#and they all travel through time saving people from apocalypses and having a blast

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #308: Mysterious Idol X (Alter)

today on Fate and Phantasms we’re putting together the hottest idol act this side of the apocalypse, Mysterious Idol X (Alter)! let’s see, she’s got to be good enough with an instrument to wow a crowd, have supereffective attacks against robots, and pull a giant glowing sword out of nowhere to end fights. yeah, that’s a Glamour Bard alright. but just to spice things up, we’ll still give her some Psi Warrior Fighter levels to keep things star-warsy.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: who’s a good girl? who’s a good girl? who’s a good beast of calamity? it’s you! yes, it’s you! aboojiboojiboo!

Race and Background

it’s been a while since MHX Alter, and I’m pretty sure we went with custom lineage for servantverse servants once or twice, but it’s easier to just stick with Variant Human and call it a day. that gives you +1 Dexterity and Charisma, proficiency in Acrobatics for more involved dance routines, and the Mobile feat for ten feet of movement each turn plus the ability to ignore triggering reaction attacks after you attack someone first. long before any idol goes on stage, you have to put in time for your footwork.

you’re still a Far Traveler though, so you get Insight and Perception proficiency.

Ability Scores

now that you’re hopped up on idolium, your Charisma is through the roof! you’re still from a science fiction-based universe, so your Intelligence is still a lot higher than most people’s. your Dexterity too, since you need to be acrobatic for some of your dance routines. all this does mean your Constitution has taken a serious hit since last time, though you’re still with a positive modifier. the same can’t be said for your Strength though, since this time you mostly deal damage through rocking out. and of course, we’re dumping Wisdom. you were a berserker, and you’re now a foreigner. neither of those classes are great when it comes to sanity.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: yes, most of your levels are in bard, but we need to get some physical training in before we start performing, which is why your Fighting Style is the Superior Technique, Evasive Footwork. with this, you can add a d6 to your AC once per short rest when you start to move, ending when you stop. dance fucker dance, they never had a chance. to hit you.

you also learn how to catch a Second Wind as a bonus action for some quick self-healing.

finally, you’re proficient in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as Athletics and Intimidation checks. have you seen how nervous those nerds get at meet n greets? this is why.

2. Fighter 2: sometimes you need to play an encore, and for those times you need an Action Surge to keep your turn going for an extra action. you can do this once per short rest as well.

3. Bard 1: okay, that’s enough training, it’s time for the big leagues! just being a bard gives you proficiency with Performance, because… duh. you can also use Bardic Inspiration Charisma Modifier times per short rest, giving an ally a d6 they can use on any attack roll, save, or ability check in the next minute.

on top of that, you can cast spells! using your charisma! and your spell slots! spells like, dancing lights to dance with lights, and friends to enrapture the crowd for a couple seconds. you can also disguise self for some quick costume changes, faerie fire to light up the stage and make other attacks more accurate, and of course thunderwave to blast enemies with the power… of MUSIC!

4. bard 2: second level bards are jacks of all trades, giving you at least half proficiency on all ability checks. you can also sing a song of rest as part of your short rest, adding another d6 to your party’s healing if they use hit dice! and we finally don’t have to reflavor this one.

you also get Magical Inspiration, so your bandmates can add your inspiration dice to their magical damage or healing as well! now that’s some king singing!

speaking of healing, we might as well have some for ourselves, right? grab Healing Word so we can heal and still leave our action open.

5. Bard 3: honestly MIX(A) is so plain vanilla bard you could probably make her without a subclass at all. but we still need one, and if you’re going to be an idol the college of Glamour is just a no-brainer. with her Mantle of Inspiration, you can spend a bonus action and one inspiration use to suit up for a show. you can pick up to Charisma Modifier creatures, giving them temporary HP and they can use their reaction to move without provoking opportunity attacks. idols have to be good at weaving through crowds, and it’s just not a show without the whole crew!

once you’re on stage, you can put on an Enthralling Performance. if you sing for a minute, you can choose Charisma Modifier creatures that have to make a wisdom save or they become charmed for 1 hour. while charmed, they idolize you, but they won’t commit violence on your behalf if they weren’t already inclined to do so. they won’t notice anything if they succeed on the save, and you can do this once per short rest.

you’ll get a lot more chances to perform when people find out about your Expertise in performance and acrobatics, doubling your proficiency bonus with those checks.

you can also Shatter robots now. we’re still like, a month and a half out from your event so I don’t know why that’s important, but boy howdy you don’t like robots, and this spell gives them disadvantage on their save against getting blown up by your speakers.

6. Bard 4: use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells and more inspiration. speaking of spells, Minor Illusion will add some flair to your show, and Kinetic Jaunt helps you get through larger crowds without having to worry about any grapples.

7. Bard 5: fifth level bards not only get stronger inspiration dice, but they also become a Font of Inspiration, letting them regain inspiration on short rests as well as long ones. you can also use third level spells like Mass Healing Word now for a full-party heal.

8. Fighter 3: With most of our basic stuff out of the way, it’s time for some force powers. as a Psi Warrior you have Psionic Power, represented by psionic dice. you get to use these dice 2x your proficiency bonus each day, and you can also spend a bonus action to regain a die once per short rest. If that wasn’t needlessly complicated enough, you can use them in three different ways. Your Protective Field can shield yourself or another creature as a reaction. You spend the die, roll it, and reduce the damage by the roll and your intelligence modifier. Your Psionic Strike adds extra damage to your attack once per turn, again by spending a die and rolling it. Finally, your Telekinetic Movement lets you move objects with your mind, either moving it to an unoccupied space 30’ away, or straight to your hand if it would fit. You can do this one for free once a short rest, or by spending a die.

9. Fighter 4: Because we’re working with actual weapons again, it’s a good idea to get your Dexterity higher so you can actually use them.

10. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters can attack twice each action. Your spells are still stronger, but it’s good to have something to fall back on.

11. Bard 6: back in bard, you can spend your action to Countercharm, giving nearby allies advantage on their checks against being charmed or frightened. or you can do something better and put on your Mantle of Majesty. now for the next minute, you can use the Command spell as a bonus action, including the one you use to transform. these don’t use spell slots, and charmed creatures automatically fail their save against these spells. it’s powerful, but it only works once a day. now that’s star power!

of course your targets have to understand you to follow you, so that’s why we’re grabbing Tongues this level. all the good idols come with subtitles, right?

12. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Freedom of Movement. we’ve already gotten pretty much everything we need, now it’s just about getting bigger spell slots. and your NP, of course, but that comes later.

13. Bard 8: at level 8 you get another ASI, and this time instead of raw stats we’re grabbing some more force powers. with the Gift of the Gem Dragon, you get one more point of Charisma, and you can toss people around with your brain after they attack you. you force a strength save on them, and if they fail they take force damage and get pushed. you can do this proficiency times per day.

you can also make a Hypnotic Pattern for a sick lightshow on stage.

14. Bard 9: ninth level bards get a stronger song of rest, as well as fifth level spells like Legend Lore. If it’s important enough to count as a “legend”, you can learn more about it, getting more info the more you already know. if we’re going back to the servantverse, you’re probably going to be the one doing the exposition dumps.

15. Bard 10: tenth level bards get a d10 inspiration die, as well as Expertise with two more skills like perception and athletics. even without being a berserker, you’ve still got that madness enhancement to pahmp *clap* you ahp!

you also get some Magical Secrets, two spells you can pick without worrying about class restrictions, alongside your cantrip Thunderclap. if you want a song with more punch, Destructive Wave has just what you’re looking for, dealing damage all around you that is both thunder and either radiant or necrotic, while also knocking creatures prone if they fail a constitution save. Steel Wind Strike is more to give you actual sword skills, dealing damage to a couple creatures and teleporting behind them like the chuuni you are. don’t worry though, it’s nothing personnel.

16. Bard 11: eleventh level bards get sixth level spells like Otto’s Irresistible Dance. it’s technically in character, since your NP starts with making the enemy party dance a lil. still, what other spell could I give an idol bard?

17. Bard 12: you’re still a jedi though, so we also gotta get you a little Telekinetic. that rounds up your Charisma, and you learn the mage hand cantrip, which you can cast silently and invisibly. you can even use the hand to shove people around as a bonus action. with this, you’re now fully stocked up on charisma, giving you the most inspiration and spell power possible.

18. Bard 13: thirteenth level bards get a bigger song of rest as well as your NP, Mordenkainen’s Sword. summon a sword as an action, then you can spend up to a minute using your bonus action to swing it around. it’s not coming out of your guitar, but we allow for upgrades here.

19. Bard 14: a fourteenth level idol has some unbreakable majesty, making you prettier overall as well as giving you another minute-long transformation. with this one, the first time a creature attacks you each turn they need to make a charisma save or be forced to pick on someone else. even if they pass that one, they get disadvantage on all saves against your spells next turn. and you can even use this one every short rest, sweet!

if that’s not enough you also get two more Magical Secrets! pick up Project Image so you can give concerts throughout the galaxy and Heroes’ Feast. you’re still the same berserker we know and love under all that fame, after all.

20. Bard 15: your final level comes with a bigger inspiration die, as well as an eighth level spell. Prismatic Spray feels like a good way to end the build. it’s flashy, it’s powerful, and it’s flashy!

Pros and Cons

Pros:

with MIX’s mobility and unbreakable majesty, she’s great at avoiding combat altogether, or at least avoiding getting hit. waltz through the crowd and get out of the concert before anyone even realizes your set is over!

speaking of parties, you’ve got maxed out charisma and half proficiency on everything, so of course you’re a good party face. the costume changes aren’t mandatory, but they certainly don’t hurt, either.

let’s be honest, intelligence is usually most people’s dump stat, so the fact that you have a positive modifier and half proficiency puts you well above most characters when it comes to finding stuff out, which means your Legend Lore info dumps will be all the more useful.

Cons:

a lot of your subclass is still heavily charm based, so higher level creatures will be a pain. at least you can keep their flunkies away.

you also don’t have great physical stats, so while you can fall back on your swordplay to save spell slots, it’s not ideal.

you’ve still got low wisdom and no boost to your wisdom saves, so ironically you could easily get charmed yourself, leading to a charm-chain that takes out half your party.

[musclesandhammering]

My enduring fantasy is that, since the variants branched from the sacred timeline and are essentially copies of the main versions of themselves, they can’t go back (or else they’ll be multiple Mobiuses in the same timeline etc), unless they go to a time before or after their other selves have been born/died. So all the variants we know (Loki, Sylvie, Mobius, B-15, Casey, & C-20) don’t fit in to any point in time.

And that’s how we get a timeless found family dynamic with Sylvie/C-20 having bar dates, Loki/Mobius having waterfront dates, and Casey and B-15 tagging along for the free drinks and fish :)

I realised too much angst today, so to make it up I'll offer this alternative:

Maybe the variants can't return to their timelines bc there's already the original them there. So they're going to find another life to live. So even if Mobius does have a family, he can't go back to them. He'll have to make a new life.

ORRRR, maybe Mobius' life wasn't exciting at all, maybe he was a lonely man with a boring job, and maybe that's why even brainwashed he longs for adventure, maybe that's something that stayed with him.

So, maybe, when everything's resolved, he won't have to leave Loki, he won't have any motivation to go back to his dull life, he could go on along with the god (and maybe also the goddess) of mischief to find more adventures, never having to be bored again

[stupidcanofpeaches]

so remember this post about a s2 au where amnesiac vanya doesn’t immediately believe the obviously unwell thirteen-year-old ranting about the apocalypse and makes a rash decision to help him in a way that is not entirely expected. 

so yeah i did a thing

for the purpose of the story five is also hit with some real life consequences of wearing the same set of clothes for two weeks straight and ignoring a barely healed shrapnel wound

it’s pretty short but i wanted to share it! ahhh i should probably rewatch s2 cause i have a feeling i got a few details wrong

also quick disclaimer just in case: since it’s a s2 au and in-universe viktor still hasn’t transitioned, i refer to the character as vanya and mean no disrespect. 

Despite his siblings seemingly doing their best to be as difficult as possible because apparently dying in a nuclear blast was simply an opportunity they just couldn't pass up, Five didn't expect for Vanya, of all people, to turn out to be the most difficult out of everyone that regularly came between him and saving his family.

The worst thing is, she's successful.

///

The first thing she thinks is that the boy looks - young. Early-teens kind of young. 

The second thing is that he’s talking absolute nonsense. Superheroes? Time-travel? The end of the world?

And he wants her to follow him? No. No, Vanya will not. She has things to do - she has responsibilities. 

Even as she makes her way out of the field, he keeps up with her hurried pace. He also seems so indignant, so upset by her refusal, his voice jumps up and down as he talks. She tries not to listen lest she actually believes him. He’s her brother, he says, and if that other blond man is also her actual brother, then their family is an odd one for sure. They have super powers, he says. They need to save the world.

The only one that needs saving here that she can see is the boy himself.

Abruptly, she stops, and the boy circles her, stopping right in front of her. He's a little taller than she is, but she can’t help but come back to the thought of how young he is - his cheeks are round and his skin is soft and smooth, and he’s lanky in that a little awkward disproportionate way of someone who just hit a growth spurt. 

He’s probably not that much older than Harlan. 

And as much as Vanya doesn't want to listen to him, worry and plain self-preservation thumping in her chest, there's also something else that bothers her. It bothers her a lot.

That is a kid. A kid that's full-on rambling about the end of the world - about superheroes - and yeah, the thing that happened last night was wild but now, in the broad daylight, it seems unreal, imaginary - hard to admit that it actually happened - and he seems wired up in a really concerning way for someone his age. Something curls up in her chest as he stares at her with his jaw squared and fists clenched and she stares right back  - something like protectiveness. For all of his nervous energy and agitation, the boy seems... vulnerable. In an unstable, unwell kind of way.

And, well. He is a kid. She keeps repeating that word in her head but there’s nothing else that comes to mind. Maybe this is why he reminds her of Harlan - why she feels so worried all of a sudden. Vanya doesn't have it in her to just leave him.

So when he grabs her by the wrist, a grip that is firm - his hands are really cold, she notices, and there's a couple of thin weeping cuts from the tall corn stalks and leaves that he so carelessly tore through to get to her - she doesn't shake him off, though maybe she should. 

"You do understand that I can't just leave," she says, patient. "I have people to take care of."

"So do I!" he says, incredulous. "Why won't you - don't you get it? If you don't come with me, you - and they - everyone will be in danger. The whole world is! Vanya, just - we don't have much time, you have to -"

Now, he really does seem desperate to get her to follow him - but also unwilling to force her physically. Maybe he really does know her, from her past life that she cannot remember - why else would he be so - so nice, almost gentle, for all of his hand-wringing and demanding?

A thought comes to her.

She can use this.

"Alright," she says, reluctant, and he perks up. His tight grips loosens slightly. "But only if you come with me back to the house. I need to finish some things - I need to tell Sissy that I - that I have to go."

He gives another exasperated, wavering long sigh of open frustration. He lets go of her wrist. "That's the only way I'll go," she tells him firmly, but softens a bit when she notices him look around in this harried, frustrated way of his. His jaws are clenched achingly, and his eyes are too tired for someone his age, with an odd glint to them. 

“I can’t just leave without saying goodbye,” she adds, softer, and that phrase - that does something, because she can see him inhale sharply.

"Come on," she says, and now she's the one reaching out. She takes his hand in hers, and the boy startles at the contact, pulling back a little before seemingly forcing himself to relax - which is more than a little weird because he didn’t have a problem touching her hand just a moment ago. Is it because she’s the one who reached out this time? 

She looks into his face until his eyes meet hers. Bright, green eyes. Too bright. He really is unwell, she thinks with concern, and tightens her fingers around the bony hand, the way he did moments ago. Too skinny, too. 

He's dressed in a once-fancy looking school uniform - nothing she recognizes, no surprise there, but with an embroidered emblem on his chest and prim knee-socks and shorts - and it's all wrinkled, worn, with a dark stain on the collar and what looks like an unrepaired cut on one of the sleeves. She can smell a hint of sweat on his clothes up-close; looks like he's been wearing this uniform for a while, non-stop, without changing or washing, and his hair is ruffled, sticking up oddly in the back.

How long has he been out there, wandering in the fields or somewhere in the city, feverishly rambling something about the apocalypse, the end days, seemingly looking for his family, until he stumbled all the way out here? How many people have ignored him, when he was looking like this?

Vanya was not going to be one of them.

"Hey," she says, almost whispering, and the boy swallows. His throat jumps. "You look... really tired. How about you go with me? I'll could get you something to eat, and then I'll wrap up some things and... and we'll go and take care of the, uh. The apocalypse."

She holds the eye contact steadily when the boy narrows his eyes suspiciously. God, he really, really does look tired. She fights the urge to try and touch his forehead, to check for fever. He doesn't look feverish - but he's just this shy of being unhealthily pale, and seems shaky to her.

"A sandwich, maybe? I will make you some tea, or... or coffee."

She doesn't know what prompts her to say that, kids that age shouldn't have coffee, but bizarrely, it seems to work. The boy's shoulders droop.

"Alright," he finally says tersely, and then pulls his hand away from hers. She lets him. He clears his throat a little oddly. "Alright," he says again. "I could - I could use a cup of coffee. But we'll have to be quick, do you understand me, Vanya? We don't have any time to waste."

Sure we don't, Vanya thinks. Someone should've helped you days ago.

There's urgency in his voice, a manic sort of belief that she knows better than to argue against. "Of course," she lies instead, not particularly convincing but the boy doesn't seem to catch it.

"Lead the way," he jerks his head, sticks his hands in his pockets, looking sour and unhappy with himself.

So she does.

She can tell by the rustle that he is following her. "Sure hope your coffee is better than Klaus's," she can hear him grumble, and has no idea what to make of that. Who the hell is Klaus?

By the time she can see the house, there's an idea forming in her head.

The house is empty: Carl is at work - probably, unless he’s off getting sauced, and Sissy and Harlan - Vanya's not sure where they are. There's a good chance that Sissy went out looking for her, she thinks, and her heart squeezes with guilt and worry. She must have taken Harlan with her because it's simply not safe to leave the boy all alone in the house, and Vanya wasn't here to look after him. She doesn’t see any notes that would make it immediately obvious where Sissy went, either. 

She'll have to make up for it later - somehow - explain it all.

Well, if everything works out the way she plans it, she'll have even more things to explain. She's not looking forward to that, but she can't seem to think of another way to keep the boy safe and in the house. He's restless, edgy, eyes darting around the place as she leads him into the kitchen  - she knows he'll be crawling all over the walls in five minutes flat if they're not out of here by this time.

Thing is, Vanya's not planning on actually going anywhere with him. She has things to do - she has responsibilities. It just so happens that now this green-eyed, skinny boy is one of them.

"So, coffee?" she says, and the boy grunts in acknowledgement. When she gestures to the chair, he sits down quite heavily, the way an old man would sit down, and then puts one ankle up and over his knee, hunched over. There’s something about it - familiar? something that makes her stop and blink, and then the boy frowns at her and the moment is gone. 

She turns around, picking up the jar of that new freeze-dried instant coffee stuff that Carl brought home recently and the sugar, and sets the already full kettle on the stove.

"Milk?" she asks, and the boy shakes his head.

"No sugar, either," he says, and Vanya bites the inside of her cheek. That - that would make her plans a little more difficult.

"Just one spoon, maybe," she suggest carefully, "for the energy. You look like you could use it. When did you last sleep?"

"Vanya," he breathes out, and he sounds even more tired like this. "That's not really what's important here."

"One spoon," she says again.

He gives her a look, but doesn't protest - just raises his hand to rub his forehead. He keeps his palm over his eyes for a long, long moment, seemingly almost falling asleep sitting up - but so unmistakably tense he's clearly still awake - and that's exactly what Vanya needs to slip the dissolving pill right into the mug.

It's a good thing they keep them close by even now, though these days they barely even use them, not as much as Sissy had to before - a fact that Vanya was aware of because it was Sissy who told her that, with a soft wonder at just how good Vanya was with him, so good Harlan had less and less of those fits, as the doctors called them. 

Before, when they were frequent and exhausting, she could tell it was really, really bad by the look in Sissy's eyes, by the way her eyes hardened and glazed over like china glass - the doctors gave her a last-resort type of medicine - sedatives. Strong ones. They had the ampules for injections for when they couldn't get Harlan to calm down even a little bit, the ones where he wouldn't look at them or touch them, would barely react - the ones where he couldn't stop screaming or hitting himself whatever they did, and Sissy hated using those but they were quick - and they also had the ones that came in pills. Dissolvable pills. They must have tasted awful because Harlan hated them as well, but hopefully the coffee and sugar would mask some of that taste. Enough for the boy to drink at least a few gulps - she knew that even that much would be enough for it to take effect.

He is bigger than Harlan, though, so without giving herself the moment to hesitate any more, she slips in a second one, just in case.

She doesn’t feel good about this when she swirls the spoon in the coffee uneasily, and her stomach churns even worse when she turns around from the counter to face the boy and sets the mug on the table in front of him. When he looks up at her briefly, hand already coming up to wrap around the handle, it’s not with suspicion or tension that she expected to see, that neurotic urgency - no, it's affection, same one he greeted her with in the field. Small. Grateful. "Thank you, Vanya," he says, quietly, and brings the mug up to his lips.

Half of her hopes that the pills won't work.

She forces a smile back. This is for his own good, she tells herself, as the boy scrunches up his nose after the first swallow. It's necessary. 

"Almost worse than Klaus's," he says, seemingly to no one in particular, and looks down at the mug, deliberating for a moment. Vanya waits with baited breath. "Ah, well. Could be worse," he eventually mutters under his breath and brings it up again, swallowing the hot liquid almost too quickly. She lets out a soft exhale.

"It's the new type," Vanya informs him, feeling a little weak in the knees, and leans back against the counter for support. "The instant one."

"Ah," the boy acknowledges her, and takes another big swallow. He drinks coffee like his very life depends on it, with big long gulps; like he spent days and days in a dead dry desert without a single drop of water and this was his saving grace from an inevitable death of dehydration.

In just a few minutes, he manages to pour at least half of it down his throat, clearly itching to finish it and get out. 

Because she promised him they'd go once he gets some coffee.

He doesn't even get to the bottom when she notices his eyes start to droop, blinking heavily. He raises his hand again to rub at his eyes. The coffee mug is unsteady in his hand, and he shakily sets it down on the kitchen table. Vanya watches him, throat dry, his sharp figure in the warm sunlight - a brief moment of peace.

She should get ready to catch him in case he starts to fall on the floor.

These meds do work quick. She forgot just how quick they are.

"Are you okay?" she asks him anyway, knowing full well what's happening.

"Yeah," he says hoarsely. "Just - long week. I..."

He sits still for a moment, but then his whole body suddenly stiffens.

When he pulls the hand away from his eyes, he looks up at her, blinking rapidly, it's different - there's a horrified sort of muddled understanding that makes her face heat up. His eyes dart to the mug then back to her helplessly flushed face.

"You," he says, voice wobbling. "Vanya, did you - what did you -"

He shoots up so quickly yet unsteadily that his movement sends the chair rocking on its legs precariously until it stops safely again a step behind him. His hand remains on the table, the other hand up and out - balancing him. He takes a small wobbling blind step backwards, not taking his eyes off of her, and Vanya takes a step toward him. His fists clench, and for a moment she can see some sort of bright glow swell up around him - but it’s so quick, she blinks and it’s gone. 

His breathing is rapid, uneven. 

“No,” he manages. “No, what - what did you...”

When his free hand, the one he's not using for support, goes up, she half-expects for him to rub his eyes or try and grab something for support.

But instead, the boy brings it to his mouth - and clamps down his teeth into the meat of his thumb.

She realizes what he's trying to do all too quickly, and while he's clearly desperate, she can tell his muscle control is weakening by the second, he's wavering more and more - she crosses the room in a heartbeat, and when she tugs his hand out of his mouth in a quick, practiced motion, holding it up and away by his thin wrist, there's not much damage done just yet. All she can see is a red imprint of his teeth - not cuts. Might bruise, but won’t bleed. Good. He pulls back at it, and she doesn't let go.

Harlan does this, sometimes, when the sounds get too much or when he's trying to tell her something and she just can't understand so he gets frustrated and overwhelmed and hurts himself - to express whatever is it that he has bottled up that won't let him stay still. What this boy is doing is the same but also different - he probably wanted to use the pain to regain some control to do - something. She knows he wanted to do something. Vanya won't let it happen - he was always stubborn like that - or, well, right, he seems very stubborn, the type to fixate and not let go.

The boy stumbles back, almost collapsing back into the chair, and this time she lets him wrench himself away but hovers cautiously above him. 

He leans on the table heavily, fists clenching with an effort to keep himself standing upright - but then his legs buckle and he topples over backwards again, this time right back into the chair. His hand slams into the mug with the remainder of the coffee, sending it flying to the floor sideways. Vanya winces at the sounds of it breaking sharply. The boy's chest heaves up and down as he gasps, and he blindly palms the table, pushing at it, pushing at the chair - trying to claw himself out of it, out of the kitchen. Away from her. It's no use: his movements are underwater-slow, hazy, uncoordinated. Already, he's slowing down again from that brief burst of adrenaline - his palm hits the table top and then stops, fingers curling and uncurling weakly, and his elbow sort of pushes at the back of the chair he's now crumpling into, but all of his pushing and fighting only succeeds in flopping his body forward awkwardly, overbalancing, his own weight pulling him down on the floor - not up. He wouldn't be able to stand, anyway. His legs sluggishly kick at the floor, shoes scuffing at the floorboards.

Vanya rushes over to him before he manages to throw himself down on the floor with his squirming and crack his head open, and only flinches a little when he suddenly makes a sharp, angry, desperate whine at her touch.

"I want to help you," Vanya says into his ear, firm and calm, now holding him by the shoulders, keeping him safely in the kitchen chair. The boy shakes his head. His whole body is shaking with a frantic emotion, one that she cannot name.

"Vanya," he mumbles, slurring now. Like this, he sounds delirious. "Vanya. You're killing us. You're gonna - we'll die, Vanya, we - Vanya, we'll -"

His voice cracks. He sounds desperately convinced, and so - well - scared, she feels a little bad for doing this.

He's also barely making any sense now. Killing them? How? We?

No, as bad as she feels, she's definitely doing the right thing - he's not well, he's lost, he's scared, he needs help and Vanya's giving him exactly what he needs even if he doesn't understand it.

"Shh," she murmurs, the sound soft as it slips out from between her teeth, and the boy makes a protesting sound low in his throat. "Shh," she shushes him again, and then dares to lean him forward until his face is pressed into her shoulder.

The movement feels natural. Something compels her to do it - maybe it's because he looks so small like this, and so honest-to-god terrified in a sharp contrast from his previous pushy confidence. He pushes back at her, and she barely feels it. She can tell he’d be full on struggling to push her off if he could. 

She wants to help him. That's the entire reason she's doing this. Vanya will help him.

"It's okay," she tells him, honestly and warmly, and strokes his back over the jacket, making circles with her fingers. "It's okay, just go to sleep... we'll figure out what to do once you get some sleep, okay?"

The fight drains out of him. "Va," he forces out, words all jumbled and strained. his hands are still now, no longer pushing back at her - helplessly curled into her shirt, weakly pulling at it, hand shaking back and forth. "Va - V'nya. We... we h've to - h've t' go. P... pl'se."

She hates how despondent he sounds - the way he shakes even as her hands draw calming patterns into his skinny back. One of his hands loosens its grip on her shirt and slips off to lie on his lap.

And even like this, he's still trying to convince her.

Poor kid.

He really is sick.

"There we go," she says soothingly slowly as he leans into her heavier and heavier, "there we go. Just let go..."

She brings her hand up to his neck, stroking the short hairs there comfortingly. She can tell he's clinging to consciousness with the last of his strength. There’s some wetness she can feel soaking through her shirt right where his face is - just a little.

From her awkward position Vanya can see the broken coffee mug and a little puddle of coffee on the floor - not much of it left; he really drank pretty much all of it, and he did it quickly. The meds were designed to work almost instantly - no wonder his body was giving in so quickly and so readily.

The tremble in his body softens, and then he makes another one of those awful, stifled sounds - something like a pained whimper - and then he finally goes silent.

Vanya keeps stroking his back until she can hear his breaths even out. When she cautiously moves him to slump back in the chair, rearranging his position, and his head lolls to his chest - she sees that his eyes are finally closed, a wet trail on one of his cheeks from one of those no doubt angry, frustrated tears that she felt on her shirt, and his whole body is heavy-limp and unprotesting, and she breathes out a long sigh. His whole expression is slack - obviously out like a light.

She did it.

Vanya knows she did the right thing. Somehow, it still doesn't feel quite right - she doesn't even know who this boy is - his name is Five, she thinks he said? - and where his parents are, if somebody's looking for him - and yet, she practically drugged him, in the home of the people who so generously gave her food and shelter, with the medication of the boy she's actually looking after. 

This sure feels... illegal.

If she kept him here - to help him, of course, he's too young and too obviously unwell to take care of himself - would that be considered a kidnapping?

No, no. He said that she was his sister. An older sister, by the looks of it. If he was telling the truth, then she just took him into her custody for a bit. Because she was his older sister and had the right to do this. Right?

The worry brewed.

Still, she couldn't just leave him there, and she couldn't just up and follow him to do whatever it is that he wanted for her to do in the name of his delusional story about the end of the world.

"There we go," she whispers to the empty air. "Now, let's get you to bed."

The boy, of course, offers no answer.

///

a couple of notes: while instant coffee was already a thing back then, freeze-dried instant coffee was new. yes i specifically researched instant coffee. and also all kinds of sedatives boomed in the 1950s and dissolvable sedatives were very much thing in the 60s though they were less popular compared to the 50s when everyone and their grandma used them for everything.

and yes i keep piling up all kinds of wips on top of one another. may is gonna be pretty busy for me so honestly no guarantees on how and when this will get continued. i might add this as a one-shot to my series of short h/c snippets on ao3. thought y’all might enjoy this one either way!

also shoutout to @clementineofmine for telling me that corn leaves are actually kinda sharp so irl five would probably have a few cuts from pushing through the rows the way he did in the show!! 

[midnightsnace]

A Thousand Worlds

Summary: Fix it fic of sorts after the trauma that was episode 6 of the Loki series. Loki is in pain after discovering Mobius doesn’t remember him. He’s been living in apocalypses to avoid capture by this new TVA until he formulates a plan to get his Mobius back.

Rating: T for later chapters

Emotional angst.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

“And so that’s where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds.”

The ends of a thousand worlds. The words of his accomplice echoed through the god’s mind as he fiddled with the straps of his worn and tattered holster. The fluorescent above him flickered with every gust of wind that battled against the sides of the building that Loki was crouched down in. He slid his long legs out against the tiled floor in front of him and sat with his head propped against the wall. He sighed. Loki tapped his foot on the door of the space he was hiding in to close it, drowning out the cries of fear from the people outside in their final hours of life. There he sat waiting for the tempad to charge. Alone. Living in another world where every person he met would be dead by the end of the day. Another world where Mobius didn’t exist. His Mobius.

Was this what it was like? For her? To never be able to stay in one place for more than a day? To always see the same faces riddled with fear as they awaited their painful fate? To only know destruction, screaming, fires, earthquakes, the literal gates of hel? To be utterly alone with your only desire to live in the hope that one day your glorious purpose would be fulfilled?

Glorious purpose.

Loki scoffed. The god didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. Taking down the TVA was a complete failure. The chances for fixing the mess they started seemed impossible now as branches grew and new timelines erupted, with endless TVAs to monitor every universe. At least, that’s what Loki assumed. He knew next to nothing about what they had unleashed. It wasn’t the same TVA. Different hunters, different analysts, different ruler. Many he recognized, but they were still different people. They weren’t the same. She wasn’t the real B. He wasn’t his Mobius. And Loki was at a complete loss on how to find them again.

The first tempad he stole only brought him back to the place he snatched it from. The same Time Variance Authority where Mobius didn’t remember him and not a single file existed for Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, God of Outcasts, God of Lies. Even when he dragged the analyst through the timedoor into the roxxcart parking lot to access his memories, nothing existed of him. No laughter over silly metaphors, mischief at pompeii, not even the memory of their first encounter in the elevator. It was like they never met. This led to Loki wasting away their days hopping from one disaster to the next until his brain racked up a solution. The TVA never once did follow him. Why would they? No one remembered his brilliant discovery about the apocalypses. He could run free. But as the days whittled by, the hope Loki had began to fade into nothingness.

For awhile he kept track of the places he went and the time that had passed.

Day 1 - I finally stole a tempad and left that dreadful place. I came here first. Hoping I’d see you. But I guess that’s not how time travel works in apocalypses. No trace we were ever here. The storm reminded me of my brother. I hope to see him again one day. Now that I know we could have been friends. Everything was eventually going to be okay.

Day 24 - I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop awaiting the earthquake of 2098. Met a lovely redhead with the most peculiar of tattoos. But alas! Little does she know this friendship could never blossom in the wake of death!

Day 37 - I miss him. My brother. The pain that solitude brings makes me think of home more often. How ironic that the very place that caused me the most pain I miss. But anything is better than this. So today I visited home right before its destruction. I saw my brother. I saw Thor from afar. Oh how I wish I could have talked to him somehow and tell him i’m sorry for being such an ass.

Being there brought back memories of the silly metaphor he made using Mobius’ lunch. The corners of Loki’s mouth crept into a smile at the thought. But that smile faded away in the next second and was replaced with tears.

Day 56 - I went to Pompeii again. I stood in the shadows. I tried to picture your expressions of skepticism at my insane ideas. I tried to picture how your face lit up with pride and joy when you realized I was right. I wish I could have stayed longer but I never can anywhere I go.

He whistled like a bird before he exited through the time door.

By day 125 he had lost his will to live again. It was their fourth visit to Lamentis-1. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to journey here once more and feel both the pains of betrayal and heartache at the prospect of never seeing Mobius again. The second time they had visited Lamentis, the god decided to stay until the very last second with the false hope that maybe him facing death would create a nexus event. His mobius would come find him and save him at the last second. But the time door never came. Maybe it was because he knew there was a chance to escape and he could take it. Or maybe it was because there were so many time branches no one would care to fix a world that was about to end.

“You were always meant to be alone.”

And so this time Loki threw the tempad to the ground and waited. He watched as the lethal disaster unfolded before his eyes once more, ready to die. Alone. Alone with no one to assure him everything will be alright in the face of death. Not a single soul would know he was gone. No one would care.

But at the last second they saw something on the tempad that made them change their mind. A glimmer of hope.

Any hope Loki had, a glorious purpose he had left to fulfill, it was in finding Mobius. It was the only desire left that fueled him to keep existing. He was all that mattered. His only friend. The only person left among the universes who trusted him and saw beyond his flaws. The only person left who hadn’t betrayed the fragile levels of trust the god could give. He was his hope that one day, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

And so he found himself walking the streets of New York in the summer of 2197, on the brink of some disaster he knew nothing about. Not a single idea when it would happen, where it would occur, and what he was doomed to witness. He saw something that could potentially lead him to his destination. The tempad had given him an alert for an aura match - two of the same people in one place. An oddity. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

They weren’t just any entity either. They were registered hunters in the TVA database. Which meant one had to be from another universe.

And he knew the TVA would be coming for them.

He had to get there first.

Loki speed walked down the sidewalk frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening. He couldn’t read any signs of fear or confusion on the faces of those who passed him. He didn’t know how much time he had.

Upon hearing shouts of anger, Loki broke out into a run across the street towards the source, dodging every dystopian vehicle that nearly collided with him in the process. It was coming from the roof of the parking tower. With a snap of his magic, Loki teleported himself to the top, hiding behind a parked vehicle to assess what he was working with.

There were two agents standing about 10 feet away who looked nearly identical, one waving her arms frantically while the other looked on stoically, possibly from shock, with a pruning stick in hand. Loki locked eyes on the tempad fastened to the belt of the frantic one. Then he glanced at the one in the other hunter’s hand.

Well shit.

Now he had to figure out which agent had jumped from the other timeline. He quickly flashed himself closer to the two, but not before one caught on that someone was there.

“I was given orders by a man to…what was that?” one of the hunters asked.

Loki crouched down farther on the other side of the wall. He reached for a dagger, ready to pounce once their suspicions subsided. They listened intently to the words from the first hunter for the first clue on who to attack.

“He sent me here to grab this,” the hunter pulled up someone on her tempad, “entity and leave. Those were the orders given to me. So if you’ll excuse me.”

The other hunter planted herself in front of her clone. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’ve told me everything I want to know. How are you me? How is this possible?”

The first hunter was from an alternate timeline. Loki took that as his cue. But before he could sneak behind the hunter, he was shot backwards by a blast of energy from a ring of light.

Out from the ring stepped a peculiar man with graying hair who was wearing blue robes and an assymetrical cloak that sparked the curiosity of the confused hunter. Within a split second, the portal closed behind him. Loki laid very still on the concrete and held his breath in the hopes that the man would believe him to be dead.

“You know I can tell when someone is playing dead.”

Loki grimaced and winced as he heaved himself off the ground. He came face to face with the strange man, his hand lingering in the air where he placed the pocket for his dagger.

“You.” was all the man said.

“Am I supposed to know you?” the god questioned.

“You always manage to show up in New York again at the most in-opportune times.” The man raised his hands and Loki mimicked his movements, summoning his daggers in place.

“I’m gonna assume we’ve met before sir, perhaps in the future? I don’t know! And i’m terribly sorry about New York! Look let me explain…” they lowered their hands in their attempt to make peace with the angry man in front of him.

“Dr. Strange.” He kept his fist in the air, golden sparks flying from whatever spell he had in mind to attack the prince with. “And until you prove otherwise Im going to assume you are here for hostile reasons.”

Loki blinked. Well he’s kind of not wrong, they thought.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t prove anything else.” and with that the god blasted the sorcerer into the nearest column with their magic and teleported across the space.

Loki noticed that one of the hunters had disappeared. He assumed she had returned to the TVA. The other was charging towards him fast. He whipped out his daggers to face his attacker, but suddenly his feet were dragged out from under him and he hit the concrete hard. He was being dragged backwards, body scrapping against the concrete. So fast, that the god could barely think about what was happening to him.

When he came to his senses he cut the magic ropes with his powers and rolled across the ground. So he was dealing with another magic user, this “Dr. Strange.” Loki teleported again before he was up on his feet to where he was standing directly behind the hunter.

“D-11…” Dr. Strange said with a hint of caution in his tone.

So this was the man Hunter D-11 was working for. Before the hunter could turn around to face them, Loki snatched the tempad off her belt and snapped himself to the furthest side of the building. Dr. Strange reacted quickly and stood his ground in front of Loki, prepared to attack again.

“Loki, perhaps we can work out some type of deal. What is it that you want? Maybe I can help you. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

Offer him a deal? Nah.

“I’m done trusting people I’ve just met. All they ever do is stab me in the back.” he conjured the time door behind him.

Strange titled his head. “You do realize we can follow you right straight back to the TVA?”

Loki turned to face him and D-11. “You’ll never find me. You won’t know the first place to look.” The time door closed with Loki inside of it, before the two even had a chance to reach their hands out to follow the god.

…….

And that’s how Loki had ended up here. At Roxxcart again, waiting for the new tempad to charge up before hopping through timelines again.

He breathed in deeply as he felt the bubble of excitement, relief, and happiness build in his chest for the first time in months at the prospect of achieving his goal. Being reunited with the only one who mattered: Mobius. His Mobius.

But as he released his breath in a sigh, his chest tightened again and worry clouded his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if this was just another dead end? What if this was just another one of the countless TVAs that might exist in the vast multiverse?

At first, all Loki felt was sadness and regret in the days following Sylvie’s betrayal. But now all he felt was anger boiling deep inside him. That same unwelcome feeling he experienced after discovering his father lied to him. The feeling that harbored in the abyss of Thanos’ chambers. The feeling that never left his soul until Mobius looked him in the eyes and assured him that he didn’t have to be the villain in his story.

She had taken everything from him and he was afraid he couldn’t wash away the resentment this time. He wanted desperately to feel anything besides the pain he had known for the past year.

He needed to feel love again.

“He cares about you.”

Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He picked up the tempad and tapped the time door request for the TVA home base. He drew in a shaky breath as he paused in front of the portal.

This was it.

He was either about to be reunited with his greatest source of happiness, or find himself hiding in apocalypses again for months as he searched for another plan.

And he would do it. He would search through a thousand worlds to find him.

[ratsoh-writes]

Okay dawg- Now this one can be a little interesting. Say the main ten are together when an apocalyptic scenario happens- zombies, aliens, or even just cities turning to rubble after some sort of disaster (your choice 😌) How do you think the main ten would work together with this situation?

Let’s go with zombies! I love the zombie troupe!

Alright first of all, if they manage to all find each other towards the beginning of the apocalypse, those guys are going to be a force to be reckoned with. Some of them may not get along but they’ll never wish each other dead, and different universe regardless, there’s at least one of them who is a brother so he’s got his back

Here’s how all the individuals react:

Sans: honestly, the only way this guy would die in a zombie apocalypse is through starvation. Sans may be lazy, but his perception is on point, he has wild quick reflexes, shortcutting, and that little sneaking ability would definitely work against zombies. He’s smart too, so he’d get creative about what can be food if he needs to. Sans biggest enemy will be his own depression, but if he’s with the group, he’ll survive

He winds up being the gangs main scout/spy. They can’t attack you if they can’t see you

Papyrus: papyrus is very useful with fixing things up, like carpentry and handyman type of skills. He could easily make portable shelters if they guys needed to travel. Plus emotionally, papyrus is pretty stable and will wind up being a great rock to all the others

He’s the handyman and the mediator of the gang

Star: star is in the police force and is mainly used as search and rescue. This boy can track! Plus he’s easily the fastest of the group and extreme charismatic, so he’d make a good diplomat if they ever met others. Star is made of stern stuff and has already seen loss through his job. The only thing I could really killing star is loosing his brother and winding up alone. He’s social. He needs people or else he gets reckless

He’ll be the diplomat and messenger of the gang

Honey: ok, this guy is really going to struggle. This almost guarantees that honeys anxiety is going to pop up full force. Plus honey is soft. He came from a peaceful universe and doesn’t have the athletics of the energetic papyri. It’ll take a lot of training to get him up to the others level. Honey does have an ace up his sleeve! He may not be an expert in healing magic, but he does have a lot of potential! If edge were to take him under his wing, honey could definitely surpass even his skill.

He’ll end up being like the doctors assistant and translator if they need it. Honey is definitely the weakest link. He would not survive without the group

Red: red is pure fight, and in this scenario, his parinoia is a blessing. Red is the sturdiest sans of this group and can really pack a punch too. Plus his intimidation skills are on point. Red can easily blast away any zombies without as much as blinking an eye. Honestly he’d do just fine in an apocalypse. As long as he had someone to protect. Red also knows cars and is a pretty amazing mechanic in his own right

He’ll be the gangs front line and heavy hitter and he’s the one fixing up the cars and other electronics they managed to save

Edge: edge is definitely the guy you want in the zombie apocalypse! He was a co-captain of the royal guard so has great leadership skills. He’s a master fighter with insane stamina, and edge is an expert healer. Like red, as long as edge has someone to protect or a purpose, he’d be fine.

He’s the gangs main healer, and he’s also the guy who whips honey into shape.

Mal: this dude is even more observant than classic sans, and his fighting style is silent but deadly. Mal is the only one in the gang who can fire off a gaster blaster and not even make a peep of noise. Plus mal has an eye for value. He could definitely know which supplies are going to last the longest. Mal has experience living on the streets and he definitely hasn’t gone rusty on his lockpicking and sleight of hand skills. The apocalypse would make him a cold and unfeeling person unless he had someone keeping him on the straight and narrow

Mal is a bit of a jack of all trades. He easily fits as a scout, fighter, and supply runner.

Cash: he doesn’t have the best stamina in a fight but cash makes up for it by being a sneaky little rat. Cash knows plenty of little tricks like how to not trip alarms, siphoning gas, and what chemicals mixed together could turn explosive. He’s also good at setting up his own traps too. Cash needs a very close eye during the apocalypse. The stress of it could easily turn him back to drinking

He’ll be papyrus’ handy man apprentice, plus cash is great and gathering supplies

Oak: he’s lived through one apocalypse and he can do it again. Oaks memory may be impaired but that doesn’t mean he’s helpless. Oak still has his great senses most of the time and his tracking and trapping skills. Plus he’s got a special skill. Oak knows his wild plants. He could look at a supposedly empty forest and definitely find a meal in there. Despite that, his memory makes it difficult for him to be alone, and dulled reflexes makes him an easy target, so oak will always need someone watching his back.

He’s the main gatherer of the group, but will also handle and train any animals if they keep them

Willow: there is no way in hell that willow is going to let some stupid zombies take him or his brother out. Willow is probably the most useful one in the group. He’s an expert hunter, tracker, and trapper. Plus willow is very hard to sneak up on, and when he truly fights, he’s ruthless. His back is going to be a problem though. There’s only so much work willow can take before he breaks down

He would be the groups main hunter and gatherer. Plus he can cook almost anything from scratch

[extracrispycolonelw]

In hopes to attract some more attention to my works, I’m posting a preview of the prologue/first chapter of the 40k x RWBY crossover story I’m writing. A link to the thread on Space Battles Forum will be posted at the bottom of the thread.

Synopsis: Magnus the Red, revived and redeemed through means arcane and ill-understood, has migrated to the world of Remnant after aiding his father in breathing life into a dying empire. With his sons, he will prove himself to the galaxy and to himself, or he will perish alongside the world of Dust he has pledged his life to.

O.o.O.o.O

Beacon Academy’s library was not the most elegant structure—it did not need to be. It was pragmatic in its design, generous perhaps in its dimensions, however. Large, with open space allowing for room to grow its interior. Walls that were half-a-foot thick, comprised of materials that could resist the force of a Megaton Bomb, if it were to exist on this strange world.

Despite these shortcomings, it still managed to awe the students as they entered, immediately greeted by a gothic marvel, akin to that of an, albeit simple, large cathedral. The front doors were wide, comprised of dark, well-conditioned and well-made wood that could withstand the blast of a grenade without even a scratch, battened by flat steel reinforcements along its top and bottom sections, riveted with gold and brass. Above that door, arching up to converge at a single point from which a stone gargoyle would sit upon an arched outcropping, and above that stone guardian, was a window. Stained glass in the shape of a nigh-perfect circle, plagued by the imperfections of the tools at hand, but certainly not the craftsmanship. It was no particular depiction displayed in the colourful window, yet many students still claimed to see figures in its visage.

Upon exiting the foyer—entering deeper into the mighty library, dubbed the Magnus Librariae, the Greatest Library, this theme only continues. High ceilings are accented by light fixtures that mimic the silhouette of candles, even giving the faintest flicker every so often to perform its best imitations of a wicked stick of wax. Walls with grandiose architecture that was painted along the curved roof to depict many a battle from that Great War which ended some eighty years before. The murals and the stories told by them, however, ultimately serve little other than to add an air to the building, something it accomplished well. Students respected this place above all others—no fights broke out in its expansive interior. No rules laid out by the quaint, feeble old man that called himself the librarian, were ignored or disobeyed. Books were placed on shelves where they belonged, and they remained nearly as pristine as the day they were taken off the printing presses.

Among the many towering shelves of the Beacon Library, a single book, one with no fancy cover or elegant text upon its spine, a simplistic, yet exquisitely crafted, leather-backed tome, sat upon a shelf. This shelf contained many tomes like it, each one unique in its contents if not its cover, but this one, so simple among such elegantly, flamboyantly crafted tomes, had the luck of catching the eye of the first woman to read its contents in so very long.

Pyrrha Nikos, while not much of a scholarly type in her own right, could still appreciate a good book. A good pastime when one spent as many hours as her or her team did recovering from battle wounds or engaging in the oh so arduous and pressing task of simply finding peace. Pyrrha couldn’t quite place what had drawn her to decide to read upon the topic of history. Perhaps Oobleck’s lessons were starting to get through to her, learning of history, after all, is the best way to avoid repeating those past mistakes in the future. Perhaps it had been the simple cover of the tome, the black sheep among the flock of silver-coated, shimmering lambs. Perhaps it had simply been fate.

Pyrrha took the tome from the shelf, finding herself coughing as long-settled dust was released from its still place along the ill-searched shelf. A brush of her hand and the cover became clearer, the title in simple, bold font along the top sect of the book, not too small that one must bring it closer to properly read, yet not too large as to take up any amount of space wider than a young woman’s hand. On the dusty, sage cover of the historical text, read the title:

SORTIARIUS, THE LOST CITY OF THE SHARPENED DREAMERS.​

Pyrrha hummed softly as she mulled over the title. A brief flip-through showed the book in fair condition, with very little wear on its pages from frequent readings like some of the more popular tomes, like that of the Faunus scholar Mitellus and his reflections on the prejudice of man and beast, or the influential military tomes of Taurus Rex that taught many of the young students the advanced combat techniques utilized by full-fledged Huntsmen and Huntresses, or even that of the popular comic series, Pumpkin Pete’s Bizarre Adventure. This one was different, different enough to warrant being tucked under Pyrrha’s arm, against the bronzed cuirass of her outfit alongside the dozen other thick books already waiting, yet still a black sheep among a sea of ebon wool in comparison to the rest.

The shelves of the library were not only tall—dwarfing Pyrrha like a grown adult man to a toddler and then some—but they were dense. Sound had issues fully traveling in some places, especially the historical literature sections and discerning one’s location had become such a crisis that electronic signs would be mounted along the narrow of the shelves in order to direct students to where they wished to go. Even such a knowledgeable woman like Pyrrha found herself using the screens to get back to the main foyer of the library, the notorious two-floored, incredibly simplistic in comparison, warmly-lit main area where students gathered at tables to study and where the more commonly-read tombs were positioned on significantly smaller shelves than their taller, broader cousins in the deep of the library.

Soon enough however, the crimson-haired girl found herself weaving out from the shelves of the library and toward the wooded balcony overlooking the humble librarian’s station, situated cozily against the wall, alongside the main tables, where she would find her friends of Ruby and her wonderful team, alongside her beloved comrades in Team JNPR. Pyrrha quickened her pace, quietly speed-walking down a stairwell off to the right before emerging from past a column which supported the stairs she’d mantled. Ruby was the first to spot her, waving frantically to Pyrrha before the rest of her friends did the same, happy to see their friend alive and in one piece after her oh-so-brave venture into the heart of the library of Beacon, plentifully notorious for having many a student get lost in its winding halls for days on end before being found.

“Pyrrha! We thought you got lost,” Jaune said to his teammate with a smile as he turned to greet her, his blonde mop of hair obscuring the upper parts of his eyes as he shifted. Nora quickly bounced up from her seat like a helium-infused rocket and hugged her dear red-headed friend.

“Haha! I’m glad to see you’re safe—and not just because Ruby and I had a bet over whether you would get lost in the library,” Nora rambled as she embraced her friend, the raven-haired tiny reaper seething quietly at her seat with a hint of amusement drawing at the corners of her lips. Pyrrha allowed herself to giggle a bit at the antics of her friends before sliding into one of the wooden chairs beside Jaune, books neatly taken from the crook of her arm and stacked atop one another. Her eyes drifted curiously down to the sage-backed book at the top, the tale of the Lost City, a story of which she was endlessly curious about now. Not once in any of her history lessons, from the youngest of ages to now, had she even been vaguely made aware of this city, this Sortiarius. It baffled her mind and tempted her as her fingers graced the ribbed spine before gently taking it into her right hand, pushing softly the heavy stack of tomes off to the side in order to make room for the one which now held her full attention. Flipping it open to the front page, she was met with the author’s name and the opening words. She read the words in her mind after taking a deep breath.

‘It is in this tome that I, Helio Kalliston, noble orator of the final dynasty of the Redguard Guild of Serfs and Peasants, enclose the fullest history of the noble city of Sortiarius, from its earliest days as a result of colonization turned to migration by the various nations of the time, to its final days, collapsing at the hand of the damned Grimm…’

Pyrrha was quickly sucked into the elegant words of Helio Kalliston. He described a city borne from the ashes of apocalypse at the hands of Grimm, forged by the ancient and venerable Crimson King, a towering giant of a man who wielded the very weather in his own hands as he led his people from all the way in Solitas as the tyrant-kings rose to power, all the way across the ocean and through many villages, saving those they could from the rampaging hordes of Grimm that followed the melancholic band of knights that followed the King, whose powers were legend among the descendants of the Sortiarians. One story described a knight in full plate that carried the very hand of the righteous God of the Sun along his right arm, melting Grimm with beams of glowering orange heat, whilst the snarling, hateful axe of the God of the Underworld was clasped in his left, using these weapons to strike down any, man, woman or Grimm that dared stand in the way of him and his King. The legends enraptured Pyrrha like few things had done before—the harrowing tales of a city being forged from the fires of a Grimm-infested forest filled her with excitement, whilst the tales of the many dynasties of the philosopher-kings thrilled her, before saddening her upon their deaths upon the eve of long-gone centuries past. Pyrrha had no concept of how much time had passed as she fingered through the pages of the historical literature, allowing the outside world to bleed away until it was only her and the fated words of Helio Kalliston, the final orator of Sortiarius and its dynasties before the city’s destruction, described in the final words of the tome, written in by a second writer who included what Helio could not in the final manuscript. To think that any of this could have possibly been true, even if exaggerated, amazed Pyrrha. She lamented thoroughly how dozens of other records were used to cross-reference and act as intellectual sources for the knowledge of the tome and, though it was long, it seemed almost hollow. Reading the ending sentiments at the back revealed to her the unfortunate truth—that the tome was meant as the summary to a longer line of historical records which would cover in detail the many aspects of life in Sortiarius, from the socio-political battlegrounds to the innerworkings of the nigh mystical Redguard, the angelic warriors who defended the city to the last man, woman and child, the incorruptible few among the fallible many. How she would love to sink into the past and simply see what it may have been… however her fantasies were cut short by a nudge from Jaune. Promptly looking up, Pyrrha found the eyes of their table entirely on her. Cheeks flushed and quietly turning to Jaune for an answer, she sputtered out an embarrassed excuse to her silence.

“I-I’m sorry, I was so enraptured in my reading I didn’t even hear you if you were speaking to me.” Jaune smiled and nodded in understanding.

“I know the feeling. Those Pumpkin Pete graphic novels always have me glued to my seat!” The wholesome smile on their naïve leader’s face was something to be appreciated when it showed, Pyrrha had learn to do as the naivety—or perhaps innocence—of Jaune was enough to bring joy to both their teams in ways that would become scarce in their later years. This moment was no exception, giggles spreading across the table before Pyrrha responded.

“Well… While I can say that I’ve read those, albeit for a children’s charity some time ago… this book is one I don’t think I’ve ever heard of,” Pyrrha spoke with curiosity mixed into her tone, bringing forth that same emotion from her fellows.

“That’s so weird! You’re like one of the biggest bookworms I know, how have you not read this one?” Nora asked loudly as she came in close to her Mistralian comrade, the girl rocking backward to compensate for the distance lost between them.

“Well… I don’t know. It was in the historical section in the deeper parts of the library. It talks about an ancient civilization that was around before any of the four kingdoms, called Sortiarius.” Pyrrha explained the book in simpler terms to her younger and more… immature friends.

“It was this city that existed, well, we don’t know how long ago, but the footnotes suggest thousands of years ago! They were a kingdom, well, closer to a city-state, but they were a big one. Their government was a complex bureaucracy guided by mentor-figures called ‘The Philosopher Kings’ who ruled over the city. According to this book, they had mastered the art of using the soul as a tool that they could perform minor acts of what they considered sorcery. Although, I’m not so sure if that last part is real… ultimately it wouldn’t matter all that much, their city fell to the Grimm and internal strife long before even Vale was around,” Pyrrha explained to the best of her ability. While it wasn’t difficult in by any definition of the word, it certainly wasn’t simple by any means either. She had barely gotten through the first three chapters and it had been at least an hour. She let out a minor huff of irritation as she stared down at the book—as interesting as it was, she didn’t have the free time in any week to reliably put in enough time to read and retain whatever information could be gleamed from the book. However, judging by how the weapons were described in those opening three chapters, she had a fair idea of who might find better use of the book.

Pyrrha Nikos flipped the book shut and stretched out her arms before turning her gaze to the young, raven-haired red reaper.

“Ruby, you love weapons… you should read this. The Redguard—the city’s defense force, huntsmen of the time, they used some of the most advanced-sounding weapons I’ve read about, guns that fired some sort of energy and something called a ‘chainsword,’ among other things.” She placed her hands over the book and thumbed the cover as she asked, admiring the simplicity in the design for a moment before her eyes caught Ruby’s own orbs turning to saucers.

“Chainsword? As in a chainsaw-sword? Guns?! What kind of guns?! Sniper rifles? Shotguns? Pistols? Automatic weapons?! I demand to know moooore!” Ruby all-but belly-flopped onto the table as she got close to Pyrrha and the precious book, hands reaching out to snatch it, though the fiery-haired champion tugged the ancient tome back before her young friend could snag it.

“This book is very old, Ruby, be careful with it.” She was prepared to lecture the girl slightly, though feeling that was more the white-haired ice queen’s—as the rowdier students had nicknamed her, rather rudely—job than hers. The pouty face given by Ruby had not helped much either.

“I will! I promise,” Ruby said softly upon Pyrrha bringing the book closer. The younger girl took the tome in her hands for a moment and did the same as her compatriot—just finding a moment to admire the simple design, where so many others were elegant, vain and loud, this one was… humble. Quiet, soft-spoken. It knew that what it contained was worthy of her eyes, it was confident to such a degree that it did not need such a vain and flashy cover. A simple, leather, sage-green cover with neat, lightly-coloured, tall and bold font to display its title and the purpose of the tome. Something about it relieved Ruby’s mind as she took the book and scooted back into her seat. She slipped it into her bag after a moment of contemplation longer and refocused herself on studying.

Some hours had gone by, studying, socializing, and doing the part of students as best as could be expected of them. Eventually the sun grew tired and dipped below the horizon, allowing for the fractured moon of Remnant to rise in its place. The students, having spent their day studying, were unified with the sun in their exhaustion. So, after a long day of studying, the two teams separated from one another, said their goodbyes, and retired to their dorms. Whilst most members of the teams were quick to lay their heads to sleep, there was one outlier among them.

Through the darkest hours of the night and to the early morning of the next day, Ruby sat at her desk and poured over the tome. Vast in density with its glorious renditions of battles between the mystical Redguard, towering giants that were rumoured to be ancient half-automata half-man, and the darkest and most formidable forms of Grimm that Ruby had ever seen depicted. Real or not, the images were nice to look at and that was where most of her time was spent, for despite the thickness of the tome, it still bore little content. Pyrrha’s assessment of the book had proved painfully correct, as it referred to so many dozens of other books that were likely long gone.

Her hunger for knowledge, always satiable, overwhelmed the young raven-haired reaper and she found herself redressed and quietly sneaking off to the library in those dark hours of the early morning. As she came to those huge oaken doors, Ruby paused.

Would the doors be locked? Would this all have been for naught? No, she would get her answers. Did that mean breaking in? Or did that mean waiting till morning? There were classes and countless trainings the next day, she wouldn’t get a chance like this again. But what if she was caught?

Her endless tirade of paranoid thoughts was stopped when the doors slowly creaked open, startling the girl as the humble librarian quietly pulled the door open and stared at her. He was hunchbacked ever slightly, wearing a brown robe that enclosed a thin body, while frail, had once been muscular and built like brick and steel. His face was wide, likely statuesque in his youth, but years fighting had scarred his face and old age wrinkled the once handsome features.

“You should be in bed, young one,” he greeted quietly after a brief staring contest that might have lasted a few seconds too long.

“I-I know, but I read this book and I just wanted to know more-!” Ruby began to explain in a lapse of mild panic, only for the librarian to raise a hand to silence her as he spotted the ancient tome in her hands.

“I am not one to judge the practices of those seeking knowledge… Gods know that would make me a hypocrite,” he opened the door fully and beckoned the young Ruby Rose in. The library was quietly lit by golden candlelight, the dim flickering shading the librarian’s face in soft yellows and oranges, highlighting the scars along his left cheek, burns, cuts, gauges in the wrinkled flesh. It intimidated the girl a moment, but the knowing smile invited her into the expansive library, and she took the offer gladly, clutching the sage-backed tome in her arms as she entered Beacon Library, the door closing behind her softly.

Soon, Ruby was sitting with a small stack of disappointingly thin tomes that could barely equate to the width of the historical, sage-backed volume, but it was enlightening, nonetheless. A cup of steaming tea sat at the opposite side to the books, on a ceramic saucer. Across from her, sat the librarian, pouring over a quiet-looking book. She shifted in her seat for a moment and waited to see the reaction from the old man across from her. When none came, she sat her head on her hands and sighed exaggeratedly. No response. The young reaper wriggled in her chair for a while before she couldn’t take the silence anymore without books to pour over.

“I still can’t believe that this place used to exist,” Ruby blurted. The librarian peeked up from the book he was reading, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“You’re unsure of the truth,” the librarian spoke softly as he closed his book, sliding it to his left. Ruby hesitantly nodded.

“The way they describe the weapons and these drawings, they just seem… unreal. Like something out of a fantasy book. They said the one captain, Hastar H’Kett, he had a weapon that was like… some kind of lance of orange light and all the pictures show him doing all this crazy stuff—it just… it feels more like a legend than ancient history, y’know?” Ruby ranted rapidly, red-faced and rosy as the old librarian stared at her with an amused expression gracing his features. He folded his hands together and sat them in front of him as he began.

“Well, I can assure you. This,” he pointed to the book, tapping its cover with his index finger, “it is our history. Remnant’s history. Some of those images were… exaggerated, but I can tell you that they very much had weapons like how those flowery words describe.” He grinned as Ruby became bemused at first, her forehead scrunching as her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes darted back and forth in thought.

“It… they’re not lances. They’re guns. But… how could that be possible!?! No Dust weapons could even accomplish stuff like this even now!” Ruby asked incredulously. In return, the humble librarian laughed softly, tapping a hand gently to the table, understating what would be a symbol of exaggerated laughter. Perhaps it was a sign of his age catching up with him, making him more soft-spoken. Perhaps it was simply an action to be amusing to the young student, a goal he readily achieved as Ruby tittered at his antics, something that brought a smile to his aged facial features.

“Well, I can at least tell you a story. Something passed down in my family… it all began in those olden days when most men fought with spears, swords and axes. Not the Sortiarites, they used majestic automata and weapons the like of which would never be known again…”

O.o.O.o.O

SB Forums thread:

[britomart-heart]

Goodness is Going With You, Ch.1

Hi all! First time posting fanfiction on this account, and first time writing in about two years. My target audience for this is approximately one person - ie myself who still likes zombie apocalypse aus, but let me know your thoughts and if you’d like more! Fandom: The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ****** You had been walking for days. Your small, ancient, ship had broken down on this back water planet, and even you had to admit there was no fixing it this time. But with the galaxy the way it was now, staying in one place was never an option for long.

It had also been days since you’d seen one of them. The creatures that had brought your world crashing to its knees more than twenty years ago. Just with the mere thought of them, your fingers brushed over your blaster strapped to your hip. The road had been too quiet for your liking, and it usually meant that the creatures had all moved to the same spot for whatever reason. That would make it easier for you to avoid them. It would also make it harder for you to outrun them if you did stumble across them.

You reloaded your blaster.

The virus was almost always deadly, and had taken sixty percent of the population of each system it passed through to prove it, but when a host was unfortunate enough to survive the initial sickness, it left them mindless, violent, and hungry for whatever flesh it came across. The accepted story was that the virus was biochemical warfare invented by the scientists of the Empire, meant to wipe out the last supporters of the Old Republic, but was more successful that they ever imagined. Now all that was left was barren planets controlled by warlords, travel systems overrun by pirates, and abandoned cities crawling with the creatures who prowled the empty streets hungrily.

Come to mention it, you were quite hungry too.

A map you found in a crumbling building had indicated that there was some sort of village north of where your ship had crashed, and you had been trekking across the desert sands in hope of some sort of meal, and maybe even an old piece of junk you could wrangle into flying condition. There was talk of a vaccine in the inner rim. A safe zone. It was an idea you could barely comprehend, but the whisper was enough to make you desperate to try and reach it.

As you began to daydream of what a safe zone might entail, you heard a cry in the distance, followed quickly by the warbled shrieks of the infected. Your stomach flipped, head snapping to attention. Normally such a cry would have you running in the opposite direction, but despite every instinct you had, your feet began moving towards the fray. That was the cry of an infant, of a child. Maker help you, but who would be heartless enough to turn away from that?

The noise seemed to come from impossibly far away, but you managed to find an abandoned moisture farm, and a hoard of infected swarming around the strangest looking kid you’d ever seen. Green ears nearly as wide as it was tall, it was crying out in distress as the creatures surrounded it. You’d never seen them attack like this before.

They surrounded the kid in a circle, and one by one they would try to attack with the usual sweep of their rotting arms. As one would rush in, the kid would raise a shaking three fingered hand, closing its eyes in concentration, and the creature would be flung back as if it was a rag doll. You stared in confusion, but quickly realised the child was slowing down, its eyes drooping lower and lower with each attack. You had your blaster raised without thinking and took down three of the creatures before they even noticed you there.

You slid through the gap you created and picked up the child just as it sleepily raised its arms up to you. Tucking him into the crook of your arm, you began firing shots as well as you could, swinging around, and ignoring the inevitable realisation that there was just too many of them. If you could just get out of their view there was a chance you could run, and you kept jogging backwards, until your back hit a wall.

They’d trapped you in a corner.

“Come on kid, that neat magic trick you pulled earlier would be helpful” you half yelled to the child who was clinging to your side. To his credit, the kid did try to lift his arm again, but the effort seemed to take the last bit of energy he had, and he slumped against you. Your grip was slippery with sweat, and with each beat of your heart, and fire of your blaster you knew it was hopeless. As the hoard closed in, you wiped the sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes, raising your blaster up to take out as many of them with you as you could.

You noticed the whistling in the air, before you noticed the tiny speeding bullets blasting into each of the snarling creatures, taking them out one by one. When the wall of them fell, a shining body that seemed solid silver landed in front of you, taking out the remaining monsters as if they were no more than training droids at a shooting range.

You stared in disbelief, clutching the child closer to your side, gaping at the number of infected this stranger had taken out in mere seconds, so stunned that you barely noticed that your saviour had now turned his blaster on you.

“Hand him over.” A deep male voice came through the modulator of the helmet, and he stretched his gloved hand out to you, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in your arms. You held him tighter on instinct.

“Who are you?”

“Listen girl, the only reason you’re still standing is because I saw you protecting him. Hand him to me, and we’ll call it even.”

You’d always been good at reading people, but this was like reading a brick wall. The dark visor hid even the slightest shadow of his eyes, and he stood still as stone, no body language to glean any sort of impression from. He held the blaster, still aimed at you, as if it were simply an extension of his arm.

But there was the slightest edge of desperation to his voice, just the tiniest hint of worry when he reached for the kid, that despite yourself you believed him. You wanted to believe him.

Slowly, you stepped over the corpse of one of the infected littering the ground and handed the kid over to the armoured man.

No, not just a man you realised, slightly later than you probably should have. He was a Mandalorian. You nearly dropped your own blaster, as you realised that an actual Mandalorian had pointed his weapon at you, and you actually had the gall to question him and survived.

He tucked the strange brown robe the baby was wearing tighter around him, with a tenderness that seemed somehow bizarre and charming at the same time.

“Why was he alone?” You asked, and the Mandalorian looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there.

“I was fighting a quarry into my ship, and the kid wandered off. He has a habit of doing that… usually I catch him before he gets into real trouble. After that, hopefully he won’t do it again.” He looks back at you, and somehow you knew he was looking over you from top to bottom. You shiver, and you know it’s not from the evening’s chill.

“I don’t have any credits.” He said, and you looked back in confusion.

“Credits?”

“To thank you. For saving the kid. Not many would have done that.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, anyone would have-“ You begin, but he shakes his head

“No. They wouldn’t have.” He tilts his head almost questioningly at you, and for some unknown reason you blush. Why are you blushing. You saved this guy’s kid, he’s thanking you, this is normal. All of this is normal.

“Well. I’d best be on my way then. Keep that kid out of trouble, he seems… special.” You answer, as diplomatically as you can.

“Yeah, he is.” The Mandalorian answers quietly, and you smile and start walking away. You’re nearly out of earshot, when the same modulated voice calls out again.

“Hey. Can I give you a lift somewhere. I’m not a taxi service but… I’m headed towards Nevarro and I can drop you there, or somewhere on the way.”

“Yes”, You say without thinking and without questioning the relief that threatens to spill over, “Yes, Nevarro would be great, thank you.”

He barely says a word after that, leading you nearby to his ship, and sets up a make shift bed for you on the ground of his rather shaken looking pre-empire Razor Crest. The kid stirs sometime after you enter hyperspace and gives you a toothy grin when he sees you sitting beside his floating crib. He reaches over to you with a tiny, green, wrinkled hand, and wraps it around your pointer finger.

“Hi kid, it’s me again”, you say and give him your name. He stares up at you with his enormous black eyes, and his calm gaze settles you enough that you allow the exhaustion of the past days to finally wash over you.

****

Over the next few days he tells you barely enough to satisfy your curiosity, but enough that your sufficiently intimidated by him. You can call him Mando, he doesn’t know the kid’s name, there’s rations in the hold that you can help yourself to whenever you want. You fill in the gaps you can with your limited knowledge of Mandalorians- that their religion is their armour and weapons, that their planet was lost before the virus destroyed everyone else’s, that the helmet never comes off.

It’s enough that your intrigued by him almost as much as you’re scared of him. His voice alone, warm and low, draws you in, and the affection he clearly has for the strange child that travels with him, is a walking contradiction to the Mandalorian code you heard about in stories and legends as a youngling. It makes you wonder if he travels with the kid out of obligation, or if he once was as lonely as you are, and couldn’t bare it anymore.

You can understand that.

You come out of hyperspace on the third day, and you hear him coming down the ladder into the hold before you feel the jolt of the ship entering Nevarro’s atmosphere. You have the kid on your lap, and were in the process of teaching him one of the few games you remember from your own childhood. He didn’t seem to get the rules, but giggled every time you clapped his hands together, and would try to do the same with yours.

“The kid likes you”. Mando says from behind you, and you smile over your shoulder.

“Well I’m easy to like. So is this little one.” You answer, and the kid gurgles in what sounds like agreement, and throws himself forward into you, stretching his tiny arms as far as he can reach, and laughs into your belly.

Mando walks forward, and gently tugs on one of the kid’s massive ears. You’re not sure if you imagine his fingers brushing over your shoulder when he moves his hand back.

“You’re handy with a blaster.” He says, in a way that feels more like a statement than a question. You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you nod slowly.

“When I need to be.”

“You can handle moving around from place to place? You don’t have anyone waiting for you somewhere?” He asks, and it’s definitely a question this time. You nod more confidently, and turn around full to look up at him. He’s leaning against a wall, his arm resting confidently on his hip, and he’s literally in full armour, why is that a good look on him. You’re beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long.

“It’s just been me for a long time.”

He nods in a way that makes you think it was the right answer.

“I’m trying to get into the inner rim. There’s some rumours that it’s safer there, and I need to get the kid… he needs to be safe.” He says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Still can’t trust you with the full truth, but is offering up more than you ever expected. You try not to look too eager.

“I need someone to watch the kid while I collect my bounties on the way. You saw what happens when he’s left alone for too long. And I think you need to get somewhere safe too.”

You barely react, terrified that if you say something now, he’ll retract whatever offer he is about to make, the one you were always on the verge of suggesting yourself but kept losing the nerve to ask.

“I still need to stop in Nevarro. But you can join me when I leave again… if you want. I can pay handsomely, and it’ll be safer than travelling on your own.” He says, and you know he’s waiting for an answer now. You stand slowly, trying to look as if you’re contemplating a response, even though you know your answer immediately. You place the kid in his floating crib and wipe your hands on the front of your trousers.

“It’s a deal.” You answer and stretch one of your hands out in front of you.

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, only the unreadable man in front of you, staring at your outstretched hand, and oh maker have you misread this completely. You’re about to drop your hand, when he reaches out and shakes it with his own and seems to hold it a beat to long before letting go.

“Right, well then strap the kid in, we’ll be pulling into Nevarro shortly.” He answers as gruffly as if the conversation never happened and turns to climb back up into the cockpit. As if you imagined the whole thing.

Only, even though you have absolutely no proof, if someone asked you to bet on what expression he was making under that helmet, you’d have put money on him smiling.

[rigginsstreet]

JULIA’S FICS MASTERLIST

so it’s my wifes ( @fredheads ) birthday and im a flop who doesnt have her birthday fic ready (it’ll be done... before the end of the month. absolutely should not take that long but thats the only definite timeline i have lmao) SO to celebrate, i think you all should read her fics and leave nice comments because it’s what she deserves :)

MULTI CHAPTER (unfinished)

She's The One (fem!fredsythe)

Just Like Heaven (fredsythe, alice - fred escapes the Sisters au)

talk about a dream, try to make it real (fredsythe, gladys - college au)

quiet mercy (fredsythe - the OG fred & the sisters of quiet mercy fic)

Papa (fred and artie exploration)

wanna be your backdoor man (fredsythe - h*rny neighbor antics)

With a Girl Like You (fred and gladys friendship)

all our costliest treasures (baby fredsythe at christmas julia i would like to see more... its your birthday i should not be requesting things my apologies)

but your kids are gonna love it (archie and jughead - back to the future au i never saw that movie so i cant say for sure but they do time travel so that checks out to me)

Riverdale High's Last Annual Father-Daughter Winter Fling (fred takes veronica to the father/daughter dance because hiram is in jail =/ )

i say the phrases that keep it all going (different takes of fred fp archie and jughead dying in each others arms julia where is the fredsythe one... just asking)

MULTI CHAPTER (finished [according to ao3])

wouldn't it be good (ensemble - everyones paired up and has to raise an egg)

love is like a heat wave (fredsythe summertime antics)

burnt toffee (halice - working at an icecream shop, falling in love, v cute)

if only in my dreams (penelope lies about having a boyfriend)

let nothing you dismay (alice cooper fixing christmas)

there's a blue light in my best friend's room (hal and fred bonding hour)

The Trials of Cheerleading (or, "Throwing In The Megaphone") (the parentdale bible just read it and forget anything else anyone [ras] has ever told you)

fred andrews adopts a gang (bet you cant tell what this is about)

from the rich to the poor they are mostly unkind (i think this is a sweet pea centric fic?? julia really has something for everyone but dont expect her to do this again)

fp's adventures in domesticity (fp taking care of the andrews household while fred recovers from getting blasted in the chest)

Oblivion (all the times fred has experienced god)

west of memphis (jarchie post 107 thats all i can tell you idk)

ONE SHOT

Wherever you go i'll be with you (fp and archie - a timeline after freds death)

that's as close as i'll get to loving you (fremary - fred asks mary out)

i'm only good at being bad, bad (gladys hating her deadbeat husband <3)

and all the miles in between (fp and tom on the bus to basic training)

excerpts from the same party (freds interactions...at a party... the title is pretty self explanatory but who doesnt love a party fic ammirite ladiez)

don't you know these days you pay for everything (fred, fp, mary - i remember this being fp playing wingman to get fred and mary together cuz he likes mary better than hermione.... read more to find out if im right)

tying faith between our teeth (fredsythe - au where fp goes to college and doesnt ruin his life)

and they were roommates (fredsythe - another college au)

The Construction Tree (jarchie - idk what this is about i dont read kid fics im sorry... but julias a bomb ass writer so im sure the jarchies will love it anyway)

flowers grow through cement (fred gaining weight and feeling insecure)

night creatures call and the dead start to walk in their masquerade (HALLOWEEN FREDSYTHE BABYYYY!)

get me a prescription for that one perfect touch (fredsythe sick fic)

i don't know where else i can go (more hal and fred bonding hour)

everybody's got a hungry heart (fredsythe sexy time with food... that sounds weird.... listen either youre into it or youre not)

not so typical love song (fp and mary bonding hour)

all the redemption i can offer (fremary after the shooting... im pretty sure... listen i have a bad brain i cant remember things just read it)

Simply Irresistible (fred is a ho)

took the words (right out of my mouth) (four times fred and fp say ‘i love you’)

if you wanna get it done you gotta do it yourself (fp and mary loving fred... who is a ho)

people livin' in competition (more fp/fred/mary nonsense with fp gay pining what a good triangle i would have liked to seen it...)

buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight (mary works at youth crisis hotline and fred calls in)

that's what they say when we're together (halram post high school au)

a good old fashioned romance (hiram flaunting his wealth instead of displaying emotions)

you don't know what (you) got (fred has great friends even though hes a bit of a putz)

watch your weight (more fredsythe food shenanigans)

Valuable Lessons Learned On The Tilt-A-Whirl, or "Babe, You Ought To Quit This Scene Too" (alice hermione fred and fp go to the fair)

what once was (jughead and the andrews after freds shooting)

you must remember this (i have no recollection of what this is about but it sounds jughead centric)

takes guts to be gentle and kind (idk what this is either lmfao but i know julia saved moose and midge in it... idk midge but good for her [granted this also takes place after 202 so keep that in mind])

FP Jones and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad House Party (or, "Nothing Good Ever Happens At One Of These") (oh i remember this one.... mmmm. title tells you all really)

and so please help them with your youth ( ‘fred teaches archie to walk. archie returns the favor’)

andrews & son (more fred and archie post 201)

Blueberry Pie (fredsythe - my review of this fic is just me clutching my chest saying ‘oh god, oh fuck’)

never drill for oil on a city street (part 1 of mary working at a youth crisis hotline and fred calling in and i should put this above the other fic but like... you can figure out one and two on your own i believe in you)

The Perils of Faking Illness (or, “two times Fred Andrews faked sick to get out of class and one time he actually needed a hospital”) (read the title)

healing, in three parts (fred fp archie and jughead attempt a roadtrip)

all along the watchtower (#fredandrewsisriverdale)

guess that we were too much of the same kind (fred getting visitors in the hospital)

sometimes wonder what's beneath the mess you've become (fred and alice bonding hour)

nice day for a white wedding (fredsythe hospital times babyyyy!)

The Unexpected Perks of Feminist Activism (or, "Fingertip Rules") (fred gets fucked in a skirt by fp thats all you need to know)

Any Way You Want It (reggie x moose idk what it is but if you like them here you go)

fun, fun, fun (till her daddy takes the t-bird away) (beach antics! freds a menace but fp loves him anyway...)

hands over the ears of my heart (fred and hermione share a bed but platonically)

the apocalypse comes sooner than you think (fredsythemione antics)

small as a world and large as alone (a series of drabbles about archie jughead and fred post 104)

do a good turn daily (archie x reggie post 103)

seven minutes in heaven (archie and reggie picked for 7 minutes in heaven)

tell me every terrible thing you ever did (archie drops jughead off after the pep rally)

[in-tua-deep]

OKAY here’s the weird dream inspired au where five was never supposed to exist and was more of,, a late addition by the Universe to the fun mystery birth line-up

Once upon a time forty-three women gave birth around the world. A fact made only odd because none of these women were pregnant when the day began. Forty-three women gave birth to forty-three children. An eccentric billionaire traveled in an attempt to obtain as many of these odd children as he could.

He got six.

But that’s not quite how the story goes.

Once upon a time, the universe was born. She is beyond human conception, and she left nebulae in her wake and lit up all the stars. Beautiful and wonderful and lonely, and so she had a daughter. A daughter who would grow fond of a particular planet in her mother’s playground.

A daughter who, one day, would meet a man named Klaus Hargreeves and tell him that she didn’t like him.

A daughter who, for the most part, was inordinately fond of the human race. A daughter who was displeased when a group of humans who figured out time travel decreed that the apocalypse must occur and safeguarded it. 

She did her best to fix it. But every time she tried, the group stepped up. No matter what factors she managed to tweak, as she could only interfere indirectly, no matter what changed, the apocalypse was always guaranteed by outside interference.

For all the millennia the Universe’s daughter had been alive, she was still a child. So she did what all children do when they encounter a problem too big to take on alone. She went to her mother.

Neither could interfere directly, and indirect measures were doing nothing. The universe was too vast to take a mortal avatar, and her daughter had barred herself from direct interference long ago to establish free will. There was a group whose free will just continued to get in the way. And so the universe had an idea, and she asked her daughter a simple question: if she wanted a little sibling.

For you see, neither the Universe nor her daughter could interfere directly, but the Universe could create someone who could.

So it goes more like this - once upon a time forty-three women gave birth around the world. A fact made only odd because none of these women were pregnant when the day began. Forty-three women gave birth to forty-four children. 

It was easy, to slip her child in next to another who was also not quite supposed to exist. To choose a mother of a child who was already known to the Universe’s daughter to be adopted by the man who would unknowingly cause the apocalypse.

An eccentric billionaire traveled in an attempt to obtain as many of these odd children as he could.

He got seven.

Little Number Five, as he was dubbed upon arrival at the lavish mansion which was to become his home for the next thirteen years, opened his eyes and saw fractals of light. He brought his little hands up to caress the paths and choices that existed just beyond the fabric of the universe, a language only spoken by now three individuals.

And he grew up with a gentle crooning voice in his ear - the voice of his mother. The voice that taught him how to part the veil and fall into the timeless space between worlds and out the other side. One that was constantly with him.

He grew up knowing he had a mission.

“You are here to prevent the apocalypse!” Reginald Hargreeves told his children severely as they rolled their eyes and scoffed. It was a sentiment he echoed often enough that it had lost all meaning to them. 

Do you love you siblings? The Universe asked her child with unparalleled gentleness.

Yes, Five projected back, because he did. He was aware that he wasn’t quite the same as the others, but he loved them regardless with a kind of fierceness that should be scary but mostly just made him feel warm.

Then prove it. The Universe challenged her child, and so he did. He pulled impossible stunts and stole food and spoke back to his father. He directed all of the attention on himself to spare those he could. 

“Why can’t I kill him?” Five asked the Universe one night when he was eight-years-old and sitting on his bed, inspecting the bruises that were still forming on his skin. “I need to protect them - killing him would solve things, right?”

It wouldn’t stop what is to come, the Universe crooned to her child in sorrow, There is much to be done. What is to come is safeguarded - those that guard it must die, first.

“But, you haven’t told me who causes the apocalypse anyway.” Five complained, a frown upon his face.

No matter what changes, the apocalypse comes. They make sure of it. One person does not cause the apocalypse - it is the symptom of a rot. It must be burned out entirely for the planet to survive.

“For my siblings to survive.” Five said, ever so softly. 

More years passed, until Five turned thirteen years old and the Universe whispered in his ear again and taught him how to part the veil and fall into the timeless place between world and travel in it.

Time travel.

I’m going to ask you to go through a trial. The Universe told her son, In order to save the world, you will have to sacrifice so much. You are so young, I wish I did not have to ask this of you - but it is important.

“It’s okay.” Five soothed his mother, ignorant of what was to come and oh so arrogant in his youth. “I can handle anything you throw at me. I’ll save them - I’ll save them all.”

He does not have quite the same attitude when he jabs at his father with words and runs out the door, fully intending to go back in a few hours before the Universe prods at him and tells him now. 

“But I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Five protested, thinking of Vanya’s face as he left the table. But there was something exhilarating about falling through and riding the wave of time twisting like a snake under the fabric of reality and emerging in the future and he figured he could always return after whatever the Universe needed him to see in the future anyway.

Again, the Universe whispered.

He fell again.

Again, the Universe whispered.

Again, he rode the wave of time, except this time when he emerged it was different. The sky was filled with ash. All around him was rubble. There was a moment where his emotions were almost in freefall, before the ground caught up to him. Without his permission, his feet were already taking him back - back to the only home he’d ever known. Names tearing from his lips as he called for his siblings.

He found them. He recognized them by the tattoos on their wrists, putting names to faces, seeing the people he knew in the bodies that were left behind. 

He turned, frantic, hands rising to part the fabric of the universe again - 

STOP, the Universe commanded her son. If you go back, you cannot save them. And you will save them. This will not be the hand fate deals them. But I need you here, it is important.

“For how long?” Five rasped.

Do not worry. The Universe soothed, Time is a drop in the bucket for us. I will change you, as is needed to be done to make sure that the bait is taken and that you will be in position. I will restore you, have no fear. You will survive this, for you are my son. I will make sure of this.

And he did survive. He survived for years, growing up at the end of the world. He grew taller. His skin changed under the sun. He ate what he could find. He grew a beard. His hair turned grey. And that’s when they finally came for him.

A woman came, with white blond hair perfectly in place and makeup pristine against the chaos of the apocalypse. She smiled at him and offered him a job - and he took it.

“Can I go back now?” Five whispered, staring down the barrel of a gun waiting for his target - someone who he didn’t want to kill at all.

Not yet. The Universe sounded apologetic, Soon.

It was a question he asked with some frequency. Until one day he was staring down a gun at a road and a president and a car, and the Universe said - Now.

He dropped everything he was doing, and with a grin on his face pressed again the fabric of the universe and pushed. Pushed and pushed, and felt himself falling falling falling and changing changing changing and suddenly he was on the ground. He looked up at his family for the first time in so long and felt his heart swell.

And then he staggered to his feet and realized exactly what the Universe had meant when she said that he would have to sacrifice. Because the siblings that were in front of him were not the ones he left. Not even close.

They were the faces that haunted him, the ones he had found in the rubble. His siblings were thirteen and painfully young and old all at the same time, aged by the horrors that they faced together. These siblings were all wrong and right all at the same time. They weren’t right. He didn’t know them. 

And he tried to stop the apocalypse, he ran around trying to keep his siblings close and push them as far away as possible at the same time. He wanted them next to him right up until they reminded him of how much he missed.

(Klaus spoke about a man and osso bucco, and Five couldn’t bear to stick around. Couldn’t bear to look at a brother he didn’t even know anymore.)

“I need help.” Five howled to the Universe, “Give me a clue, a hint! Anything!”

Make a deal. The Universe told her son, Face the Handler. Accept the job. You need to get into position.

And so he did. He took Luther with him and set up a deal and watched as Klaus and Diego rode in on an ice cream truck blasting music and couldn’t help but feel insanely fond of his idiot siblings. When the Handler showed up and offered him a deal, he didn’t hesitate in taking it.

He had to save them, he had to save them all.

This child went to the Commission with a calm certainty, because his mission was not just to figure out who caused the apocalypse. Because he could part the veil of time itself - his mission was to make sure that those with the same power who wanted to ensure the world died took its place. 

This is a Five who didn’t go snooping into the messaging room with its many tubes, instead he kindly appropriated weapons and set them in strategic places around the Headquarters that he finally, finally had access to.

(The Commission were arrogant - they existed in a place outside the timestream where only those with briefcases and invites could go. Temporal assassins weren’t high enough on the food chain. They had only the one base, because if only they could get there then however could they ever be destroyed?

The Handler should have been more careful when deciding to play a game of cat and mouse with a creature that was neither.)

So he smiles at the Handler who holds a gun trained on him, he holds the grenade that will set off a chain reaction and winks. He doesn’t need the suitcase to get back to his own time, not when he is a child of the Universe. He sets it off and pushed through and feels the Universe ripple with approval around him as the Commission is eradicated off the face of the planet.

Oh, there’s still more to do technically. There are suitcases in the hands of temporal assassins who will never again receive an order. There are ground agents left to take care of. But Five cut off the head of the snake, and the body would be soon to follow.

Five jumps back. 

Klaus mentions seeing their father and mentions dying and Five leans forward eagerly to ask if he met God. Klaus blinks in surprise but nods, mentioning that the little girl hated him.

Five frowns at the thought, but the Universe sends amusement his way. It is not Klaus’s fault he got to be your brother. The Universe tells him fondly, It is simply a matter that he got to be so before she did. She has never been very good at coming in second, your sister.

The mansion is destroyed while Five is gone, and he finds a newspaper and freezes.

“I thought the apocalypse was off?” Five asks loudly, making his siblings look at him oddly. But Five has been in the habit of talking to ‘himself’ for years now.

You killed the guards. You can stop the apocalypse where before it was an impossible task. But you must stop this one first. The Universe tells him gently.

So they go to a bowling alley, and Five is not distracted by a cryptic message inside of a fortune cookie. They go to Vanya’s concert and aren’t interrupted by goons with guns. Allison stands proudly at the front with a smile, and Five is right there alongside her. Together they are a force to be reckoned with, and they bully Luther into standing down. At least for now.

It’s after the concert, when Vanya snaps out of it and they crowd around one another and they think about the ruins of the academy as Vanya cries fury and pain over years of terror and neglect.

They’ve lost so much in this week. Diego lost Eudora Patch. Allison lost her voice. Vanya became a murderer. Klaus lost the love of his life.

So Five holds his hands out to them, “I can take us back.” He tells them all, “I can take us back to the beginning of the week. We can undo the deaths. We can be prepared and handle it better. We can fix it.”

Because the Commission were fools. They existed outside of the timestream, which meant that no matter where Five jumped they simply no longer existed. Time was a funny little thing, and it was already healing from the scars that had been left.

So they take him up on it. They hold hands and Five hauls them through the timestream and they show up the day of their father’s funeral. Five sitting on the ground where he fell out of a portal and the rest spilled out into the courtyard to see the phenomenon.

And they heal from there, but that’s not all Five has to do.

Five watches his siblings find purpose and happiness and figures he has one favor he can call on - even if it’s from family he’s never met.

He slips between the fabric of the world, and ends up in front of a little girl on a bike.

“Brother.” She greets him, tilting her head up at him.

“Sister.” He responds easily, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“I suppose you want something.” She observes with no real judgement, “I’ve heard little brothers were supposed to be demanding little brats.”

“And I heard big sisters were supposed to be protective.” Five teases gently back, shrugging to indicate all the pain and hardship he had gone through at her request for her little pet world to remain intact. Not that Five can fault her for it, he loves the world just as much as she does. Or maybe not, he just loves a select and small group of people who live upon it.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I guess I owe you one. Name your price.”

“There’s a man that you have.” Five says, voice measured and careful like he’s rehearsed this in his head a dozen times. “His name is Dave Katz and he died during the Vietnam war. I was wondering if we could have him back.”

“I’d need your help.” The little girl who isn’t really a little girl at all tells him very seriously. “I can put him back in a body and heal it, I have a few miracles in me. But I need a body to do so. Retrieve it from the way, after your brother has left, and I will do this for you.”

“And - Ben?” Five hesitates. He should have asked for it first, but he’d wanted to make sure it was possible. Which, given the nature of Ben’s death and God’s explanation for Dave’s return very well might not be. 

She sighs deeply. “It could take some time. His body was somewhat scattered among dimensions. In return for the legwork, however, I expect frequent visits.”

After all, Five did deserve some reward for doing exactly what she had wished for him to do.

“Family dinners with God,” Five grins back, already calculating exactly where and when he has to be to succeed at his given tasks, “I think I can just about manage that.”

It’s not exactly all sunshine and roses after that. Apparently producing your brother’s dead time-traveled lover alongside your usually very dead brother and explaining clearly that you ‘made a deal with God’ didn’t exactly cut it as far as excuses went. They all needed therapy. Vanya still had trouble self-regulating her emotions.

And then of course, a few years in, Five had to figure out how to explain the fact that he wasn’t aging.

(He was lucky he managed to convince his mother to let him keep his thirteen-year-old form for now - which considering God looked younger when she’d been alive for billions of years was very generous thank you. But he couldn’t artificially age on his own, and the Universe refused to put him through it a second time so - yeah he was a little bit stuck.)

Five was born with a mission, and it’s one he still had. He had Monday dinners with God, who bestowed upon him the location and time period where he would find yet another surviving briefcase from an agent to track down and destroy. 

But his biggest mission is to make sure his family is happy and healthy and cared for until the end of their days. It’s a mission he takes very seriously.

(And hey, it’s not like he won’t be able to see them again on the other side. Sometimes it pays to have God as a big sister, after all.)

Once upon a time forty-four children were born on a seemingly normal October day. One of them wasn’t supposed to be there.

But aren’t we all glad he was.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of January 8th, 2020

Best of this Week: Excalibur #5 - Tini Howard, Marcus To, Erick Arciniega and Cory Petit

There are monsters in the streets, Druids under the Earth and only Excalibur can stop them.

After the last issue, the Excalibur team are split up and handling separate issues either, under Britain, in Britain or at the groups Lighthouse base of operations. Everything is hectic after Shogo, Jubilee’s adopted son, accidentally weakened the barrier between Otherworld and England. Unfortunately, this allowed creatures from the ralm of magic to flood into the Earth, causing nothing but destruction in their wake. This issue was a ton of fun with all of the locales, action and dramatic character moments within. 

Rictor, who hadn’t had much control over his powers as of late, ventures with Gambit to find a power source for Apocalypse that could be used to help awaken a comatose Rogue and open the Krakoa gate to Otherworld. The pair discover the power source, but then have to try to escape from a group of Druids underground. Unfortunately while the druids worship Rictor for his powers over the Earth, they cast Gambit into a chasm and the Earthy mutant has to save him.

Marcus To does an amazing job of capturing the absolute terror on Gambit’s face as he falls into the hole and couples that with comedy as Gambit hits many walls on his way down with Rictor making jokes. Soon enough, Rictor has to make use of the power source crystal to channel his powers, as they’re still on the fritz, to save his Thief friend. Arciniega struts his coloring skills as most of this section of the book has a green hue to it from Rictor’s cloak to the bubble of energy he creates to make structures. 

At the same time, Captain Britain, Betsy Braddock, is in the streets of London and defends her people from multi-headed, fire breathing dragons with MI-13 Agent Pete Wisdom. What I found to be best about this bit of the book is how believable Betsy could be as a solo hero with a normal guy foil in Wisdom. They bounce off of each other well and Marcus To draws Captain Britain to look like an absolute hero, blocking the dragon fire with only her shield and whatever psionic ability Wisdom himself has. Wisdom’s flirtations and Betsy’s sense of duty adds depth to both and an intriguing dynamic for both.

In the middle of everything, however, we also get a glimpse into the dreaming mind of Rogue as she travels her dreamscape, on the cusp of waking from her magic coma. It’s a strange scene as it’s not quite what I expected from Rogue’s mind, but the imagery given implies that Apocalypse absolutely had some part in her incapacitation as part of some larger plan - this is especially true as a giant statue of him appears amongst the Easter Island-esque statues of Sentinels and blasts her with blue light.

Apocalypse had been working on getting all of Excalibur back to the Lighthouse where he and Jubilee had been defending as part of his plan, but those plans make an unexpected change as Gambit reveals that he knows that Apocalypse was up to no good of some sort. The two begin to argue as the monsters attack and this leads to a fight between the two as Rogue slowly awakens with the help of an adorable orange pup and an emerging sword and throne.

The bad blood between Gambit and Apocalypse goes back for years - back to Gambit’s days as one of Mister Sinister’s Marauders and his time as Apocalypse’s Horseman of Death. With Rogue being his wife and seeing her being used by Apocalypse as some sort of power conduit, it makes sense that Gambit would be understandably pissed off. To and Arciniega do a gret job of making the short fight seem spic through dynamic posing and epic lighting. Both of them cock their fists back, Gambit’s glowing with his kinetic energy and Apocalypse being the regal blue giant that he is, however Apocalypse ends the fight in an instant by planting Gambit into the ground with one punch to the head.

With his plans in shambles and Captain Britain being the only one to defend his actions, he chastises Rictor before being attacked by a reawakened Rogue who seems to have been roused by Apocalypse’s attack on Gambit. In a fury, she begins to drain Apocalypse of his power and he encourages her to do so. To and Arciniega work in tandem to show the intensity of the situation. 

Rogue gives a pained expression as she takes on the energy from Apocalypse and the Mutant God kneels before her with a smile on his face, submitting to her as his plan comes to fruition anyway. All of this causes a surge of purple energy to wash over the panels. The colors are intense, especially in one of the best panels focused on half of Apocalypse’s smiling face as the Krakoa gate to Otherworld is transformed in a bright flash of purple and a faraway shot showing just how powerful Rogue’s absorption is. 

She ends up killing Apocalypse in the ensuing moments and learns of his plans and we get one final page stinger that I don’t think anyone would have expected. I’ll give a hint: Anna Sabah Nur.

I have always been a fan of sword and sorcery stuff, so this series is a bit of fun love letter to that wihout being quite as oer the top or violent as Conan, but still with some of my favorite mutant characters. Marcus To and Erick Arciniega make for a dynamic duo of artist and colorist as they bring these pages to life with fantastical scenes of heroism and drama. Tini Howard also has a great feel for every character involved and makes this such an awesome series to get into because of it, even making me enjoy Betsy Braddock better as Captain Britain than as Psylocke.

This book is absolutely worth the time and money, high recommend!

[shkspr]

The Gospel according to David and Michael

transcribed from [x]

Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s darkly comic novel about the battle between good and evil, comes to Amazon Prime this spring. To mark the occasion, the British stars of this hugely anticipated show  — Michael Sheen and David Tennant  — take New York in style. HAYLEY CAMPBELL meets them.

It’s Sunday morning in New York City and it’s snowing outside the warm, jazz-filled Beekman hotel, where a 50th-birthday balloon has been trapped for months at the apex of the glass atrium at the top of one of the city’s first skyscrapers. One thousand New Year’s Eve balloons have risen and fallen in the time this one silver balloon has taken to not die. If the apocalypse were to arrive tomorrow, this balloon would survive along with the cockroaches, the deep-sea fish, and the angel and the demon who tried to avert the disaster. If the prophecies of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s cult novel Good Omens prove to be correct, this balloon would bob high above their heads as it is doing now — above Michael Sheen and David Tennant, light and dark, good and evil, an angel and a demon sitting either side of me in lower Manhattan, eating eggs.

I last saw these two together in 2017, in the middle of London’s Battersea Park, shooting some early scenes of their hugely anticipated television show. Good Omens is about the birth of Satan, the coming of the End Times, and an angel (Aziraphale — who has been living on Earth since the dawn of creation and is currently working in a bookshop avoiding selling books because he really just likes to collect them) and a demon (Crowley — who used to be known as Crawly, the snake who tempted Eve with the apple). The pair have spent so much time on earth that they’ve come to quite like it, and don’t much fancy the idea of it all ending. The novel was published in 1990 and has gone on to become so loved that it is rare to see a pristine copy in the world: copies of Good Omens almost always come pre-dunked in tea. Shortly before his death from Alzheimer’s in early 2015, Pratchett wrote an email to his collaborator Gaiman asking him to take it to the screen, to do it properly. “I’m making it for Terry,” says Gaiman. “I wanted to make the thing that Terry would have liked.”

Sheen and Tennant star as the angelic and demonic representatives of their respective head offices, Heaven and Hell, along with a knee-weakening list of stars including Jon Hamm as the archangel Gabriel, Spinal Tap’s Michael McKean as the last of a once proud witchfinder army, and Frances McDormand as the voice of God. There’s Miranda Richardson, Jack Whitehall, three quarters of the League of Gentlemen, and Nick Offerman as the father of the Antichrist (sort of). The cast list reads like someone collecting acting talent to put on an ark ready for a biblical flood.

For months, we have tried to get them together again to talk about the end of the world. But life and work had them circling the globe separately, unmatchable as opposing magnets. Sheen is currently in New York filming The Good Fight, in which he plays a Machiavellian lawyer, and Tennant has flown in on the red-eye from Phoenix, Arizona, where he was appearing at the Ace Comic Con, mobbed by Doctor Who fans. Both of them have, since they last saw each other, grown beards. Tennant is ecstatic about the beards, and both are thrilled to see each other, and New York, again.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in New York over the years now,” says Sheen. “But still there’s times where you look at something and you think it just looks so incredibly beautiful, or strange, or filmic. It never loses that sense of unreality. I love being able to take it in by walking through the streets. Los Angeles feels like everything happens indoors, whereas here in New York, everything happens outdoors.”

“I do like New York,” adds Tennant. “I love a big city, and I love a busy city.”

Tennant and Sheen have bumped into each other before, both appearing in Stephen Fry’s 2003 film Bright Young Things, but they were never in the same scene. Sheen voice a character in an episode of Doctor Who written by Gaiman, but by then Tennant’s Doctor had regenerated. They tend to go for similar roles so there’s rarely a chance for them to both be cast — it’s usually one or the other. Gaiman, the author and showrunner of Good Omens, selected Sheen for the role. “I’ve known Michael for about a decade and one of the things that always impressed me about him was his goodness,” he says. “He’s just very good. He radiates goodness and lovability. I was always fascinated by the fact that he tends to play characters who, at least on the outside, are sort of brittle and perhaps a little damaged or dangerous.”

Selecting an actor to play the BMW driving, skinny-jeans-wearing demon was an equally tricky task. “For David, I was writing episode three and there is a scene set in a church. I had to bring Crowley on and suddenly I knew exactly how I needed that scene to be done in order to work: with him coming down the aisle hopping from foot to foot, going ‘ow ow ow ow ow!’ like he’s at the beach in bare feet. Only David Tennant could do that right. People seemed baffled when it was announced that they were cast because they’re a similar kind of actor, but the similarities between them felt so incredibly right when you’re building this kind of thing.”

Tennant and Sheen joke that when the theatre production of Good Omens (hold your horses, there isn’t one) travels the world, they will swap roles every night, even though Sheen says he couldn’t imagine it the other way around: “Ultimately I don’t think I can pull off cool,” he says, as Tennant scoffs in disbelief. “I think it just suits my natural being, that I’m kind of a worrier, and a little bit too anal for my own good. Things annoy me if they’re not quite right. And yet I like to think of myself as being a good person. So all of that hypocrisy and finickiness seems to lend itself to the natural rhythm of Aziraphale.”

“I love that you describe Crowley as cool,” laughs Tennant. “I think he thinks he’s cool, but isn’t.”

Tennant is adamant that having Gaiman as a showrunner is the pin that is holding this strange world together, one that is “tonally sort of nebulous”, but definitely very funny, and one that would benefit from a bingewatch to take it in all at once (all six episodes will be available on Amazon at once and later the BBC will broadcast them week-by-week). “I think if anyone else was running this they would’ve normalised it, would’ve made it saner, and would’ve ironed out some of the quirks of it,” he says. “Neil’s been fantastically clever at making it televisual where he had to, but it still has the madness, the impracticality of the book.”

Plus, there’s the fact that Gaiman is 50 per cent of the book. Because of that, his casting choices landed a little more softly in the world of Good Omens fandom. But Sheen and Tennant aren’t too worried about being unwelcome: they have in their short time as Aziraphale and Crowley discovered that Good Omens fans may be devoted to the point of madness (the cosplay and pornographic fan fiction has already begun), but they are certainly kind. “I have found that Neil’s work is almost like the Arthurian sword in the stone,” says Sheen. “You can only pull the sword out if you are pure of heart. And I think you only like Neil’s stuff if there’s something about you that means you won’t be mean to people on the whole.”

“I think that’s true of Doctor Who fans as well,” says Tennant. “If your mind is set in that way, then you have a generosity of spirit. And there’s quite an overlap between the two fandoms.”

They seem almost wistful until I bring up the airfield. Days after filming during a cold snap in Battersea Park, where we huddled like penguins around glowing heaters in tents, production moved to an airfield outside London where they had built a fake Soho to house Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was the place that changed everyone’s idea of what ‘cold’ actually meant, but it also became the ultimate green room of all time. Both of them look wide-eyed at the mention of the place, for both reasons.

“That blasted airfield! It was blasted in every sense of the word,” says Tennant. “But the great joy was you had all the cast together at once. Between takes we had this big trailer where they would blast the heaters and we’d go and recover.”

“We’d drink hot chocolate, tell stories, and watch TV,” beams Sheen, who says the thing he misses most about the UK is the fact that he can mention The Flumps and people actually know what that is.

“But the only TV channel that would work was some version of Turner Classic Movies,” says Tennant. “Ancient old movies on a loop. Michael McKean would just sit there telling us stories about people he knew or about some sort of terrible Hollywood lifestyle they’d once lived.”

Though it took months to get them both in the same room in the same city, it is a genuine treat to see Sheen and Tennant together. They seem to prop each other up, to fill the space where the other is not, in both acting and conversing. Neither steps on the other’s toes. Above all, they seem to have a deep respect for one another. “It genuinely made me sad when we stopped filming,” says Sheen. “I didn’t want to not be doing it any more.” Good Omens makes you wonder why nobody thought of putting them together sooner. It is the strangest buddy story so far, the one just before the end of the world, starring the most unlikely pals who for some reason quite like each other — mostly because they’ve just been posted here a bit too long by their superiors so they have more in common with each other than they do with Heaven or Hell — and, crucially, quite like us. It’s the kind of thing that makes you believe the world is worth saving.

[weerd1]

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1909.19: Missions Reviewed, “Time’s Orphan,” “The Sound of Her Voice,” and “Tears of the Prophets.”

Keiko O’Brien has brought the kids back to DS9 finally, and they plan a long overdue family outing. Traveling to a small Bajoran colony world, they are having a delightful picnic when eight year old Molly finds herself inside a cave and in danger. Miles tries to save her, but she falls into a portal leftover from an extinct civilization and they realize she’s been thrown back in time.  The station sends help and they manage to send a transporter beam locked on to her DNA through the portal, but when they beam her back, ten years have passed for her, and Molly is now a feral 18 year old.  Back on the station, Bashir prescribes a series of methods to try to reconnect to her, but even her language skills have atrophied after a decade alone. Worf volunteers to help keep an eye on Kiarayoshi (the O’Brien’s son whom of course Kira delivered) as he wants to prove to Jadzia he can be a good father (meeting Alexander certainly has not helped with that). 

Molly starts to make some progress, and asks to go home. They take her back to her quarters, but she reacts badly until she sees a picture of them on the colony planet, and they realize she wants back into nature. They take her to a holosuite, which goes well until their time expires, and Molly becomes angry, assaulting several of Quark’s patrons. Starfleet orders the girl to a treatment facility where she won’t be a danger, but O’Brien instead decides to take her and steal a Runabout, returning her to the time portal and destroying it behind her. Odo initially catches them, but lets them go.

 They put older Molly back, but she arrives at the same time as her earlier self, and sends the eight-year-old version of herself back through the time portal, erasing her existence, but restoring her family. Worf meanwhile has decided he likes Yoshi despite some problems, and he and Jadzia decide he could be a father.

We waited until late in the season for our “Screw with O’Brien” episode, but indeed here it is. There are a few echoes of the fifth season “Children of Time” here (and in the next episode honestly) but overall this is an effective science fiction plot that serves as an nice analogy for families dealing with sick children, and what it takes to be a parent with the Worf story line. Worf coming at babysitting like it is a Warrior’s task is amusing, and all the more poignant very soon.  I am interested in where this time portal came from, as much of it seems a little reminiscent of the Guardian of Forever, though the control interface looks rather pointedly like the TARDIS console from Doctor Who.  

“The Sound of Her Voice” starts with Odo citing Quark for installing unsafe barstools and Quark deciding he has to come up with something to distract Odo so he can sell some elicit merchandise. 

 With Jake watching for “research” purposes, he pushes Odo to celebrate his one month “anniversary” with Kira to provide a distraction allowing him to move his goods.  Meanwhile the Defiant is tracking a Starfleet distress signal to a lone survivor, Captain Lisa Cusak, of the USS Olympia (PNW, Represent!) who is on a class J planet, trying to stay alive.  As they track her, the establish two way communications and to keep her company, each officer takes a turn talking to her. In their own way she begins to talk them each through problems they have experienced in their personal lives.  On DS9, Odo shifts the day of his “anniversary” date, and that means Quark’s client will be there while Odo is on patrol. Without Quark and Jake knowing Odo overhears Quark lament how bad the war has been on him, and how he would like some recognition for helping bring Odo and Kira together.  Odo abruptly goes back to his original plan, allowing Quark to operate. Odo tells Kira that he owes Quark one…but just one. The Defiant makes it to the planet and finds that the strange energy field that caused the Olympia to crash in the first place has acted as a time dilation effect, and Captain Cusak actually crashed three years ago, and her oxygen ran out then. Sisko brings her body back to DS9 and they throw an “Irish Wake” for her (which Worf comments seems like a very Klingon ritual) to remember the time they got to know her, and the advice she gave. 

O’Brien toasts the fact that one day, it will be one of them not standing in the circle, and they should enjoy each others’ company while they can. The camera flashes to Jadzia Dax.

Holy foreshadowing, Batman.  They do, they cut RIGHT to Jadzia when O’Brien laments one of them may die.  Dammit, what are you people trying to do to me? Beyond that, I was struck by the similar circumstances between this episode and “Children of Time:” a planet with an strange energy field around it which displaces things in time. Being caught up with season 2 of “Star Trek: Discovery” I am struck how much the character of Captain Cusak (whom we see only as a body, three years deceased) has a personality and wit that reminds me of Tig Notaro’s character of Jett Reno. I just kept imagining her on the planet, similar actually to the situation which the Discovery crew WILL end up saving Reno from following the Klingon War in 2257 (about 117 years before this episode). I am not sure though why NO ONE tried to look up records on the Olympia, even just to see what her crew compliment was to aid in the rescue, and don’t notice the three year discrepancy in timelines.  As a bit of reference, since Cusak discusses the Olympia being on an eight year mission and the ship crashed three years earlier, they Oly’s mission would have started roughly the same time the 1701D launched under Jean-Luc Picard, and she would have crashed roughly the same time the Voyager ended up in the Delta Quadrant.

“Tears of the Prophets” opens with Sisko receiving the Christopher Pike medal of valor and with Admiral Ross deciding Starfleet, Qo’Nos, and Romulus will invade Cardassian space, specifically to knock out a new type of weapon platform in the Chin’Toka system.  The Romulan senator on scene is initially resistant, but becomes convinced. 

Meanwhile Dax and Worf become public about deciding to have a child, and Dukat returns to the Dominion.  He has recovered the Pah-Wraith Kosst Amojan (last seen possessing Jake Sisko in the apocalypse Kai Winn cancelled in “The Reckoning”) and will use it to attack the wormhole. When Sisko prepares to leave to invade Cardassia, he receives a vision from the Prophets warning him not to go, but he defaults to his Starfleet duty. While the battle is being hard fought (with the weapons platforms coming online mid-fight) Dukat infiltrates DS9 with the Pah-Wraith to deliver it into the Orb on the station. 

In the sanctuary he finds Jadzia Dax, having a rare moment of religious curiosity, and blasts her with the Wraith’s power. The ancient being enters the orb, and the wormhole collapses. When the Defiant returns, Dukat is gone, and Worf arrives just in time to say goodbye to Jadzia; Bashir saved the symbiont, but could not save the host. The Celestial Temple collapsed, his friend dead, and Bajor looking to an Emissary who has suffered such major blows, Sisko decides to return to Earth for a time to clear his head.  Kira assumes command of DS9, and when she enters Sisko’s office, is heartbroken to see that Sisko does not know if he will return: Benjamin has taken his baseball with him.

The death of Dax is almost arbitrary and just a senseless tragedy, which I think makes it all the more affecting. You would have expected her warrior’s death, but the almost meaningless happenstance of being in the wrong place when Dukat appears just hurts.  Dramatically it is effective; the behind the scenes story about how Rick Berman treated Terry Farrell leading to this death is infuriating. I know Berman kept Trek alive a long time, but damn, am I glad he’s no longer affiliated, and Terry gets to be married to Leonard Nimoy’s son (no, seriously) and appear at conventions alongside Nicole De Boer whom we will meet next season as the new Dax host Ezri. Jadzia was an amazing character, and I will miss her as the show continues, but it is effective and visceral storytelling that brings us Ezri Dax. At least something good came out of Berman’s abuse, and Jadzia, as I rewatch, re-meet, and re-lose her 20 years later will ALWAYS be one of the best things about DS9 and Star Trek in general.  And SCREW YOU  Kai Winn! This Pah-Wraith  being on the lose is YOUR fault. Also, I really like David Birney as the Romulan here, wish we'd seen a little more of him!

NEXT VOYAGE: A broken Sisko receives a distant mysterious vision, and an old friend with a new face appears to help find the “Image in the Sand.”

[tessatechaitea]

Team Titans #20

Is it sexist to point out cameltoe?

It's been about two weeks since I read a Team Titans comic book so I can't remember what was happening, which is probably a good thing. It's nice to see that my brain apparently has some kind of organic Roomba that cleans up after I've soiled my mind with terrible media choices. Revamping my old Patreon page has kept me away from re-reading terrible old comic books. If you enjoy my take on comic books perhaps you'll enjoy my take on The Bible? Or if you don't like reading astoundingly insightful and probably pretty funny commentary on The Bible if it costs you as little as one dollar per month, you can still bookmark the site because you'll get three free song reviews each week too! But if you want me to review a particular song, you'll have to give me money. I don't give my wisdom away for free! I mean, I do! But only in certain circumstances. I think what was happening in this comic book was a right-wing corporate and media conglomerate asshole (much like Rupert Murdoch) was preparing to time travel into the future where he could take the place of Lord Chaos and rule the world. It's the kind of plan only an idiotic super villain in a comic book could come up with. Any real life super villain would think, "I have so much money and power right now in a world I recognize, why should I risk everything by traveling into an unknown future where my biggest enemies await? Better to just buy a private island in the present and look at porn all day." But for some reason, comic book super villains are never satisfied. They never think, "I could retire with the amount of money it's going to cost me to create this death satellite!" The always think, "Man, having lots of money really kills your ambition. Maybe I should use it to endanger my freedom and possibly my life?" Idiots!

Based on these silhouettes, one of Lord Murdoch's henchman is just a gigantic sentient penis.

The Team Titans leader for the future narrates the big battle so maybe we'll soon find out who the mysterious leader really is! I think I've been guessing Terry Long throughout most of this re-read because who else could it be? Unless Terry's kid has one of those comic book experiences that ages him quickly, he probably won't be leading the team as a nine year old. Although I can't think why I'm ruling that out when I easily accepted Nightwing once driving a motorcycle straight up a skyscraper and Starfire falling in love with Wolfman-written Nightwing. A few pages into the battle, a bunch of Team Titans members (not from the titular and most important team!) begin to die. First killed is Gunsmoke. You might not remember Gunsmoke because Gunsmoke was a terrible name and Gunsmoke never did anything except help provide some context on the plot. We learned from Gunsmoke that the Team Titans were spread out all across history because the Team Titans leader created a truly inept time machine. Gunsmoke's last words (aside from "Arrrggghhhhh!") are "Great. Don't tell me y'all saved my butt in the Old West just so I can get it kicked in 1994." I guess in 1994, creating a character that's simply a guy dressed like a cowboy didn't cut the editor's mustard. The second character to die is Monsieur Poniard of Judge and Jury. He should thank his terrible name for cutting his comic book career short. "Mister Dagger," even in French, just isn't going to inspire the kind of terror that a super villain should inspire. And, yes, I'm aware of how many terribly mundane and crappy names exist within the DC Universe! I'm just saying, "One less is a good start." The third Team Titan to die is a nameless Titan in the background of Monsieur Poniard's death. She (or he) has orange hair and wears a purple costume so I think we can all agree why he (or she) had to die. You know, because Starfire already had claims on that terrible color combination. After Lazarium (Lord Murdoch's super villain name) takes down the main Team Titans in one blast, he jokes, "I love the smell of ozone in the morning." I know that's supposed to be a joke because he says, "Heh heh," immediately after. Earlier, Blue (unless it was Green or Purple or Yellow. Remember, the colorist of this current story arc is an idiot) quipped, "Yeah, and monkeys might fly outta my -- OOOOF!" So we have all the evidence we need that Jeff Jensen's main writing crutch is movie and television quotes. The fourth Team Titans to die is Two Gallon Hat.

I often come up with characters for my stories that I know are stupid but I insert them into it anyway simply so that other characters can call them stupid.

While all of the other Titans from throughout history are being slaughtered by Lazarium's henchmen (where did he get henchmen who put such effort into henchmanning?! I bet he pays a living wage, offers great health care choices, and provides a hefty pension), Mirage remains stuck in traffic on the streets below.

If only Mirage could easily do something to keep from being recognized!

I don't know what she did with Deathwing but I hope it involved a hedge clipper and a blender. Mirage steps out of the cab to find Cokie Walters staring at the corpse of Two Gallon Hat. Cokie apologizes for some reason which leads to Mirage threatening Cokie if she doesn't help Mirage save the Titans. Now how the hell is a bubble gum gossip reporter supposed to help with that?! "Mister Lazarium! Mister Lazarium! Is it true you pee through the gate instead of over the fence?!" Realizing that the Titans have met their match, Terra resorts to pleading her case: "Lazarium! No! Please — you can't just kill us like this!" Lazarium, who is a super villain who has really thought out his plan and understands the power of a truly great one-liner, replies smartly: "Oh, yes, I can, Terra — especially you!" I just got goosebumps reading that! Although after the Wayne's World and Apocalypse Now lines from earlier, maybe Jensen stole this retort from a movie too. Wasn't this the great line from the end of Die Hard 2: Dying Ain't My Thing when Bruce Willis sets the airplane fuel alight? Five hundred and thirty Titans got there asses handed to them by Lazarium and his goons. But not to worry because Prester Jon, Redwing, Battalion, Donna Troy, and just-out-of-a-coma Nightrider have arrived to save the day! And don't think they're going to do it silently! Battalion has a new battle cry that I can't believe didn't catch on with the youth of 1994.

How was this not one of the best selling DC posters of 1994?

Battalion goes down in one shot. Most of the characters will probably go down in one shot because Killowat will probably need to prove himself. Will saving the world from Lazarium be enough to make Mirage forget he's a racist jerk? Hopefully not! The first person to nearly put Lazarium down is called Liquid Joe. Being that he's called Liquid Joe, you know he's not going to wind up being the hero. His blast of slime doesn't even faze Lazarium. Time for Cokie and Mirage to save Killowat so Killowat can save the day! Cokie knows where Killowat has been restrained because she's a tabloid journalist. This was the era where we all believed Geraldo was going to discover the secret of the universe. Now we know Geraldo's only goal was to uplift Geraldo. That fucker will say anything for praise and a paycheck. I suppose you can say that about anybody who appears on Fox News though. After losing dozens of Titans, I have to admit that my plan would be to give Lazarium the time travel device so we could be rid of him. If he time travels into the future, he's not our problem anymore! Heck, he probably won't ever be our problem! The future no longer contains Lord Chaos so who knows what he's going to find in 2001. If in 1994 I were told that 2001 would be the beginning of some truly inspiring xenophobic bullshit masquerading as patriotism, I would have been all, "Yeah, I can buy that." Maybe that wasn't a good example. Killowat defeats all of Lazarium's henchmen with one push of a button. Then he goes after Lazarium. Lazarium believes he'll win for the same reason all bad guys (and Deathstork (who is a bad guy but sometimes people begin to think maybe he's a good guy who was never actually convicted of statutory rape so is it really rape? (Yes. The answer is yes. I'm answering on behalf of a large percentage of male Americans who would get the answer to this question wrong))) believe they'll win.

Technically it's not rape if you say, "Here! Take it!" I'm just judging by American legal standards which have an even lower bar than that to declare something isn't rape.

Killowat gives Lazarium a bunch of his power which causes Lazarium to overload and explode into a smoking scorch mark on the roof. But we can't believe Killowat has just killed somebody (even though his name depends on the idea that he kills) so he makes sure to think, "The overload couldn't have killed him. His corporeal form must be around here somewhere." Well, wherever Lazarium went, it's clear that this story is winding down, so he's technically defeated. But he would have been back if this comic book hadn't been cancelled in a few more issues! Oh wait! He's back a few pages later so Nightrider can feast on his blood. Now nobody has to worry about Lazarium anymore and nobody cares if Dagon murdered him because what's a vampire supposed to do? Not eat people?! Anyway, the time machine simply opens a black hole in the sky which consumes hundreds of the poorly named Team Titans. Preser Jon shuts it down and now the Titans have to deal with being part of 1994 forever. I mean, at least until the end of the year when they'll have to deal with being a part of 1995 forever. Or for a year, anyway. The final page of this issue reveals the leader and it's definitely not the leader anybody working on this comic book had planned it to be. Instead, it's Monarch because — guess what, motherfuckers?! — it's Zero Hour time! Team Titans #20 Rating: A-. I'm only giving it a high grade because this issue was the start of Zero Hour. Not that Zero Hour isn't a completely flawed premise that was just another gimmick to allow DC's editors to fix shit that the fangenders kept haranguing them on. But it is interesting that this terrible little Titans off-shoot comic book is where DC decided to begin the entire Zero Hour premise. My other favorite part of this is how we find out that Monarch is the Leader. My supposition is that Zero Hour was thought up long after The Leader was already a mysterious presence in this book. I'm sure the writers and editors of this book had an idea about who The Leader should be. Maybe it was Dick Grayson, or Terry Long, or Starfire, or a reintegrated Danny Chase. But it certainly wasn't Monarch which meant they changed the goal line as the story proceeded. Which is a microcosm of what happens during the Zero Hour event! It was obvious throughout much of Zero Hour that Captain Atom was going to wind up being Monarch. But since so many fans had guessed it and expected it, DC decided that instead of continuing with a plot and character arc that made sense, they would simply reveal that Monarch was Hawk. Sure, it was a surprise! But it didn't make any fucking sense. Fucking comic books!

[dreamstormdragon]

OC Snippet Tag

Rules of the game: Pick an OC and answer the following 7 Qs!

I got tagged by @theblueskyphoenix

As for an OC… Darnit making me choose between all my babies.

I pick my Spider-Verse OC Athena Parker, because I’ve been wanting to do more with her but am on a bit of a “Don’t do anything new until after nano” so… Yeah.

1. Your OC is at a jazz bar when they see a mysterious, alluring dame being pestered by a joe that just won’t let up. What do they do?

She, really wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. She was just there to make a trade of goods, with a seller because it was cheaper than shipping.

However, she wasn’t about to sit there and watch that happen. The girl stood up, adjusting her gloves, taking aim.

The guy opened his mouth, for another pickup line, when he was silenced by a glob of web across his mouth. He let out a muffled yell of alarm, as he started looking around, expecting New York’s favorite webslinger to be hanging around the bar somewhere.

Athena tapped the woman’s shoulder gesturing for her to sit next to her.

“Thank you… I have no idea where that came from though.”

She smiled.

“Maybe there’s a friendly neighborhood spider chilling around. Root beer?”

“Please.”

2. The world will be destroyed in three days. What does your OC do with their remaining time?

The world, was going to collapse in three days. No one had expected that blasted device, to be recreated in another universe… Let alone a universe full of danger like no other.

“This is going to be tough.” She remarked, looking down at the ruined city, her hair blowing in the wind.

The man beside her, narrowed his eyes, giving her a nudge.

“You wanna sit and wait for the world to die, or get home in time for dinner?”

Athena smirked, pulling down her mask.

“Let’s stop the zombie apocalypse. I wanna punch zombie you in the face.”  She gave a thumbs up, showing she had a capsule in one hand. “We can make a cure rain right?”

Peter patted her head, before pulling his own mask down.

“Let’s roll.”

3. Your OC spends the night in a haunted house for a bet, only to realize that the rumours might be true… What do they do?

She hummed a little under her breath, her mind trying to block out any of the noises coming from around her.

Yarn over, pull through, yarn over pull through…

The air around her went cold, as something icy grabbed her shoulder.

“I, swear if you interrupt my counting I’m gonna sock you.” She growled, turning as a large misty apparition shrunk down behind the couch. “That’s what I thought!”

“Boss…” A voice whispered. “What do we do? She just gets mad!”

“Take her dang yarn!”

Athena held up a spray mister, meant for plants.

“You touch my yarn, I cleanse you out of this dimension.”

4. A character your OC cares deeply about has just passed away. How do they handle their grief?

She supposed, it was too good to be true. To believe she’d ever have a full and happy family, where no one was going to disappear from her life.

She sobbed harder, burying her face into a bundle in her arms. His spare suit, his mask… It still smelled like the laundry soap he used for it and baby powder.

MJ was downstairs, dealing with the press but Athena… Athena couldn’t go down there. It was just a reminder, that in the end…

 Spider-Man, chose to save her instead of himself.

Dad… Why? Why did you do this to me?

 She sat up, slowly staring down at the mask. No more night time runs in their casual clothes, no more sitting up late watching movies while making jokes.

No more dramatic sighing whenever we go to the craft store…

No more tucking me in at night… No more kissing Mom goodbye before patrol…

“You were supposed to be there for me… I’m not ready for this part…. I’m not ready,...” She growled, her voice shaking as she punched the mask down into her mattress. “You were supposed to give me away at my wedding you jerk!”

She sunk down into her bed, curling up.

“You… You were the only one who got what I’m going through…”

Dad….

Please come back.

Please let this be a bad dream I can wake up from…

I need you… I’m scared.

Daddy, I’m scared…

I’m scared of the dark...

 5. Your OC walks into a coffee shop. What kind of coffee do they order?

Athena hummed a little, strolling into her favorite shop.

“Ah, if it isn’t the weaver!” The barista laughed. “How hard did your dad’s credit card cry this time?”

Athena grinned, holding up a hefty bag from her favorite yarn store.

“Pretty bad. Can I have a mocha frapp with extra java chips, six pumps of vanilla and caramel?” She asked.

The barista winced.

“Oh… Oh, you are terrible. You want actual coffee in that?”

Athena stuck her tongue out.

“Nope. Give me my overly sugary drink fix please!”

6. Your OC finds themselves in a financial pinch - they need money, and fast. Who do they go to or what do they do to get the dough?

Athena sighed heavily, looking up from her laptop, to the people across the room. Her mother met her eyes, as she shook her head getting up quickly. She wanted no part of this upcoming war.

“Daaaad.” She called, in the most sugary sweet voice she could manage. “How much do you love me?”

Peter didn’t look up from the report he was typing up for the Bugle. “How much is this gonna cost me?”

“Just… a hundred and fifty…”

“For what?”

“Freshly dyed, baby alpaca yarn… and angora in some beautiful shades.” She batted her eyes, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. “I promise, I won’t ask for anything else!”

“Athena… I’m gonna teach you a lesson my aunt May taught me.” Peter looked up at her with a stern look. “I’m not made of money. I’ll drop cash gladly on your yarn that doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg but if you want that really fancy crap, either wait until the holidays or your birthday. Or find a way around it. But I am not dropping that much on new yarn, when you have tons of it upstairs.”

Athena sighed heavily, looking down at the skeins she oh so desperately wanted. She already could imagine the sweaters and shawls she could create from them.

Then… she got an idea… Athena looked up at him, giving another innocent look.

“Dad? Can I have an etsy store?”

“By all means, if it gets rid of the yarn you’re stashing in my spider shed go for it.”

A few days later, Athena was listing batches of Spider-Man related memorabilia on her new etsy store, from jackets to order by commission, to premade little plushies of the famous webslinger… and a few of her own persona.

“You think people really are gonna buy Arachne stuff?” She fidgeted, looking at the tiny plushie in her hands, that resembled her costume.

Peter patted her head, taking it and slipping her a twenty. She looked up at him in surprise.

“I know at least one person who will.” He winked, giving her a grin. “I think I’ll make her my little desk guardian at work.”

Athena giggled, hugging him tightly.

“Love you Dad.”

“Love you too Weaver.”

7.  Your OC somehow obtains the ability to time travel. Where do they go, and what do they do?

She was going to stop this. She had been so determined to stop it… she didn’t think about what would happen when she did. She saw her younger self, milling around a shop room, singing under her breath.

Before she had been bitten by a radioactive spider, dropped into her dimension… while it sucked her newly divorced future parent into another.

She had been intending to jump back, to stop the divorce from happening in the first place… but it made her pause.

Her younger self, had been so alone… She had her group home, yes. Her fiber art club at school.

But years of accumulating skills, taught to her by people who had said “we promise this is the last home.” Had hurt…

Arachne stared at Athena, spotting a familiar bright green, blue and black spider crawling along the wall.

Soon, I’m gonna get bit… Then in a few months, Mom and Dad are gonna drop in on my life...

Gosh and I was gonna mess up a good thing I had…

I love my parents… but I know if I stop that, then I stop this.

Then I stop my family from existing…

So, she turned away. She jumped back to her own time, throwing away the device that was letting her make the jumps. Trading her costume, for her favorite dress and jacket, bolting down the streets towards home.

Home, with her room that had the special shelves, just for her ever growing collections of yarn and thread.

Home, with the old school sewing machine her aunt May had left to MJ when she passed.

Home, with her weaving loom and her knitting needles and crochet hooks…

Home…

With her parents.

ooooo

Aaaaahhhh this was fun, to explore Athena a little bit, since I do wanna do more for my spider gal. For now… This shall be it. This was fun!

Let’s see…

I taaaaag….

No one. >83

[zippdementia]

Ten favorite Snow Levels in Video Games

You have explored mountains, forests, rivers, a desert, maybe even gone to space. What is there left to see? Then it happens: the music becomes minimal and light (or you start hearing reindeer bells and peppy Christmas tunes), a snowflake falls, your character’s breath becomes visible. Yep, you’ve entered the snow level.

Getting its start in video game history as an easy palette swap to add variety to copy-and-paste levels (white isn’t a difficult color to work with), snow levels have evolved throughout the years to contain their own themes, mechanics, and atmosphere. Gamers today almost expect more out of their ice and snow than out of other levels. Does the character leave footprints? Do the snowflakes land on the screen? Does snow crust over on the characters’ clothes? And snow offers a wealth of natural wonders for graphics programmers to play with, from shattering ice to massive avalanches.

For me, though, what sets a really good snow level aside from others is its mood. Have you ever walked on a mountain in winter in real life? If so, you’ll know there is a soft quiet to everything. Snow and ice are fragile, but also incredibly treacherous. Nothing can kill a person as softly as snow. And nothing is quite so lonely as a trek through the mountains. Nothing seems alive except for yourself. A really good snow level will capture, through sound and graphics and situation, this feeling of being alone at the end of the world. Or it will capture the opposite! That festival feel of Christmas and the holidays, of children building snowmen and throwing snowballs, of family reunions and days off of work and school. Of holding your lover’s hand to keep each other warm while your breath frosts and mingles in the cold air.

This list focuses on levels within games that captured one of those feelings for me and still can evoke it, just by me thinking back on them. 

#10 Metal Gear Solid: Ice Field

Metal Gear Solid was a series about many things, but one of its central themes is isolation. Later games in the series would hit players over the head with this (re: Phantom Pain) but in Metal Gear Solid it was captured simply by the environment, the cold, unfeeling, and yet beautiful Alaskan landscape. And the huge ice field where you fight Sniper Wolf across a vast distance would set the tone for every sniper battle to come in the series. It was very personal, yet very... empty. Like the only thing that could bridge such a distance between two people was a fast moving bullet. Beyond anything else, there was an odd symbolism and beauty in the fight that happened here, and the cold snow only added to the metaphor.

#9 Final Fantasy 6: Narshe 

When I think of any Final Fantasy, I think of that opening cutscene in FFVI, where three mech warriors tromp across the frozen wasteland set to the game’s main theme and credits. Few RPGs have such an iconic opening. The three are headed to the town of Narshe, nestled in the snowy peaks in the north of Final Fantasy 6 is the mining town of Narshe. The town immediately sets the mood of Final Fantasy 6 and its aesthetic: steam billows out of ungainly contraptions, wind blows across its icy peaks, and the people of the town are suspicious and, in an unusual twist, you seem to be the enemy breaking into their town, labeled the Magitech “Witch”! Narshe sets a certain mood from the very opening, and then continues to play host to some of the most memorable moments from the game, including Terra’s game twisting transformation which ushers in the second act. You can’t think of Narshe without remembering all of these times and instantly get transported back into the feel of FFVI’s sprawling epic story.

#8 Banjo Kazooie: Freezezy Peak

And then there’s that festival feeling I talked about. Playing through Freezezy Peak is like playing through a holiday. The music, the bright colors, the giant snowman... all come together to represent everything warm and fuzzy about Winter. Like many levels in Rare’s “explore every corner to find it all” game Freezezy Peak feels like an entire world in a small package. It captures everything you might want to do in a bombastic wintery wonderland, including going up against a polar bear in a toboggon race.

#7 Breath of the Wild: any of the icy terrain

Some people consider the mansion on Snowpeak to be the best dungeon in all of Zelda history. I would agree that it is an unusual and interesting dungeon (especially when set against the rest of the Twlight Princess’ offerings) but while the trek up Snowpeak is a memorable one, it didn’t capture the feeling of being alone on a mountain as well as Breath of the Wild did. Comparing the two may seem unfair, as they are years apart in release, but really it wasn’t so much an issue of graphics as it was one of design. Snowpeak forces the player through a series of challenges, like following a scent in the darkness, fighting creatures in a snowstorm, and snowboarding down the mountain to the Snowpeak Manor. Breath of the Wild has all these things available, but it lets them happen naturally. Meanwhile, Link shivers in the cold, the music becomes soft and almost non-existent, and the amount of enemies drops off massively. With just a few little cues like this, the game demonstrates that you have entered the cold.

#6 Donkey Kong Country: Snow Barrel Blast

You’ve spent an entire game wandering jungles and forests. Then you boot up the first level of Gorilla Glacier and the familiar green landscape is doused in white. At first, my ten year old self simply found the change pretty, a nice upgrade to old school palette swaps. But as I kept progressing through the level, I noticed snow in the background. Then the snow was thicker. Then it was all around me and I was in the middle of a blizzard I could barely see through, affecting my aim on jumps as I tried to dodge enemies and land in life-saving barrels. Very few of the games on this list offer this kind of dynamic environment and it has made this level stand out in my mind for years. The change is handled so subtly that it happens without you really noticing until you’re well in the midst of ice and snow. Maybe it’s this that makes things feel so much like a real snowstorm and triggered me to feel like I really was stranded on this mountain, with no option except to push forward. Donkey Kong Country is a dangerous place, but nowhere did the environment feel so much a part of the game.

#5 Metroid Prime: Phendrana Drifts

Metroid games are known for their feeling of loneliness and isolation. For they most part, they are post-apocalyptic games. Samus always seems to be exploring worlds which reached and passed their zenith and are now fallen into disrepair. The Phendrana Drifts from Metroid Prime introduced a different kind of melancholy: that of the frozen wasteland, austere in its beauty. Here was a land that hadn’t gone through the apocalypse, it had never actually reached civilization. Nowhere did the Zebes pirates feel so invasive as they did on those serene snowy plains, their presence all the more notable for how it marred that perfect landscape. The music is incredible, such a huge part of this land’s ambiance, yet the visuals alone secure this level as one of the all time greats in snow design. I’ll never forget looking up for the first time in the stage and seeing the snowdrops strike and melt on Samus’ visor. To this day, whenever I get the desire to go back and play Metroid Prime I know that is this level I’m really desiring to see. Nothing later in the series was quite as impressive to me.

#4 Last of Us: Winter

Graphically, this is probably the most impressive entry on the list, as watching Ellie track a deer through the snow filled Winter of wherever she and Joel have ended up is an awesome experience. Snow drifts around her, builds up on her clothes, piles up as she moves through it. Everything just feels right. But what lands it a place on this list is where this moment happens in the story. Without giving too much away, Winter comes to represent not only a dark season, but a dark time for Ellie. It is the death of all that came before, the final gasp of innocence on a journey where maybe innocence was the most important thing to try and preserve. Whomever Ellie becomes in Last of Us 2, that started here, in the Winter of her discontent.

#3 Earthbound: Winters

Few games have as much personality as Earthbound, which pretty much ensures that any of the environments the game chooses to take you through are going to be memorable. Earthbound has such amazing ideas... I mean, it’s winter stage sees you summon the Loch Ness monster by chewing gum, tthen visiting Stonehenge... which is secretly an alien base. That’s nuts on an unparalleled level. The music seems like a long lost peppy Christmas song and every time I hear it I think of Jeff traveling across a snowy landscape, fighting off angry goats and flying saucers with only the help of a bubble gum chewing monkey. It’s always impressed me how much Earthbound did with so little and that earns it a high place on this list.

#2 Final Fantasy 7: the North Peaks

Okay, so the snowboarding alone would place this high on the list for memorability. But I was also always impressed by the game’s ability to capture the sheer hugeness of a frozen landscape. The further you go, the more that landscape changes. From snowboarding to traversing a huge snowland (one of the largest areas in the game) with only a rustic map as your guide, then traveling across a blizzard filled landscape, to finally arrive at the base of a huge mountain you have to scale up to reach Sephiroth. Through good pacing the game really makes you feel that journey. Then, too, there is the game’s unusual use of FMV backgrounds, which creates some very memorable scenes of high end graphics, where snow might be blowing madly in high rendering while your little lego-looking figure trods towards it. The graphical disparity for me helps to really highlight just how impressive the area is. Like nature (the background) is always going to be more impressive than you, the player.

#1 Journey: the Mountain

Journey establishes its mountain as a goal early on in the game and then proceeds to take players through a life-and-death cycle where the mountain represents both a harsh obstacle and also a symbol of salvation and renewal. There is no game on this list, maybe no game ever, that has as memorable a scene as Journey’s final moments. I don’t wish to spoil the game for those who have not played it, so believe me when I say that Journey achieves mood. To a fantastic degree. It highlights the harshness of a cold, unfeeling landscape--one that seems to actively wish for your demise. Everything I’ve talked about in previous entries on this list is here: strong graphics, little subtle touches like frost on your robes that grows thicker and thicker the higher you climb, a feeling of isolation yet connection... Journey does it all, and in a fraction of the time. If you haven’t played Journey, go do so. It’s an experience you’ll never forget and will always associate with a frozen landscape.

[monsterhuntingaddict]

Is King Ghidorah Really Evil?

This a pretty long winded rant, essay, whatever you call it that I wrote after thinking about King Ghidorah in KotM. 

Ever since the trailer for Godzilla King of the Monsters came out, there has been lots of speculation about various aspects of the film and monsters. Lots of information has come out regarding the other main monsters of the film, Mothra, Rodan, and King Ghidorah. But all information thus far has just been tidbits that explain their discovery and aspects of their biology. And Ghidorah is to be the main antagonist that Godzilla and the other monsters, and humanity itself, will have to band together in order to defeat. Ghidorah is one of, if not the main villain to Godzilla throughout his 64 year reign. The Joker to his Batman, so to speak.

Ghidorah has always been said to be evil, and he certainly plays the part. But one trend I've noticed in movies lately is that no matter how evil the enemy is made out to be, there's always an aspect of relatability. A story or aspect about them that makes you think about their point of view, to have empathy for the villain. Is that something that we might get with Ghidorah? Is Ghidorah truly evil this time?

Honestly, I think this might happen. One thing that was made apparent in the 2014 Godzilla movie and in the information revealed about the monsters before the trailer came out is that Godzilla and the other monsters are part of a natural order. The radioactive ecosytem in prehistoric past. The monsters had a natural part in nature's order. Godzilla lived in the sea, the MUTOs were parasites that preyed on his species and presumably other monsters as well, and Rodan lived in volcanoes around the Pacific. There's a few unknowns about Mothra and Ghidorah, and while I could probably come up with a good theory for her, I'm gonna leave that thought for another day. But Ghidorah more than likely had a place in the world just like all the other Titans.

Aside from a few shadowy glimpses, much of Ghidorah's appearance is unknown. And his origins are still shrouded in mystery. When Ghidorah first came around in 1964, he was an alien from space. In 1991, he was a mutation and fusion of three little Dorats. And in 2003 he was a guardian spirit that was not fully grown. I don't think they'll go the alien route for his origin in KotM. Partly because aliens would open a whole different route that the movies could take, and partly because the director himself said that the titans will look like something directly out of nature. So Ghidorah is more than likely a creature that naturally evolved on Earth. So if he evolved on Earth, what was his role in the ecosystem?

I think his role was greater than that of Godzilla himself. From information that has been released, we know that Ghidorah can generate massive storms simply by taking to the skies. Being an aerial creature, he probably hunted from the skies preying upon other monsters. Or he may have absorbed radiation directly from the sun by flying high in the sky. While we don't know what he preyed on, the fact that he creates storms is very important.

The first images we saw of Ghidorah, aside from the after credit scenes in Kong Skull Island, were artistic depictions of Ghidorah created by ancient cultures. The first was an Chinese depiction in stone, and the second was an ancient Sumerian script. But both of these depictions portrayed Ghidorah very differently.

The Chinese depiction simply portrayed Ghidorah as a great storm dragon, but a very important detail they gave him was five toes on each foot. In the Chinese culture, the five toed dragon was at the top of the hierarchy. Only the Emperor could wear the image of the Imperial Dragon. And in China, dragons were said to be responsible for bringing rain. That is something Ghidorah could certainly do. China is prone to the occasional drought, and if Ghidorah happened to fly through on his travels they would certainly have been grateful for the much needed rain. They regarded him with respect and reverance.

But the Sumerian depiction is very different. Ghidorah is shown attacking humans, blasting them with lightning as they flee and attack him. The inscription called him “The Death Song of Three Storms.” This artwork paints Ghidorah as we would have expected, but what could have caused such a 180 turn from how he was revered in China and feared in ancient Sumeria?  Was it Sumeria in particular that drew his ire, or was there something else that made him attack?

One important thing that might answer that is how dragons in general are described in history. They are always described as aggressive, malevolent, and evil. Stories of dragons are almost always tales about how they are slain by a heroic figure after causing great amounts destruction and death. Dragons were demonized very early in history, and thus always killed. As these views spread across cultures, dragons would more than likely be killed on sight. And Ghidorah was no different. While his golden scales, great size and immense power would make him a sight and figure to behold, his power alone is what would have made him a target.

The storms he creates are among the strongest our planet as seen. One of the images of Ghidorah found on the Monarch website is a weather radar image. The winds generated by him were as strong as 217mph. That's stronger than any other hurricane measured in history! Such a storm would be devastating in our time, but in the past his storms would cause even greater damage and loss of life. Structures and buildings back then were not built to withstand such storms, especially in a region were such storms are rarely, if ever seen. The first humans to witness Ghidorah's power could do nothing but seek shelter and pray they'd survive. But as humanity's numbers and weapons improved, and our egos growing with them, it was only a matter of time before they attempted to slay the great storm dragon.

The first attempts to do so were probably not even noticed by Ghidorah. As massive as he is a group of 50 or even a hundred people attacking him was nothing more than an annoyance, if he even noticed them in the first place. Humans are nothing more to ants to him, beings beneath his notice. The first tribes or armies that attempted to kill him obviously could  do nothing more than try. But Ghidorah would only ignore them for so long before he would tire of their feeble attempts and lash out. If a handful of ants attacked you, you wouldn't really care. But if the whole colony attacked, you'd more than likely seek to wipe them out.

And that is what would have driven him to the point of what we would consider turning evil. Mankind attempted to defeat him, a living force of nature. And as they tried again and again, he gradually came to despise humanity. That is what drove him to the breaking point. Humanity always seeks to conquer other humans, but he was the force we could never conquer. We sought to slay a veritable god, to control a force of nature, and it fought back. He became humanity's apocalypse. He became an evil we could never hope to conquer.

It is hard to tell how many towns, cities, and people Ghidorah killed in the past. We might not ever know for certain if he actively sought out human civilizations to destroy or attacked them whenever he happened to come across them. But there is a tale of his onslaught against humanity that shows how humanity may have been saved from the brink. A cave painting of Ghidorah, killing humans, but meeting resistance. Where the apocalyptic dragon was beaten back by none other than Godzilla.

While humanity, or at least this particular group of people were saved by Godzilla, it is not likely Godzilla arrived specifically for humanity's benefit. Godzilla only intervened because of Ghidorah's rage throwing the world out of balance. Species evolve and go extinct, and humanity's extinction would not affect the Earth. But when Ghidorah is on the warpath the storms he generates would decimate the ecosystem if he remained in one location for too long. Not only would he be responsible for the extinction of one species, but possibly many others indirectly. His constant onslaught against the environment would cause so much damage the local species and ecosystem might not recover for many decades, if even at all. This is what most likely caused Godzilla to intervene. If Ghidorah is the force of destruction, then Godzilla in the force that restores balance.

A battle between the two titans would have been a sight to behold. And it probably wasn't just one encounter they had. We don't know which location painted their battle on the cave walls, so while we don't know where their battle started we know where it ended. For now at least. Godzilla and Ghidorah had their final fight in Antarctica, with Godzilla victorious and Ghidorah frozen beneath the ice. For thousands of years Ghidorah remained sealed away, but if there's one thing that always happens in stories and movies is that evil can never be locked away forever. And when Ghidorah reawakens, he will no doubt still be holding on to his grudge against humanity and Godzilla.

As with most cataclysmic battles between two arch enemies, we usually see their similarities and contrasts. And Ghidorah is a prefect contrast to Godzilla. Godzilla himself is a being of immense power, but the main difference between his power and Ghidorah's (aside from the whole atomic vs. electric power thing) is that Godzilla lives in an environment where his power really has no effect on our world. His atomic power doesn't poison our seas, he doesn't seem to attack without provocation, so we rarely feel any signs of his presence aside from the occasional glimpse at sea. He lives deep in the ocean, in an environment where humanity has no claim. Since we can't easily access this world, Godzilla has no reason to like or hate us. We don't bother him, and he won't bother us. And because of this humans probably haven't attempted to or choose not to attack him, possibly out of some weird mixture of fear and respect.

Ghidorah on the other hand has this immense power that effects EVERYTHING. He can simply fly over a city and cause cities to crumble beneath his wings and kill many hundreds, possibly even thousands of people. Even if he were to fly over an unpopulated area in the countryside the massive typhoon he creates would devastate the land. The winds would topple trees, and his lightning could easily start wildfires which would create even more damage. Such unrestrained power would be catastrophic, and our society couldn't really afford to let Ghidorah run rampant lest our nations collapse under his might. We would attempt to kill him simply out of self-preservation. And thus the more we attack Ghidorah, the more violent he would become towards us. It would be an unending cycle, doomed to play out until Ghidorah is finally slain, or our race becomes extinct.

With such constant persecution against Ghidorah, there are moments where you can't help but feel sympathetic for him. A creature of nature, with its own place in the world, constantly attacked just because we can't learn to coexist with it. I believe this makes Ghidorah the perfect example of the tragedy of monsters. When Ishiro Honda first created Godzilla, he sought to create a monster not just for the sake of being an antagonist to conquer, but a character that would make us feel sorry for it.

“Monsters are tragic beings. They're born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy. They do not attack people because they want to, but because of their size and strength humanity has no other choice to defend itself. After several such stories, people end up having a kind of affection for the monsters. They end up caring about them.” - Ishiro Honda

Such a quote is usually describes Godzilla, and while this quote applies to Godzilla in his past films, I believe it's more fitting for Ghidorah this time around. Ghidorah wasn't an inherently evil monster. He's just a result of his circumstances. He wasn't our enemy until we made him one. We have to kill him just so our race can survive. We regard him more as an enemy to be defeated than an another that simply wishes to exist. We designated him as Monster Zero instead of using his name the ancients gave him. He is simply a target to kill.

 And from what we can tell, humanity hasn't adopted the kill on sight policy for Godzilla. Not yet. There is still time and the for us to learn to coexist with Godzilla. And god forbid we make him our enemy before that happens.