of the remaining ten enemies. She chugs that Potion of Invisibility.

The enemies all stare at each other. The enemies yell threats. The enemies do not come after her. Her next turn comes around, and she is immobilized by the lethargy at the end of the effects of the Potion of Speed, and her Rage drops. But she's still invisible! Another round of confused enemies yelling. And we're back!

The effect preventing her from healing is also gone, so I have her take a couple health potions over a couple more turns of invisibility. Now we're back to full HP, baby! Emboldened, but before going back to raging, she walks up to the Big Bad and uses a spell scroll to cast Disintegrate. 12% chance of killing her, 88% chance of 0 damage!

And... yeah, of course that didn't work. Not sure why I thought it would. Goodbye invisibility. Hello rage.

What ensues is a Yakety-Sax-worthy chase around the level, with Karlach sprinting a bit ahead, doubling back to throw the trident at a few enemies, then sprinting away. They're going to flank her, though, as she runs back towards the original staircase. Hey, there's a door here! She has juuuuust enough movement to pop inside. Hey, line-of-sight is a thing with most spells!

She closes the door behind her.

The enemies waste another turn just getting close enough to fling the door open, at which point Karlach has done some more healing and is ready for further violence. By this point more and more of the enemies have been dropping (including the Big Bad), and we're down to just five.

More kiting, more sprinting around, lots of jumps, strategic pushes, a few close calls, and Karlach is staring down the last 23 HP of her final enemy. Incredible. Amazing. A worthy feat.

.......wouldn't it be funny if I managed to rez all the other characters before finishing the fight?

Instead of dealing the finishing blow this poor Justiciar was doubtlessly expecting, Karlach cuts and runs back over to Shadowheart, pulling out a scroll of Revivify and bringing Shadowheart back as far from the remaining enemy as possible.

Shadowheart spawns in, baffled and at 1 HP. Shadowheart also is not currently in the initiative order. Shadowheart promptly heals herself to full and revivifies Tav, lying nearby, before both are pulled into the initiative order.

Karlach takes a hit from the remaining enemy, and then again when she pulls away to try to find Astarion. Yes, find Astarion. Our rogue has stealthed his dead body off the map. She fumbles around for a bit and finally just gets into melee with the last enemy and ends her turn. Amisra and Shadowheart are up, Amisra heals, and it takes a prod from @loquaciousquark for me to remember you can click on the character portraits along the side to target them directly. Shadowheart brings back Astarion and heals him!

Karlach, fire in her eyes, chases down the remaining Sharran and takes down the last little flicker of HP.

Final result: all 20 enemies killed, all 4 of my party members alive, conscious, and sitting at over half HP.

Exactly as planned.

[largemandrill]

About those Omen with Cloaks

(I’ve found only two of this enemy variety in the game, if there’s any more of them please tell me because they intrigue me so much)

These specific type of omen are quite a rare find, I’ve only managed to find them in two areas:

Leading a small group of commoners in front of the minor erdtree near the draconic tree sentinel fight in the outer capital

2: Deeply hidden within Azuria Hero’s Grave seemingly guarding the crucible winged talisman

These locations are notably very close to one another, both being a similar distance from the main entrance the Tarnished has to the Capital. The omen in the Hero’s Grave, admittedly, has less implications so I’ll be mostly skipping over him (sorry bud)

Going back to the omen next to the minor erdtree, he’s not the only one in his group with a unique model compared to his enemy type. He is surrounded by commoners (who are normally adorned in a pale cloth) wearing pitch black clothing.

They also don’t throw fire pots like other commoners (think the ones in Fort Haight) Instead, they seem to just be chucking regular stones or maybe a pot with no noticeable elemental damage (I’ll do further testing if needed)

The next question is simple: Why the distinction between models compared to the rest of their enemy variety? The answer to this comes in a few different forms, leading with a fact about the Omen present at the scene: He uses Fia’s Mist.

This is the only spell the Omen uses, all of his other attacks are melee with his cleaver. This leads me to believe that this group not only worships the Prince of Death, but that they have specific associations with Fia herself.

The first thing I wanted to prove is that he was actually using the sorcery and not just spitting it out like basilisks and wormfaces. Luckily for me, the symbol of the Death Sorceries, Godwyn’s half of the Centipede wound, flashes in front of his hand when casted (wasn’t able to get a pic of him casting it sadly)

With this Fia association, we can also put the mystery of the unique models to rest. While much dirtier and more withered compared to her clean and soft robes, it seems like these “cult” members are mirroring her appearance. Wether any of these enemies have actually met her in person is a mystery to me. However, if I had to guess, Fia comforting an Omen isn’t entirely out of character for her. She’s always had a soft spot for those oppressed by the golden order. It also wouldn’t be out of character for Fia to gain some allies from a being that has grown to hate the GO for their entire life. Thus, these omen have pledged allegiance to her cause in some form, and to show this commitment, they adorn themselves with replication of the attire that comforted them

Also notable is the specific tree in which the omen are located. This has been pointed out before in This VaatiVidya vid (along with some of the other stuff mentioned here) is that this Minor Erdtree could possibly be the one that Godwyn himself was buried under.

These two tree’s don’t align perfectly on the map or in world, but their proximity to each other is deeply notable. Maybe there was an intended alignment that was harder to implement due to the locations of the other underground areas, but I’ll bite at the worm anyway that this is supposed to be the same tree. How else could the rotting that is only seen in this tree be explained anywhere else? The trees in the Mountain tops are broken off at the too, but this one is visibly dying in a way unique to itself.

In conclusion (?)

There is a chance that Fia’s worshipping of Godwyn is not only shared by her and TWLID, but by others spurned by the GO and Erdtree. A few Omen found comfort in her and believed that her cause could maybe assist in bringing them back into society as accepted beings. I cannot decide if this possibility is sweet or deeply unsettling.

[multifandomthoughts]

The Scrapper and the Medic

“Medic, coming through! You shriek as you hold up your healing gun, sprinting towards downed persons. You had made the gun yourself before joining overwatch. It was designed to repair and regenerate torn muscle, bone and other flesh while leaving a barrier on the body for a limited time.

Your dream had always been to join, and when you did, you scrambled to help where it was needed, even when it wasn’t necessarily the best gig. And being sent to a battlefield in the middle of the unforgiving Australian Outback would just about be the definition of ‘not the best gig.’ Two outlaws had been assigned to you, and your job was to convince them to join overwatch, or die trying.

You’re in the middle of tending to some gnarly flesh wounds when out of the corner of your eye, you see a short man on fire missing a leg, and a large man with a hook and a gas mask lumbering by. You could feel your body shriveling in on yourself as you return to your work. Hoisting the patient over your shoulder you retreat to a safer area, hoping that your cover wasn’t blown. Among the patient, you see several other wounded crawling to you in need of aid.

Shit. You think to yourself. You’d been working for a few hours and have run low on reserve ammo for the patients. You’d have to scrounge an emergency med kits from one of your colleagues in order to finish your job. Joints aching from hunching over, you rise to your feet.

You discover a med kit in the distance and sprint for it. Not noticing the trap that was laid out for you, you step in a bear trap, shrieking in pain before being caught by a giant hook. As you’re yanked through the air with a terrified yell, you quickly find yourself landing more gently than expected against a soft belly. Glancing up you see you’re only inches away from the gas masked face from earlier.

It’s terrifying at first, and you rightfully scream. The hulking man raises a hand and you fear it’ll be to crush your skull, but instead he holds a finger to where his mouth would be under the mask. “Shhh…..” You do try to calm down, and look at your leg to see if the bear trap is painfully clamped on your ankle.

Faster than you can scream, two rat like hands unclamp the trap in what seems like record time. You hobble over to the med kit as the two men follow you cautiously. As you apply medical sprays and wraps, and thanks to the advances of medics like Mercy are soon able to comfortably stand on that leg again, you turn back to face the two who followed you.

“So, it’s the two notorious outlaws….I suppose that you two did a lot of this damage, huh?” As soon as you stare them in the eyes, they look away. “I don’t condone this type of damage to civilians, but what if I told you that you could be paid to do this to our enemies, or even…..omnics?”

They both perk up with interest when you say that, before Junkrat slumps again and gives you a wary eye. “You looking to put us on that stupid team then? Trying to make us ‘sociopaths’ into good little kiddie scouts? You can take your offer and chuck it in a ute, but gold star for effort, you fuckin champion.” “That’s real adorable that you’re trying to get us to join, but we ain’t taking it. It’s a shame, because I thought you were cute.” Roadhog chimes in.

He thought you were cute? That’s a first….trying to recruit someone to your side, and they call you cute. You stand there stunned, cheeks flushing as you just silently look down at your feet. “Aw, did we hurt the lil’ sheila’s feelings? You didn’t really think that was going to work on us, did you?”

You give a shrug and a sigh, but hope doesn’t fully leave you. Pulling out a notepad, you jot something down and hand it to Roadhog. Junkrat doesn’t like the look of that and jabs his finger in your face accusingly. “And what’s that then? A helpline for your good guy club if we suddenly change our minds?”

You shake your head with a grin and hold it out for the bigger man to see clearly. “Nope. He said I’m cute, so I’m giving him MY number. Call me sometime, we can just go out and not talk about Overwatch at all… unless you end up deciding you want to. But I’m sure there’s a lot more we can say, and do.”

“Maybe I should join then…if it means I get to see you daily…” Roadhog mumbles. “WHAT??” Junkrat screams. “You’re not actually considering doing it are you.” “Not considering. I will.” You swear you can see junkrat blow a gasket, and he paces around the area a bit cursing under his breath. Finally he comes back to you, and territorially wraps an arm around Roadhog’s. “Well you’re not taking my best mate all for your lonesome, we’re a package deal. So I’m coming with, to make sure you don’t ruin what makes him so much fun!” “Do you mean his reckless destruction of property?” “Yeah!” You just smile at the scrawny man. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Welcome to Overwatch, boys.”

[greiiliss]

Cleo's running from the infected, scrambling up the mountainous mesa. Except, no, they're up there too, she realizes, shielding the sun out of her eyes as she makes out a few shadowed figures at the top. So she turns tail and starts half-running, half-sliding down the sandy slope.

"Over here!" Martyn hisses, gesturing towards her and ducking into a random cave.

If she weren't in such a pressing situation, she might've actually considered it. Might've followed Martyn to whatever trap he was trying to lead her to, stepped out of the way at the last second, and mocked him relentlessly when it failed. If she wasn't running for her life, she could've taken a second to smile at the indignant squawks he'd make while she laughed.

But she is running for her life, and Martyn's red, and she knows all too well that he's not particularly trustworthy even when he's not, so she doesn't even need to think twice as she starts digging into her pockets. "No, thank you, I'm going this way!" she shouts, chucking an ender pearl as far in the opposite direction as she can.

...

Martyn hears Cleo teleport away, and the zombified yellows and reds chase after her. He huffs in frustration. This is, what, the fourth time he's tried to do this stupid task? And it still hasn't worked!

It brings back memories, though, he thinks, giving each other advice and running from enemies. There's even a couple wardens running around somewhere, just like old times! He smiles a bit, remembering how many fishing rods it took to kill just the one. How many would they need this time?

And then the smile falls from his face as he remembers something else, something less pleasant. Feeling his own hand shoving at his back, the hard yank on his heart as the invisible string around it was pulled down, down, down, and then splat! Every bone in his body breaking and every nerve on fire as he hit ground that he didn't actually hit. He'd respawned in his own bleeding heart, panting and pained and apologetic. Fall damage isn't the most pleasant way to go, and he would know, he's died in a lot of different ways now.

He spots where the zombies are searching for Cleo after having (comically) lost her yet again, and then glances back at the mostly-covered-up pit behind him. He puts his pick back into his inventory and picks up his task book. He heads out of the cave, wondering if maybe he should go to the Secret Keeper and re-roll. For no reason in particular, of course, he just wants to be able to actually get something done this session, that's all!

He falls a bit as he goes down the mountain, barely avoiding losing a precious half a heart, and the heart in his chest skips a beat. The phrase "bad at maths" swirls around his head, and he winces.

Sometimes it's better for a trap to fail.

[driftwithme]

Right now I'm kinda sick which means I have no brainpower to talk about this properly or at least how I want to.

Subject at hand: Mako, Chuck and Raleigh all had an specific item in the movie that kinda explains or contains them as characters.

Mako and her relationship with swords is the obvious example. If you'll permit me to call it her motif, then let that be it. For the sake of storytelling, Mako is given an object that is the summary of her struggles and dreams, of her traumas and her hope. Swords are part of her heritage, given that his dad dedicated his life to making them. An item capable of both great damage and impossible beauty, the movie even adapts it to be more like the girl itself: chainswords that stay hidden and silently away for their turn to strike, capable of flexibility and quick adaptation, they are almost unbreakable, used to support others in need, cut straight through the heart of the enemy and provide a sure win even under great underwater pressure or up in the sky.

Mako is the girl welding the sword and she's the one crafting the sword from scratch designing it and she's the sword itself, okay?

Mako's a weapon in the context of she being a soldier. She's deadly, trained to kill, efficient with a perfect score in combat simulations, one of the brightest in the Jaeger Program. But she is also a craft in the sense of being someone intricate, because her story is way more complex than people imagine. She is beautiful as a woman, delicate in her ways of treating others, elegant in her movements...

In this case, the objectification serves a more artistic purpose. Whenever you think of the chainsword, you think of Mako and the other way around. Her scene killing Otachi in the name of her family is her breakthrough in the movie, where she achieves her dream/goal, when all she has gone through pays off. Then the scene where she uses the chainsword to oin Slattern to G. Danger is the culmination of her arc to say so: now she will kill the Kaiju that killed her adoptive father and will finally put an end of the apocalypse.

Without having to make it explicit in the film, you know that Mako gave those chainswords to G. Danger during the restoration program hoping that it'd be somehow her jaeger, that she'd finally become a ranger piloting it, etc.

Now, I said something similar can be found looking at the depiction of both Chuck and Raleigh in the movie. That's because, to me at least, the narrative does something similar in Chuck-Max and Raleigh-his photographs.

Raleigh is our narrator, our protagonist, we see the world through his eyes. I guess the thesis hear is that Raleigh is the man behind the camera, guiding our perception of this fictional world. Photographs can be intimate, int he way they reveal the interest of the one taking them. In sharing with us the concept of Raleigh having photography as his hobby, the story reveals us a man oriented to details and sensitive to the art of framing an instant, telling a story in one snap.

It also tells just how sentimental he is, how much he loved his home, his brother, 'cause he was surviving with rations at the end of the world but wherever he traveled, he took his pictures with him, put them on the walls of his residency. He's then a man who likes to take a look at the past. He said it himself: he spent 5 years on the past, never thinking of how the future would be. Nostalgic or even melancholic, but ultimately willing to make new good and bad memories and capture them for posterity. Loyal, down to earth in the sense that he knows where he came and what made him the way he is, sensible and patient, likes walking around cities or touring maybe, which is interesting really. For all the cocky American dream of a man the movie suggests he was, he didn't have posters of action movies or pics of him in fights or any of that. He had pics of architecture, nice tiny shots that suggest calmness, a steady hand and a more passive spirit. It really matches Mako Mori in that sense.

I could dive more into the subjects of how his photographs characterize Raleigh Becket, but I'm not lying when I say I'm feeling sick and my brain is kinda foggy.

I'll close this post talking about Chuck and his relationship with Max instead.

One of the first things I noticed on my last rewatch is just how many times Chuck and Max are practically switching roles in the film

As in Chuck gets treated like a dog and Max gets treated like a son. As in they are one and the same sometimes, given that Max is the vehicle of Chuck's repressed emotions, since he refuses to let them out openly. As in Max is the representation of the intricate rituals the Hansens use to communicate the things they cannot say but want to.

I'll try explain it quickly using two scenes from the movie, okay?

First one: when Pentecost and Mako were showing Raleigh the jaeger bay on the Hong Kong Shatterdome and the Hansens arrived just in time to greet the newcomer, Herc tells someone to stay but he is not talking to Max.

His clipped tone given as a short command surprised me because it sounded like the one you'd give your dog when you see someone or some other dog approaching. Now, if you know your dog is a troublemaker and if you have trained, you could give the command to tell him to stay away from the trouble.

But Max runs freely to Mako and Herc only jokes about how Max is always slobbering over pretty girls, a comment you'd expect from a dad about his teenage son. He doesn't tell Max to stop. He doesn't even look at the dog as he's talking with Raleigh.

The one who stayed behind, grounded, was Chuck. This alone tells us so much about the Hansens and their stiff relationship. Chuck is the dog who might bite, the one you need to pull the leash to avoid him attacking. Herc is not a perfect man but here it's obvious he did fuck up as a dad. He gives orders like he's a commander and Chuck a subordinate. Stay.

(I can't remember exactly the dialogue, so you might forgive any discrepancy. What I know is that Herc told Chuck to stay behind while he greeted Raleigh, meaning that Herc knew Chuck might cause a scene. What did he know about Chuck and Raleigh and why did he tell Chuck to stay behind?).

The second scene: on the farewell moment before Operation Pitfall, Chuck kneels to pet Max one last time and tells him to take care of Herc (or was it the other way around?).

I choose this moment to defend my point because here? Here Chuck is assigning Max as his replacement. Not in the mean way, of course, but he acknowledges that his dad might lose his only son and trying to soften the blow, he gives Herc one last mission: to take care of Max and also let Max take care of him. Max is an extension of Chuck, so it's a way of saying that their bond stays there and they will ALWAYS take care of each other, it doesn't matter if Chuck dies during Pitfall.

It's also telling that Chuck kneeling to pet Max is a metaphor for Chuck asking Herc for forgiveness. All his intentions go to Max in that sense. Now Chuck has become Max and Max will always be Chuck. Now, man and dog are one, because the dog has taken Chuck's place as Herc's son and Chuck is the dog that gets send to die at the bottom of the ocean, some fucked up version of Laika up in space.

That's why we see almost every pilot eating at least once in the movie, but not Chuck. He was feeding Max and once it was over, they both walked away like the food was not on Max's belly but Chuck's. That's why Max and Chuck almost never interact with someone at the same time.

Chuck is the kid who got instructed but not raised by his dad. He's the war dog with an impressive killing count that doesn't get to brag because he barks too much and he's not nice to strangers. He is, to any means, just an scared animal behaving like he was taught to. He is confused and jealous when Herc gives his attention (and affection in Chuck's eyes) to someone else. Chuck is desperate to be told he's a good boy, he's enough, he's loved and appreciated. He lashes out when he feels threatened or cornered and he gives puppy eyes meaning "sorry" when he knows he has fucked up, etc etc etc.

An if it feels abhorrent to reduce Chuck to the role of a dog, it speaks volumes about the way he got treated in the movie. In the end, the only thing he really wins during the movie is to be called his father's son. You can argue "but Shan, doesn't he also wins the respect of most characters?" and I'd tell you that it's a sad sad thing that the only way you can get others to acknowledge you as a good man is by exploding yourself at the bottom of the ocean.

I'm not talking about Mako or Raleigh here, because through Max, we know that Mako and Chuck could be friends but in the movie all we get is a tense relationship summarized in maybe one exchange of words (that got Chuck beaten up by the way). And when it comes to Raleigh, all the resolution we got was a silent apology and the equally silent acceptance of such after the Double Event, if we don't count that Chuck was on Raleigh's left side during Stacker's motivational speech

But you know those metaphors of pets being like children? From that angle, Pentecost and Herc are always treating Chuck as an spoiled brat. Which he is, but c'mon. It's not like Herc can talk much being that he failed Chuck big time and it's not like Pentecost wasn't there to witness how the youngest ranger ever to be graduated survived 5 years of actual hell and achieved the best killing count. You don't get there for being a kid. You don't go so far without maturing hard and fast. Chuck is not some annoying puppy picking fights because he's bored. He let's Max sleep and eat and okay to his liking because that's the side that Chuck himself can't be: carefree, soft, selfish in the sense of being self-indulgent.

Mako had to shape herself into a sword to avenge her family and make justice and even survive in a world that tried to kill her when she was still just s little child. Raleigh had to freeze his memories in photographs because he's by now used to tragedy and not having enough time, things ending fast, his happy days going away, losing his home and family. Chuck gave his dog the comfortable life he wishes he could have, he devoted himself to the task of giving Max all that he felt Herc failed to give him, and finally gave Max his place as Herc's son.

Which yeah, pretty much is what I tried to say in many clumsy words ejdjdkjfkfkdn:

Mako, Chuck and Raleigh all had an specific item in the movie that explains or contains them as characters.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Across the Stars - Chapter 1

Next

Summary: War has come. Barely making it off their planet alive, Don and his friends flee into the depths of space. Where they're headed, none of them know. Not until Don senses a presence calling out to him.

In an instant, Don is thrust into memories long put behind him, a gift he was never told about. Between love, death, and the impending unknown, Don's story has only just begun.

Rating (this chapter): T

Genre: Science Fiction, War, Refugees, Soul Bonds, Mind Connections, Falling in Love, Team Bonding, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

Words: 1452

A/N: another whopper??? anyway shout-out to @strangethings-everywhere for help with the title ;v;

-

AO3

or

For a time, life was good on Bnerai.

The lush forests stretched across the horizon, outlined by ocean shores with their blue sands. Crops were plentiful, wildlife lived in harmony with those who had come to call the planet home. Generations upon generations lived in peace.

Then, others who despised the joy and prosperity of Bnerai came.

Fire swept across the land, floods washed away homes. Those who survived were forced to flee and even then, only death awaited them.

Whether it was by luck or fate, eight men managed to reach the depths of space, huddled in a ship covered in far too much damage. They had never left their planet before but with the enemy on their tail, surely anywhere would be better than the destruction below them.

Whispered prayers to dead gods, murmurs of fading hope were all that was heard in the cabin, while two untrained pilots charted a course to nowhere.

“Reactor is too unstable to make a jump.”

Joe had not been born on Bnerai. A refugee from another star system, he had made his own life on the planet. He had just started to feel comfortable, convinced his luck had finally changed.

“We’re low on fuel anyway,” his copilot, Don, replied in a quiet tone, pressing a button on the console between them and flipping a switch near his controls.

Glancing back at the other men in the ship, Don pursed his lips. Blood was on hands and faces, one or two of them falling into exhaustion while others stared ahead. When his childhood friend, Chuck, met his eyes, Don looked away with a tremble and breathed heavily through his nose.

“We’ve got two tanks,” Joe tapped a nervous finger. “We could try for Jeqioav.”

Don shook his head and hit another switch. “No. Too risky. The Rin-Palad.”

With a sigh, Joe sank in his seat, staring at the vast expanse of stars before them. Don wanted to offer words of comfort but he knew nothing could ease his mind. All he could do was hope to get them all to safety and even that was turning into an impossible dream.

There had been no time to grab anything beyond the clothes on their back. Running for their lives, they had managed to avoid the hailstorm of lasers, but then could only watch helplessly as they took off from the planet. Don went through the names of his companions in his head.

Shorty. Jim. Gordy. Johnny. Roger.

They were the most unfamiliar, the ones he was getting to know a few weeks ago. Just kids with faraway dreams, their biggest worries being what tomorrow would bring.

Don ignored the rumble of the engines as he pushed a lever forward. Numbing pain carved its way into his chest, but his wavering emotions would be of little help now.

“Doesn’t sound good,” Joe muttered as the gauges stuttered.

With harsh blinks, Don focused on his switchboard. He was just getting used to this ship, understanding every little button and light. Surely, he would know what to do if it came down to an emergency. He had to.

“Where are we going?” A voice tugged Don from his running mind.

From the corner of his eye, Don saw Joe glance at him before turning to the back.

“Outpost. Shouldn’t be too far, Roger.”

Don’s grip tightened on the lever and nausea rose to the surface. It was all on him now. He couldn’t let them down, couldn’t let it all fall to pieces. They had gotten this far.

Closing his eyes, Don struggled to find his strength. He thought of Bnerai, his mother’s house surrounded by fields of bright purple and green flowers, his siblings running along pathways that lit with every step. They had to have made it. He would see them again.

Taking a deep breath, Don charted the stars in the navigator and headed into the unknown.

The hours were long and arduous. No one wanted to talk or cared to, leaving the air thick with regret and longing. Surviving was instinct at this point.

With just a tank of fuel remaining, Don switched to a lower speed, checked the radar for any enemy detections. It was quiet, almost too much so and Don’s worries began to rise again.

“Do you know where you’re taking us?” Shorty spoke, cutting into the thick, stale atmosphere.

Don wanted to lie, to keep hope alive in any way. But his pause said enough and the agitation of the other men began to seep into him.

“We’re just trying to stay ahead of the warships,” Joe answered for him.

There was a sigh from Johnny before, “Going deeper into space doesn’t seem that much better.”

Don winced, his hand flexing around one of the controls. Johnny was right. Their fuel was low, rations would run out in time too. They had to go somewhere. Anywhere. Even a hostile planet was better than the coldness of space.

“There’s a planet not too far,” Don cleared his throat.

The others waited. Being put on the spot made Don squirm and Joe’s arched eyebrow did not help. He hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. Not really. It took Don all his effort to not mumble his next words.

“There’s no history of it in the logbooks though.”

“So we take our chances then,” Chuck gave a small shrug.

It was so simple, wasn’t it? Don pursed his lips, let his head fall back against the seat. Chuck could be the pilot then if he knew so much, but Don kept his mouth shut.

“Can’t the ship tell us if there’s lifeforms?” Roger asked.

“She’s…we shouldn’t push our luck,” Joe explained. “We’re lucky the Husky Clipper’s brought us this far.”

Everyone’s voices were too loud. Don shut his eyes, tried to calm down his shallow breaths. He couldn’t falter, not so soon.

As his fears rose, Don burrowed further into his mind. It was safer to pretend, to imagine himself anywhere else but here. He saw desert sands, green towering trees, mountains and sheer cliffs. The air was fresh, wild and he could feel someone standing next to him. It wasn’t Joe. Wasn’t his family. Don wanted to look, but he couldn’t turn his head. All he could do was listen as a voice spoke to him and him alone.

Come to me.

Don snapped his head up. He was in the ship, the stars surrounding him. Joe had disappeared from his seat and Don was left to wade through what had felt like reality. He could hear his companions arguing behind him but it was garbled in his ears.

His head pulsed, heart stuttered in his chest. A storm was clawing his way out of him and Don could not stop it.

“We’ll go,” he spoke, but it faded over the din of arguing.

He stood, held onto the seat for balance as he faced the chaos before him.

“We’re going to the planet,” Don all but shouted and steeled himself as everyone stared at him. With a sharp inhale, Don found his voice.

“Like Chuck said, we’ll take our chances.”

While there were a few agreeing nods, others looked terrified, lost. Sitting back down, Don collected himself, the shifting mood sweeping over him. If only he could take all their fears, bundle them away. Don ran his thumb along the tips of his fingers, imagined he was drawing their sorrows into him. His muscles tensed, his thoughts shattered, and then there was nothing.

Despite a new weight pressing down on his shoulders, Don could breathe at last. Joe had sat back down next to him and the other men found other ways to occupy themselves. The tension had been lifted for now.

“Don't think the guys ever expected you to talk like that,” Joe smirked. “You’re full of surprises.”

Don responded with a smile of his own, a small shake of the head. “Just trying to keep us alive.”

“You’re doing a hell of a job,” Joe encouraged, settling into his seat. “And I got your back. You know that.”

From day one Joe had been Don’s copilot. It had been easy to fall into their growing trust, one word answers turning into deeper conversation. He had seen Joe walking past his house often as teens, but they never talked. Not until the academy.

Don hoped his face showed his gratitude and tapped out the coordinates to the planet. With his initial hesitation dissipated, Don found a need settling in its place. He had to go to this uncharted territory, to find out what it all meant.

Something, someone was beckoning and Don refused to fight the siren call.

[toriel-2]

cole cassidy overwatch flashbang is funny cause they were like well lets make it so only tanks and some supports have crowd control abilities so they changed his flashbang, an AOE stun, into the magnetic grenade, which you just chuck and it homes into an enemy and does 100 damage, but then they just walked back on that for some reason and reworked it again so it does way less damage but now it Hinders, it just instantly slows you down and disables movement abilities Which Is Infinitely More Annoying Than If It Were Just Flashbang. you took the initial somewhat annoying ability and just made it 3 times more annoying. should a character have a 1-button counter that they dont even have to aim that just disables all dive characters instantly. its not fun