#but no breaking point was ever reached . does he get corrupted by the code and lash out in a moment where he isn’t himself ? does he get to

[ahalliance]

beginning the qetoiles narrative playlist with undertale’s “hopes and dreams”, a very powerful and uplifting music, and later down the line having a melancholic song with the lyrics “all of your dreams / swallowed in the heat of the sun” is perhaps me cooking tbh….

[kalcifers-blog]

TMA *EGOS*

PLEASE EXPLAIN MORE

Okay I'm assuming that you're asking me to give what TMA Avatar each of the Egos would be which I'll go into detail here!!! With!!!! Some bonus Picrews!! If you have any further questions don't be afraid to reach out in the ask box xxx

Before I begin I do want to mention that these are just my own thoughts!!! I would absolutely love to hear what everyone thinks/if you have alternative ideas to suggest as well :DDD

(For starters I think all of the Egos have elements of The Lonely to them- they all feel isolated in their lives for whatever reason)

Chase Brody (The Eye) - I think Chase is so unbelievably Eye coded and he's VERY Archivist coded in my brain, giving off Season 4 Jonathan Sims if you get me. The Beholding is all about paranoia, feeling like your being watched and this insatiable need to know more- which Chase pretty much checks every box in my brain (especially after Anomaly Found). Chase does have elements of The Corruption and The Buried which I think would mostly just because of The Eyes effects of his life.

Marvin The Magnificent (The Desolation) - to me I've always gotten the impression that Marvin's magic reflects his mental wellbeing and he didn't gain it naturally- a younger Marvin to me has always read as a Carrie White or a Sydney Novak type character- someone with such intensely strong powers that its only a matter of time before he destroys something- i think the thing it destroys the most is Marvin himself though, its harmed everything around him and has probably left him isolated and alone. The Desolation isn't just fire it's the destruction of everything it doesn't care for death it just drives to squeeze the pain out of you. Which for me is exactly how I've always imagined Marvin, the fact that he doesn't want to hurt others would only feed into it more.

JackieBoy Man (The Vast) - Now with Jackie he's always seemed to be the hardest character to pinpoint for me personally. But at the end I thought The Vast was the only appropriate entity for him, he's an odd mix of Crew and Fairchild where he's constantly chasing down the thrill of open air, of falling into nothingness. He also to me seems like he'd be the one Ego who'd be the most aware of how insignificant their lives are in the grand scheme of the entirety of the universe (plus as a bonus his comic is the only one this far to reference the grand universe and the sheer scale of everything.

Jameson Jackson (The Web) - JJ is so interesting to me because to me he's both puppet and puppet master. He's a people pleaser and I would go as far to say that he takes it the point no one ever truly knows who he really is, like Martin Blackwood, he's all smiles and kind gestures but he treats everyone the same, it's only when you take a step back do you realise just how surface level his gestures are. I don't think he's a bad person however, I just think he pretends to care a lot more than he actually does. He's manipulated but he knows it, hes the quickest to spot the signs of manipulation because he's seen it and he's played with the same strings- that doesn't make him immune to manipulation and I think part of him is aware of just how caught up he is in the web himself.

Henrik Von Schneeplestien (The End/The Spiral) - Henrik was almost impossible for me to settle on because there's quite a few he could fall into (I could even make an argument he'd also belong in The Eye or Corruption) but I think his true calling is The End. I see him carry death unknowingly to the people around him, he spends so much time saving lives to counter act it somehow, he can't save everyone but if he can help people just as much as he accidentally kills others then maybe he can live with himself- it obviously takes a hold of him and he's eventually unable to keep operating in this way which is where The Spiral comes in, I think the constant death surrounding him will eventually break him and unknown to him and everyone around him- the signs for this were all clear as day.

Antisepticeye (The Stranger) - Anti is not human, anti has never been human and him trying to convince you that he is one is nothing short of uncanny. He's not had the life experiences to know how humans are supposed to move, his body consists of that which is important for a human to survive but none of it works right. He kills people and robs their lives and their faces and mocks you with them. He sends people into paranoia because they know that something is wrong but they just can't tell what. He is a mask of humanity worn by a thing that doesn't know how to be human.

BONUS: Robbie The Zombie (The Corruption) - Robbie was the easiest BC yk, zombie. But I would like to think that he didn't die and come back. His zombification was slow and it started when he was alive, watching and feeling his body begin the decomposition process while he was still very much alive and aware and feeling. It slowly but surely robbed him of not just his life but his identity and he slowly started to lose himself within the rot of The Corruption as he progressed.

PICREW LINK

[a-stone-in-flight]

WOW @orangeswithsquirrelfaces your mind is something else! it was so much fun to read your more than slightly wacky and wise thoughts (and Tumblr sucks for deleting the initial version, but the quality of your writing is very impressive).

here's my response to your response to my response to your response to my response to your respinse to my post (lol for sure):

oh my godd baptizing frittatas with wild geese?? reverse cremation?? of an alligator?? and then an ex-con raccoon??? now that would be the best party ever. my only question is whether the firework permit rumor was true (and I love the idea of someone throwing such a wild and bizarre party but still making sure to ask for permission for fireworks)

also, your puns are objectively wonderful and I cannot be convinced otherwise :)

as for everything being a lamp: not sure if i agree but I am definitely quoting you on that.

that alarm clock (if it can even be called that) is uh definitely mildly excessive. and migraines are definitely the worst enemy

morse code is cool and at one point i memorized the whole alphabet (and punctuation) but it slipped out of my head like a party guest who heard there wouldn't be any frittatas. however i am evilly jotting down your one true weakness and will evilly use it against you in a very evil way mwahahaha

i also agree abt symbolism making everything better. well, to an extent. imagine if EVERYTHING was symbolic - what if we're all trapped in a story what if the computer I'm writing this on represents the slow corruption and destabilization of humanity and our growing dependence on technology and it dying on me will foreshadow our INEVITABLE DOOM or what if the sweater I'm wearing is symbolic of uhh familial love and if I take it off it'll be a betrayal of that or uhh if the tree outside my window is a symbolic manifestation of the increasingly fragile influence of nature in suburbia, reaching up enough to touch glass but not breaking through to us WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

mightve gotten a bit carried away there but yeah symbolism >>

and same everything tends to get existential with me too sooner or later and i definitely dont mind it. what would life be without reflecting on it? how could we live well without pondering how to live? idrk but i think existentialism is an inherent and necessary part of existence.

and holy wow thank you for your sharing your thoughts on change and creativity. that's a rly beautiful way to see it. your writing is so poetic and thoughtful and thought-provoking. if that's your rambling, idk if i could process planned writing.

also, speaking of narcissus, i had no idea that the flower itself didn't couldn't actually grow near water. that is incredibly fascinating and adds another layer to the story, imo.

have you ever read "the alchemist" by paulo coehlo? it starts with someone reading a story abt narcissus, in which the lake becomes salty (or saltea lol) after his death bc the lake cries at the loss of him, not because he was beautiful, but bc the lake could see its own beauty in his eyes.

things like that are so compelling, and they make me wonder if the inclusion of nature in the story is a veneer hiding smth else — a truth abt humanity, and its obsession with itself. lakes don't love seeing themselves in another's eyes — but humans do. to see yourself through someone else, to know who you are when you're with them — to see your faults and your flaws and your strength and your beauty and someone being there with you, for you, sharing a moment — I think that's what that story is about. I love the version of narcissus' story in "the alchemist," and particularly the way it's not just there without context, but included in the story, the way a character reads it and finds it lovely. is it lovely to turn a one-sided and punishable obsession into an impossible mutual fascination of self-recognition in another? I think so.

idk if you've seen good omens, but one of the reasons I love the main character's dynamic is how well it portrays that concept. in an interview, I think one of the actors was asked "what's aziraphale's favorite thing abt crowley?" and he responded "I can see myself in your eyes" (or smth like that, I can't remember the exact phrasing.) and in this story they've known each other for millennia, been each other's constant through wars and deaths and losses, seen each other at their best and at their worst, and learned from each other. and crowley usually wears reflective sunglasses to hide his demon eyes, so in public, aziraphale can always see himself when he looks at crowley — a buttoned-up, prim and proper angel. but when they're alone together and crowley takes off his glasses, aziraphale sees himself in a different way — more distorted, yet more accurate. someone crowley trusts with the truth of him. someone worth crowley's trust, after countless mistakes. and that tells him more abt himself than looking in the mirror ever would.

also, have u ever read ocean vuong's writing? I think in his novel "on earth we're briefly gorgeous" he mentions the allegory of narcissus, and how a professor said that it represented homosexuality and an unhealthy obsession with oneself. which, so much eugh to unpack there, but what ocean vuong said abt it was something incredible:

"Maybe we look into mirrors not merely to seek beauty, regardless how illusive, but to make sure, despite the facts, that we are still here. That the hunted body we move in has not yet been annihilated, scraped out. To see yourself still yourself is a refuge men who have not been denied cannot know."

using nature as a symbol of that, comparing a human reassuring themself that they're still there to a flower impossibly growing, is something natural. something beautiful, even. because flowers don't do that, lakes don't do that — but humans do, because we need to, because it's built into us. as beautiful as the red orange flame of autumn, as fickle and predictable as the changing of weather, as natural as the pitter patter of raindrops, humans come and go, live and die, ask themselves who am I? and if they're lucky, they find the answer in another. (or just with introspection obv ppl don't need romantic connection to be fulfilled lol)

I've never thought abt change the way you do — honestly, I've resented change more often than not. when I'm in a happy moment, I always want it to last forever. I never want good things to end, and even though it's inevitable, it always feels like a betrayal when they do.

but youre completely right, and I love the way you put it. no story would be good if the protagonist was always happy and never did anything different. change and chaos do brings new beginnings, new adventures, and new joy. and I'd like to believe that change will always exist, that it's impossible for the universe to become stagnant as long as there's life in it (ignoring the eventual the heat death of the universe or wtvr). then again, someone very wise once said "everything is a lamp," and all lamps turn off eventually :(

anyway, I should also hit the hay (that expression always feels so fun and whimsical) thank u for sharing your wise thoughts and your funny ones — reading them is definitely such a blast. if you read through my disjointed rambles thank you so much :) I hope you're having a good day/night!

EDIT: just wanna share a couple relevant and objectively funny comic strips on these topics

characters of all time

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

Newsflash: Dazai cares for Chuuya

Before reading any further, I will be talking about stormbringer, so spoilers ahead!! Translation credits go out to: @popopretty on tumblr, make sure to give this kind human some love and appreciation<3

Also if you want to read the first few chapters of stormbringer: @buraihatranslations is currently translating it, give them much love and appreciation as well, they deserve it!!

Honestly, I have been so obsessed with Soukoku lately and I think the reason behind this is because when it comes to Soukoku, their feelings for each other are not as easy to grasp as love or hate, it is much more profound than that. There is care, hurt, trust, resentment, companionship, bitterness, and consideration...And ironically enough, thats just the tip of the iceberg.

If we break down their individual feelings towards each other, it will be easier to understand their bond.

On Chuuya's end, his feelings are much more clear due to his expressive personality. He wears his emotions on his sleeves, he can try and hide what he feels towards Dazai but his true feelings tend to unravel easily.

He sometimes tries to mask his feelings towards Dazai by throwing insults, but his facial expressions are enough to contradict what he is saying.

Chuuya's feelings towards Dazai can be easier to comprehend. He obviously feels this certain betrayal due to the fact Dazai left the Port Mafia. Not to mention, he and Dazai have always had a rivalry relationship.

In the Soukoku wiki page, it is stated that Chuuya is aware of Dazai not experiencing a proper childhood, therefore allows him to act as childish as he can and lets him tease him relentlessly. I don't know how reliable this source is, but either way I think its worthy enough to add.

In the Dragon head conflict when Dazai was out of sight, Chuuya told Mori to forget about Dazai. That was until Hirotsu mentioned a microscope, Chuuya quickly realizes it was code language because he remembered a previous conversation where Dazai says he needs a microscope to be able to see Chuuya properly.

The moment he figured out it was a tracker, Chuuya did not hesitate to jump in and rescue Dazai. But here is the catch: No one but Chuuya knew about the microscope, if Chuuya really didn't care for Dazai he wouldn't have mentioned the microscope and kept all this under wraps, leaving Dazai in a mess.

Chuuya trusts Dazai with his life. He never hesitates to leave his life on Dazai's hands when it has to come to it. Chuuya and Dazai have known each other for years, for Chuuya to be able to trust Dazai that much is because Dazai also cares for him too, right?

The answer here is yes, Dazai cares for Chuuya. In a superficial level, it doesn't seem like Dazai truly cares, but I can assure you that he does care for him. Weather you like to think of his care in a platonic or romantic manner, the care Dazai has for Chuuya is undeniable and extremely significant for Dazai's character.

I think that stormbringer establishes this idea even further. There is one specific moment in this light novel that shows his genuine concern towards Chuuya's well being:

"There is one problem." Dazai cut off his sentence hesitantly. "It has nothing to do with the sucess rate of the plan. It is a matter we have to overcome in the end but... It may require some time to decide."

"What's with you?" Chuuya raised his eyebrows at Dazai. "Stop dramatizing it. Just hurry up and say it."

"I said earlier about this control spell to open the 'gate' that is used to reset the command inside Chuuya, right?" Dazai spoke with a strangely restrained voice. "If we use that, the logs of the command formula that were written in the past will be erased. That means...even if the memory erasure was used on Chuuya in the past, the traces of that will be erased as well."

"What?"

"I told you before right, the memory erasure command. The only way we can confirm if Chuuya is human or not is to check the history to see if the memory erasure command was ever used. It means..." Dazai looked at Chuuya with eyes that he had never looked at him before. Those eyes were serious. "If we use that control spell, the method to confirm if Chuuya is an artificial personality created by a string of code, or just a normal human being, will be lost. For good."

The time had stopped.

Chuuya opened his eyes and looked towards Dazai but his eyes were not seeing anything. The wind blew between the two of them. Even so, Chuuya did not blink.

"Verlaine became like that because he was tormented by the curse that he was not human. That only is enough of a big problem. The matter of being human or not." Dazai looked at his pocket watch, gave it a glance and continued. "I can delay the time until the plan starts for about two minutes. I will send an order for my men to wait... You can think about it alone for a while. Cuz I guess its hard for you to collect your thoughts with me around."

Having said so, Dazai turned away and walked down the stairs, leaving Chuuya alone.

Dazai fixated in his pocket watch. Two more minutes. Too short for a life decision. But he couldn't afford more than that.

Inside Dazai's head, he was planning a procedure to swith to an alternative plan in case Chuuya refused, at a tremendous speed.

This section in stormbringer is personally one of my favorites, this is a very rare moment between both of them, but especially for Dazai. Like I stated earlier Chuuya wears his emotions on his sleeves, therefore even if he tries to mask his care with insults, its still painfully noticable that he genuienly looks after Dazai. Chuuya also sometimes show a vulnerable side of himself to Dazai, especially after using corruption.

Dazai on the other hand is extremely unreadable. Its hard to understand his true intentions and if he really cares for people or only sees them as a pawn. In this moment though, Dazai was being painfully genuine. Dazai literally prioritized Chuuya over the mission. He was already thinking of coming up with an alternative plan just in case Chuuya refused, obviously the sucess rate of the alternative plan would be lesser than the actual plan Dazai had in mind, he choose Chuuya's wellbeing over a mission.

In this section, Dazai wasn't throwing jokes or witty remarks, he was being serious. Because Dazai knows how desperately Chuuya wants to be human. He knows how important being human is to Chuuya.

Dazai wasn't manipulating Chuuya by giving him the chance to decide, we can see that Dazai was literally showing a lot of hesitation when mentioning this to him, we also get to see what Dazai was thinking, and we can tell he wasn't thinking about manipulative his movements in any way. All of this wasn't coming out of manipulation, it was coming out of pure care.

After six steps, Dazai reached the stair. He stepped on the stair and started walking down. Three steps down the stair, he heard a *clang*, a cool sound of metal echoing behind him. It sounded like the metal was kicked by the sole of someones shoes. The moment Dazai realized what the sound was, Dazai turned around in surprise.

There was already no one at the top.

Dazai was dazed for a moment, then he loosened his lips and laughed.

"Trying to act cool, huh?" Dazai smiled, both annoyed and relieved. Then he turned on his radio and sent out his order. "Chuuya has sallied, everyone get ready for battle."

I personally love this part so much, relief washed over Dazai the moment he noticed that Chuuya was going to go through with the first plan, which proves my point that he wasn't manipulating him and how Dazai was under a lot of stress because he wasn't sure if the alternative plan would be as effective as his original one.

Yet he still was willing to go through the alternative plan if Chuuya refused, because Dazai values him and regards his wellbeing.

Dazai was being surprisingly gentle in this section, he was being honest. There was no ulterior motive behind his actions here, just a boy looking after his partner.

"So i'm going to send an order to my men to prepare for action... Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay." Chuuya turned to Dazai. "Why are you asking me such a thing?"

Dazai didn't answer right away.

That was an unusual expression. It's like he was trying to say something, but he had to arrange the words in his head to decide where he should start. An expression he rarely shows.

This was right before Dazai drops the bomb to Chuuya about the memory erasure command. He was even asking for Chuuya's opinion on sending his men to get ready, this was the first time Dazai ever showed actual concern without masking it with witty remarks. You can tell that Chuuya isn't used to this.

And when you think about it, when Dazai and Chuuya have missions together, Dazai always uses corruption as a last resort and he always allows Chuuya to make the decision if they will be using it or not.

I personally belive that the main reason Chuuya trusts Dazai with using corruption is because The Sheep used to exploit his powers too much, but Dazai leaves the decision to use corruption up to Chuuya. Dazai understands the physical and mental toll corruption takes on Chuuya and therefore leaves the choice up to him.

Theres another section in stormbringer that I really enjoy, it doesn't necessairly show solicitude but I still think this should still be taken into consideration:

"You seem pretty confident that Chuuya is human, don't you?"

"I am," Dazai laughed with a sigh. "There is no way a man-made code could create such a personality that I detest so much."

Throughout the whole story, Dazai is more than determined that Chuuya is human. The main reason Dazai finds Chuuya so intresting is because of how frighteningly human Chuuya can be, because of the fact that he always wears his emotions on his sleeves, something Dazai rarely does himself. Thats personally a nice sentiment from Dazai's end, even when Chuuya struggles completely when it comes to believing in his own humanity, Dazai still can't help but see him as a human being.

Also I am aware that Dazai literally said he detests Chuuya here but he also sighed and laughed while stating this, showing us that he isn't being serious about hating him.

And its not only in stormbringer were he shows his concern towards Chuuya. In fact, in this following manga pannel Dazai is telling Chuuya that if he is willing to listen him, he will stage his own escape so that Chuuya doesn't get punnished.

Honestly, if Dazai didn't care enough for Chuuya, he wouldn't have mentioned this to him. Chuuya didn't care enough to realize that he literally unwillingly freed Dazai which would get the pm mad at him, so the fact that Dazai is literally helping him out is no doubt out of care for him. If Dazai didn't have any regard for Chuuya he would've not staged his escape or mentioned anything to Chuuya, eventually incriminating him.

There are many misconceptions when it comes to Dazai's feelings towards Chuuya, people think that he doesn't care for him due to the fact that he left the Port Mafia, leaving Chuuya behind. But heres the thing: Dazai's intentions had nothing to do with Chuuya. He left the organization for his own good, he left it to fullfill Oda's wish.

"If Dazai cared for Chuuya then why didn't he take Chuuya with him?" the reason is simple, he knows how much the PM means to Chuuya. In stormbringer it is shown that Chuuya feels as if his humanity is attached to the people he is loyal to, in this case its the port mafia. Verlaine wanted to get rid of the pm because he believed that the pm is what kept Chuuya's humanity, eventually making Chuuya believe that he is only human if he stays loyal to the pm. Dazai knows this. Thats exactly why he didn't take Chuuya with him or even explains to Chuuya why he left, he knows it would be selfish to basically rip Chuuya's sense of humanity apart.

I have a feeling that if Dazai told Chuuya about the real reason he left the Port Mafia, Chuuya will not only feel conflicted about being in the pm, but he would also have an inner conflict with himself as a human.

People also think Dazai may not really care for him because of the fact that after the fight against Lovecraft he actualy deserted him, maybe that part was truly just supposed to be seen as simple humor, but either way I want to talk about it. Chuuya's only request to Dazai was to take him back to base safe, so why did Dazai leave Chuuya behind?

I mean he has carried Chuuya back to saftey before with no problem, for example in stormbringer when Chuuya uses corruption for the first time Dazai carries him back to the billiards bar and not to the mafia’s base so that he could say goodbye to his passing friends.

The reson behind this is because Mori needs to know that unlike Dazai, Chuuya is absolutely loyal to him. Leaving Chuuya the way he did will make Mori believe that these two really are at each others throats and that Dazai is insignificant to Chuuya. Making it seem that for Chuuya, the mafia comes first before anything else.

Therefore Dazai established Chuuya's saftey within the mafia since not only does Mori want these two to be hostile with each other, he doesn't want Chuuya to eventually turn against him if he truly found out more about Dazai's true reason of departure. Then again, this isn't canon but it is a logical assumption.

Not to mention that although Dazai did leave him behind, he folded Chuuya's coat and hat before taking his leave. There is also an an extra chapter where Ozaki Kouyou was talking with Chuuya but when he left he forgot his coat, which made Kouyou came across the coat; where she noticed a badge sewed inside saying "Name: Hatrack", she smiled fondly thinking to herself that some things just never change, in this case, Dazai and Chuuya's bond.

Dazai literally took his time to sew this into his coat just to tease him, it was a simple gesture but it shows us how their dynamic will never change. No matter what these two go through, they will always share a bond that consists on teasing, trust and underlying care.

All of this actually makes that theory of Dazai planting a bomb under Chuuya's car for the sole reason that the PM doesn't find Chuuya as an acomplice who aided Dazai on his escape much more feasable.

For Dazai to just plant a bomb under Chuuya's car with no motive makes no sense because if Dazai's true intentions were to simply mess with Chuuya, he would've most likely made it clear at that time. Dazai always has an underlying motive behind his actions, and in this case it is very likely that he did that for Chuuya's sake.

Don't get me wrong, I am aware that the bomb incident could've just been a comedic moment and I shouldn't look too much into it, but there is still a posibility, right?

These two hold so much trust and care for one another, yet they also hold a lot of bitterness and resentment. In the end the good aspects of their dynamic outweighs the bad.

Either you see these two in a platonic or romantic way, you can't tell me that their bond isn't significant.

Thank you so much for reading!! I wanted to talk about this for a while because I feel like people misinterpret Dazai's feelings towards Chuuya a lot so I hope this clears up things a bit<3

[respectable-username]

Based on the responses to my post yesterday wanting to know more, here's my guide to

🧑‍💻Code in Hermitcraft (and other SMP) Fanfic🧑‍💻

Note: This is just the interpretation of one Jr Software Engineer. If other developers have a different interpretation, I'd love to hear it in the comments or reblogs!

It's super common in Hermitcraft (and I'm assuming other SMP) fanfiction for the plot to revolve around errors in the game itself and how they affect players. The problem is, as a software engineer, this almost always immediately pulls me out of the story as the ways the game errors are described frequently don't make sense.

This is not a condemnation of writers who use game bugs as parts of their stories, as nobody expects all SMP fanfic writers to have a CS degree. Some even do it well and I adore those stories when I find them! But here are some high-level suggestions to have your glitchy plot points make a little more sense. Usually, it's just a slight change in wording that's required.

Code vs Data

"His code is glitched! He's evil now!"

"They carefully pulled at the strands of her player code, trying to find the bug that was causing her pain."

"Wow, your code is so ancient! You're from Alpha, right?"

These sorts of phrases are probably the most common ones I see that yank me right out if a story. Why? Because they're confusing data and code!

So, what is the difference?

Think of code in this scenario like the laws of physics. It's the rules that guide what can and can't happen in the world. It's what says "if you walk, you move forwards", "if you eat, you'll be less hungry", "if you use a shovel on a dirt block, it will end up in your inventory".

Data is the actual "stuff" in the world that the code changes via its rules. Data is the specific blocks in that building, that item hovering above the ground, the mobs staring at you from under the trees, the player character, the player's health, the player's inventory, the player's skin, and, in the fanfic context, the player's personality and memories.

In other words, if it's an action that can happen, it's probably code. If it's a specific thing, it and everything that makes that particular thing unique is data.

Of course, there can be bugs or glitches in the code which means that data does something it shouldn't, such as "if you put some TNT, some dead coral, and a minecart in this very specific configuration, you can duplicate the TNT." In this case, the act of duplication (ie the rules that let duplication occur) is a glitch in the code (the rules allow something they shouldn't), but the duplicated TNT itself isn't code; it's data. Data that shouldn't exist but does anyway because of that glitch in the code.

So, how could you rework the sample phrases above to make more sense?

"He got too close to a glitch, and his personality data got corrupted. He's evil now!"

"They carefully prodded at her player data, trying to find the broken property that was causing her pain."

"Wow, your data structures are so ancient! You're from Alpha, right? I can't believe you've survived so many updates without compatibility issues!"

Code vs Logs

"Xisuma looked through the code to find the source of the glitch."

This one's a little less clear cut, as there are circumstances where players could look at a version of the code. Some of the Minecraft code is Open Source (ie free to look at), and the rest can be decompiled from the Minecraft .jar (ie turned from machine-readable ones-and-zeroes back into words and stuff, although much less human-readable than what the original code would have been). The super-technical players such as the SciCrafters and I think Doc too will look at the code, which is how they make their super efficient farms and find and exploit glitches to, say, put 8 spawners in one chunk.

But generally, the code is not the first place you go when encountering a glitch. I mean, if it were that obvious from the code alone, it probably would have been caught before being shipped!

When something goes wrong, the first place to look is the logs. The logs of what the players have been doing, the logs of previous commands that have been run, the update changelogs for the game, the version history of the (admin-editable) config files, any warnings or error logs from the server itself. For example, if you have a malicious user such as, say, a Helsmit in your story, the logs would show when they entered the world and where, unless they also did something hacky to cover their tracks.

Personally, I also wouldn't say you'd have to stick to exactly what a server would realistically log if it makes your story more interesting. It's easy enough to hand wave that an admin has a mod in place that surfaces more information if it'd make the story better!

In a multi-server setting, this is also the point where the admin of your world could also reach out to the admins of other worlds and discuss if they've seen the issue before and how they solved it. The in-universe equivalent of looking it up on Stack Overflow or Reddit if you will!

Once the admin has looked at the logs and maybe chatted to others, if they still can't fix the issue via commands or config file changes, then it might make sense for them to try looking into the code if they can. Note that not all server admins are necessarily confident at programming as it's not a core part of their job.

But at the very least, at this point the admin should have a better idea of what part of the code could be bugged. This will make it easier to either a) make a patch for the bug or, more likely, b) understand what circumstances trigger the glitch and avoid those circumstances.

TL;DR: The code is not the first place admins will go when glitches cause issues; the logs are!

And as before, example sentence:

"Xisuma trawled through the logs, trying to find any indication of the source of the problem."

To Conclude

Code is the rules that govern what stuff can do and how stuff interacts. The stuff itself is data. When something goes wrong, that typically results in the data being in a state it shouldn't be in, wether that be because that thing's velocity is much higher than it should be after taking advantage of the ravager flight glitch, or because a player and a mob's data structures got combined on accident to leave them a player-mob hybrid.

Of course, this broken data is likely caused by a bug/glitch in the code. It could also be caused by somebody malicious who's purposefully trying to break things by messing with the memory in another way. It could also be because a cosmic ray hit a piece of RAM and flipped a single bit (this is an actual thing that happens believe it or not).

Either way, when something goes wrong, the admin's first point of exploration is the logs, not the code. The logs will give the admin a better idea of what the cause of the issue is, and talking with other admins could give them a solution without ever touching the codebase. But worst-case scenario, it is indeed possible for an admin to go spelunking through the codebase to find the cause of an issue and create a patch for it.

This just covers the most common code-related plot points that I personally see in Hermitcraft/other SMP fanfiction. If you have any further questions about writing code-related plot points, feel free to ask! And also, just to reiterate, this is all just my interpretation. Others may interpret differently, and if you do, I'd love to hear what your alternative interpretations are!

PS: I was also planning a section on hacking here, but this post is already getting long and that's complicated, and also I'm bad at hacking. But let me know if you have any questions related to that that you'd like to see in a follow-up post!

[my-writings-and-musings]

hello! if you are taking requests, can you please do the oxygen loss prompt with megatron and whirl?

I did Whirl in part two, so I have Megatron here with a ridiculously long one and I hope that's okay! I added Thunderclash as well so I can keep my pattern of two because... I like patterns. I might be getting super into this prompt...

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: You're Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Megatron

·You're in the ship's recently finished classroom organizing lesson plans on your own, having been working with Megatron to try and set up more structured class schedules on the growing list of topics he's begun to cover. You're thrilled he's found a kind of calling on the ship, especially one that seems to be allowing bots to see the side of him you know best. He's made it quite clear in his own way that your assistance in this endeavor means the world to him.

·He's on the bridge, scouting out potential locations for refueling on the next leg of the journey with the rest of the commanding officers. For once there's mostly cohesion in their efforts, and his insistence on choosing planets hospitable to humans is met with agreement, if not surprise. They're on schedule to finish early for a quiet afternoon off when everything turns to a level of chaos even the experienced crewmembers have to call extreme. The rumble that shakes the entire ship is one Megatron and experienced space travelers know well; they've been ambushed.

·You're nearly knocked off the desk you're standing on by the unexpected tremors. While you're trying to figure out what could possibly have caused the disturbance, a message is appearing up on the bridge, where alerts of failing systems and corrupted codes almost make it impossible to hear an alien captain decree an intent to storm the ship. Megatron attempts diplomacy before lives are lost, but the enemy makes it clear; this ship and its contents are more valuable than anything they could offer. While the captain notes their species has heard of the famed Lost Light and its crew, their hack of the security systems proved embarrassingly simple, and they look forward to the easy payoff from selling the scraps of the Cybertronians onboard!

·With communications down and systems struggling through an ongoing sabotage, Megatron still prepares to coordinate a defense, but is stopped before he can begin by a final taunt from their enemy. Their hack of the security cameras showed his fondness for his new pet, a homo sapien of all things, and thus his current concern should be for the atmospheric regulation instead of battle plans. But considering how many dead organics he's left in his wake, surely one more shouldn't perturb him too deeply, yes?

·The line goes dead just as the ship's alarm attempts to sound, signaling an impending attack before it too crashes with everything else. His fellow officers are moving to get defenses up however they can, preparing to get the resident tech experts on the job of restoring key systems while trying to plan a counterattack with no way to reach anyone. He's near to frozen as he tries to message you to no avail, the cruel mockery of the enemy cutting deep in ways words rarely do for him, if only because the implication terrifies him like nothing ever has; he's all but helpless to save you.

·Only experience and an undying determination allow him to break through the fog. Without asking for guidance or permission, he states his one intent; to rescue you however he can. If there are any objections, he does not hear them, and soon his pedes are tearing down the hallway to where he last saw you and prays he'll find you; the classroom. Oblivious to his rush, the only thing you're aware of is the fact that something is amiss, but you don't have a clue as to what. Between the tremor, the brief blare of the alarm and your inability to get your communicator running, you only know there's danger inbound.

·Not having much information to work with, you surmise that the classroom is probably not the safest place to hunker down, and recall that the medical and scientific wings aren't far. As the doctors on the ship have added human medicine to their repertoire, and are hardly defenseless, trying to get to them seems your greatest hope for securing yourself. Not wanting to panic, you push your supplies into a somewhat neat pile and climb down the small ladder that's been added to the desk for your sake. Somehow you don't find yourself at the top of your worries at all. Your thoughts center almost entirely on Megatron, who will undoubtedly be forced into whatever conflict might erupt, and even an unexpected staleness in the air around you hardly registers amidst your anxiety.

·Megatron is still too logical of a bot not to stop every crewmember he sees to give them a brief list of orders. He knows that, without a united defense and victory, there won't be any way you can be saved at all. So he takes the hindrance, though bots hardly take long to move when he issues a command. But his growing fear gnaws at him with a simple truth; without communication, he can't even be sure of your location, let alone your condition. Perhaps he's going the wrong way. Perhaps you're already beyond help. Perhaps you've already been discovered by the enemy. All he can do in the face of blinding terror is keep moving, keep coordinating, and keep hoping beyond reason that he'll be fortunate for once.

·You can't remember the classroom ever taking so long to cross, but that's hardly important, especially with your communicator still failing to function. Reaching Megatron would give you incredible comfort right now, if only to hear he's alright, yet that's obviously not going to happen. Honestly, it sounds silly to really think about it, the human worrying for the Cybertronian... But your anxiety isn't comforted merely to remember he's a gigantic combat veteran, not knowing anything about his current status is all it needs to wander to scary places...

·Closing in on your position, the mech in question echoes your worry, but his knowledge of the current danger puts his feelings closer to panic. All he knows is that he's coordinated a not insignificant number of bots for a better defense on his way through the ship. With better resistance on their side, he knows they can win, because they must. The alternative won't come to pass while his spark still flickers within him. That promise comes to an early test when he overhears enemies moving on the path ahead, and he takes the charge without hesitation, his terror converting quite easily to rage for extra assistance.

·By the time you're at the door you know something is wrong with you. Each step comes with a wobble you can't explain, and soon the dizziness you thought was worry has grown to almost debilitating levels. Why is the room spinning? Why does your body feel so heavy? It doesn't worry you as much as it probably should, but you know it needs to be fixed, especially with the ship potentially in jeopardy. Faint activity from the hallway outside spurs you to finally trigger the door to open, which thankfully appears to be one of the few systems still working. Heavy footsteps not too far away register in your ears just as you're forced to lean against a wall for support.

·The aliens that come into view before you quite unexpectedly are large, tough, and well armed. Most races would have found them an insurmountable challenge, and even an experienced Cybertronian combatant couldn't expect an easy victory against a single fighter, leaving you quite hopeless as you stare upwards in confusion. Megatron is not the norm, and his drive to win is fuelled by far more than just survival, so he feels little more than irritation when he finally arrives to the hallway you're pinned within. More than a dozen mark his path to you, their forms clustered around the helpless human in sick curiosity, and as a result they're heedless to his appearance.

·Hulking forms most definitely not of Cybertronian make tower over your body as it struggles to keep upright, the ceiling spinning overhead as you try to connect thoughts and move your legs to flee. A language you don't understand precedes a slow swipe in your direction, one that you stumble away from more than dodge, resulting in you roughly collapsing to the floor. Something like cruel laughter greets your painful tumble. You should be angry, being mocked like a bug skittering from its inevitable squishing, but God you're so exhausted. It's not even in you to be afraid when the barrel of an alien gun is pointed at your head and the scent of ozone fills your nose while the barrel fills with light.

·A second tremor shakes the ship, but this one proves to be far more deadly than the last. Your would be killers are obliterated by a blur of gunmetal gray that pummels them into the floor, and before you can blink the carnage begins and seems to escalate to unimaginable levels of ferocity. Only your familiarity with Megatron allows you to discern him amidst the flurry of quickly diminishing combatants, but he's nothing like the mech you know in this instant, going for sheer brute force over strategy as he tears aliens apart with his bare servos. In the bloody chaos you can't tell if he's taking damage or not despite the sheer numbers he was initially facing.

·The end of it all is somehow more startling than the beggining. In one final attack he ends the last soldier, quieting the cacophony of battle to leave only the steady drip of alien blood down the wall and his own haggard ventilations. There's a dash of bright energon amongst the mess, glowing in rivulets down his side, and somehow that's what gets your cloudy brain moving again. Pushing exhausted legs against the floor, you try to rise as you cry out in concern, reaching for him before you collapse right back against the solid ground.

·Heedless to his own injuries, Megatron is over you in a single instant, no longer blinded by the fury he'd experienced at the sight of you in peril. All he'd known was that your attackers had needed to die, no hesitation, and tearing them apart had come easily from there. Now things are once again far from simple. The blood on his hands doesn't stop him from picking you up as gingerly as he can, though your impossibly tiny body appears more delicate than ever in his massive palms. Though it makes him sick to realize, he does indeed know a struggling organic when he sees one, making the captain's words burn in his audials once more.

·Guilt is forced down to a minimum so he can focus on what matters; you. He needs to get you somewhere safe but with access to oxygen, and the only place that can happen is the medical bay or the laboratory, and he knows both are quite close. He couldn't care less about his own gashed side, so even if the medics and scientists are elsewhere he should likely be able to rig something up before energon loss impacts him. Holding you close, in a way that will permit him to shield you with his body, he starts moving while he speaks to you. It's obvious even to him his words aren't motivating, but at least they seem to get your attention.

·Looking up at him, feeling like you're tiny beyond belief thanks to his incredible size, you wonder how much of this could be real. Megatron had just hurled himself into battle for you, enduring agonizing wounds in the process, and beaten back what should have been impossible odds... If he wasn't so close you could touch him, you'd certainly think he was just a figment of your imagination emerging from the spinning hallways around you. His deep baritone rumbles reassurances to you as your eyes slowly drift shut, your perception fading around the edges until he's all you can see, and you can feel sleep beckoning like never before.

·He truly has seen enough organics dying to recognize that you're fading in his arms, and seeing the connection between such atrocities and you is slowly starting to tear into him with guilt that refuses to be ignored. How many lives just like yours has he snuffed out? How recently was it that he could have ended your life amongst the billions of others, unaware of what a gift you are to the universe? More specifically, because of this, what right does he have to so much as look at you? The thoughts are a dark and unmanageable tangle by the time he arrives at his destination, where an already overwhelmed medical crew is tending to the injured from an apparently victorious battle. He's near to shock when he hands you over to a frantically rushing Ratchet and simply explains you need oxygen, his hand gingerly cupping his injury before he firmly insists on being the last to be repaired. If he's spoken to afterwards, he doesn't remember any of what is said.

·The medical bay is dim when you awaken, and you see that you've been placed in your own private room when you look about, oxygen mask holding secure to your face as you do so. A massive shape against the wall would have startled you if you didn't immediately recognize Megatron. He smiles almost sadly when you awaken, and while you initially attribute his uncharacteristic weariness to the welded injury on his side, he quickly makes it clear that isn't the case. Whispering a simple wish for your recovery, he excuses himself and makes to leave, and you know that something is amiss m

·When you merely call for him to stop, he breaks, confessing that his relief to see you alive is equal only to his certainty that he's not worthy of you and can no longer pretend otherwise. It takes all of your strength to sit up and demand he stay; you refuse to let the bot who just saved you walk out, especially when you've made it abundantly clear his past is something you've accepted, and your firm reminder is cut short only by dizziness forcing you to lay back. The sight stirs him to return to your side, concern in his optics, and you lay a hand on the tip of his digit in a breathless and wordless reminder; he's more than his past to you, and you made that decision knowing the struggles ahead. He smiles as his digit gently strokes your forehead, recalling that he too had made a decision that day; to trust you meant yours.

Thunderclash

·The two of you are in the hangar practicing sparring, which for your benefit mostly consists of him holding up a training dummy against his palm while you whack at it, and as is often the case you've become sidetracked by conversation over actual work. He's laying on his front to keep the two of you closer to eye level, leaning his chin against his spare hand for comfort, talking about all the little things that come to mind as opposed to the grand topics he's used to being asked about. Frankly, this freedom a big part of what he likes about these moments with you. He gets to just be a bot with interests like any other.

·Your casual chat is interrupted by a communication from the command team on the bridge, who summon him for assistance tracing where a series of small anomalies across the ship might be coming from. Systems are glitching in ways that can't be explained, the defensive radar can't seem to decide if there's something in the apparently empty space around them, and in an ironic twist the message goes dead just as communication problems are mentioned. It's quickly apparent something needs to be done.

·Apologizing for having to cut things short, the massive bot offers to give you a ride to the heart of the ship, which he'll have to pass on his way to the bridge. Always eager to spend more time together, you happily oblige, taking the place of the training dummy in his palm as he lifts you to rest beside his spark. While his shoulder is arguably a more dignified location, you take more than a little comfort feeling the hum of his energy at your back, and thus have chosen this as your travel spot. Between his wound and the many setbacks it's taken to get him back in shape, it's just nice to feel his spark going strong.

·Not long after setting off, he gets the sense there's more to these troubles than technical error, and that something less than desirable may be the culprit. It's not something he can explain, but being more attuned to the subtler things in his environment just gives him a feeling. When he voices this to you, along with the thought you should probably be left somewhere safe, you ask what he believes might be coming. Not because you don't believe him, but you know he only drops his smile when he is preparing for something bad, and you haven't seen proof of any concrete threat.

·With almost comedic timing, the ship lurches at that very moment, nearly knocking the big bot off balance. Only his firm but careful hold saves you from a twenty foot fall. The rumble fades off with something like a great dragging sensation through the ship, which you'd compare to a Manhattan sized car grinding to a halt. Now cupping you in both hands, Thunderclash asks earnestly if you're alright, to which you reassuringly reply that a little turbulence isn't enough to do any damage.

·Smiling at the fortitude of your tiny body, he begins walking straight away, shifting to strategy as his red optics narrow in contemplation. He explains that the particular nature of that shake confirmed his suspicions something is planning an attack. Rather, they're initiating an attack. The sensation of a ship being locked to another and anchored is a particular one, and combined with their systems crashing it's obvious an enemy has come prepared to strike for a well planned ambush.

·You see that he's worrying, but you say nothing of it, taking hold of his thumb to communicate support. Being with him in private has made it clear his existence as a perpetual source of strength for others exhausts him, so you've since committed to acting as his well of certainty in difficult times. Not letting your fear bleed in to your words, you instead ask what the two of you should do, confirming your own communicator is uselessly jammed as you do so.

·Moving through the ship at considerable speed with his long legs, he decides that you'll still need to be secured rather quickly, as enemy combatants are probably already storming the ship or preparing to do so. You'd debate him if you weren't well aware of the logic in his plan. No matter what the enemy is, you won't stand much of a chance in a full on brawl, as anything confident enough to attack a Cybertronian starship is likely to have the firepower to back itself up. Still, it's impossible not to be dissapointed by your inability to offer aid, though it's probably for the best as you're rather exhausted from sparring anyway.

·It happens in a blur, but that's partly because of the shocking reaction time of the bot carrying you, something few would expect due to his size. Thunderclash registers the threat as soon as he turns the corner, a feat aided by the very much not Cybertronian appearance of the figures he sees, and then made far easier by the multiple clicks of weapons preparing to fire. Your presence in his hands became his central point of focus in that instant. Turning on the spot, he allowed the first hail of bullets to strike his armored back, keeping you well out of the line of fire before ducking behind an opposite corner for cover. The sting of the gunfire matters little when he sees you safe in his hands, and less when he instructs you to stay low after setting you down and charging in to fight.

·In the heat of it all, you're embarrassed to be caught so frazzled, as this is hardly your first exposure to alien combat. But there's little time to admonish yourself when chaos unfolds just around the corner, and your tiny size permits a small peek... Thunderclash is the gentlest giant in the world to you, but in just a few blinks the hulking aliens are on the losing front, and while his fighting style is far from gratuitous it is effective. You're still trembling from the rush of the initial shock when the last enemy of the group is on the floor, but even with your shaky vision you can see your bot is unharmed. For a moment that little burst of relief supersedes everything else.

·In usual fashion though, he expresses worry for you when he returns to pick you up from where he left you, drawing an affectionate chuckle from you at how impossibly selfless this mech can be. But he doesn't back down from the question like he usually does. His expression of concern intensifies as he starts moving again, and his sharp optics find ample to worry about on your seemingly unharmed body, with particular attention being paid to your face. Those brilliant eyes of yours are well known to him, and so he can tell something is... off in their beautiful depths. Even if his medical studies focus very little on organics, he's able to recognize the signs of a body struggling, and your paleness combined with the way you labor for each breath tells him something is very wrong.

·Now in a race against time, he has no choice but to move, gunning it towards the ship's tech wing where the laboratories and medical bay are located. He doesn't yet know what's wrong with you for certain, but aid will be there if it's anywhere to be found. There's no time to be wasted in securing you somewhere either, he's going to have to face any threats as they come in the moment whilst ensuring your protection in the process. It's a set of circumstances he's encountered before in his long and eventful time as a soldier, but there's an entirely new variable this time around; you. He adores you, like no one he's ever met before, and perhaps it's selfish but the very thought of losing you... he's not sure his spark could take it.

·The soothing tone of his voice and the rhythmic thumping of his footsteps make it surprisingly difficult for you to heed his requests to stay as awake as possible. Even though your breaths are coming in with difficulty, it seems like sleep would be a fantastic idea at the moment, even if only to rest your eyes. His cupped hands just support your body so nicely, and are so warm, and his voice is so delightfully melodic. Why does he seem so intent on keeping you conscious? Why does he look so incredibly upset to see you struggling to keep your eyes open?

·The pathway he chooses is mercifully free of conflict at first, but that matters little due to your rate of deterioration, as you may not make it even at his full speed. Driving isn't an option due to his need to be combat ready, and the lack of options and hope is absolutely tearing him apart. He hasn't had someone like you in his life before, and the desperation in his voice begins to show that, cracking as he loses his steadfast control of his usually impervious wall of confidence. The selfishness of his desire kills him; how dare he put his own feelings on you due to his weakness? Begging you to survive for his sake?

·No amount of haze can prevent you from startling at his pain. There are tears in his optics, though he doesn't even seem to notice them, letting them fall down his face as he pleads. In the warm fog clouding your brain, you feel a surge of worry, and your hand instinctively grabs at his nearest digit to give it a squeeze. Before you can even offer a breathless reasurance, he ceases running and dives from gunfire that seems to erupt from nowhere, laying you in a tiny maintenance crevice before hurling himself at the second delay he knows you don't have time for. The last thing you see before drifting off is the grief in his optics that you wish you'd been able to comfort...

·While his combat skills always make things quick, in this blur of pain and rage he's downright brutal, ending each foe swiftly but with absolute contempt for their existence clear in every torn limb. Hits to his own frame don't register at all. Bullets and blades mean nothing in the face of what he's about to lose, and the vengeance fueling his strength turns foes into scattered body parts more effectively than any grenade ever could. By the end of it all he's likely set a record for the swiftness of his takedown, but it matters as little as his multitude of bleeding wounds. All he can see is your now limp body as he pulls it from the hiding spot, and his vision narrows to only your faintly moving chest and his pedes moving one past the other through the carnage.

·There's a mass of activity in the technology wing, likely due to injuries as well as the many bots ordered to stand guard in the event of battle, but he doesn't hear the reaction his arrival triggers in the slightest. His sharp processor is reduced to one goal, and anything unrelated doesn't exist. At the sight of the crowded medical bay he starts to strategize. Ratchet appears in his vision, first focusing only on his obvious injuries and the alien blood he didn't know was spattered across his frame, before well trained optics catch sight of the tiny human limp in his hands.

·There's a rush of an explanation; they think one of the systems downed was the atmospheric generators, resulting in a loss of the oxygen the ship maintains for your needs. It's all the information Thunderclash needs to act. Brushing off any help for himself and encouraging the more egregiously wounded to be tended first, he requests only to be provided what you need. Busy tending the injured, medics still assist him getting a supply of oxygen going where they can, with Ratchet using his particular knowledge of human anatomy to ensure the ratio is correct for your biology while Thunderclash prepares it all. Dexterous hands set you on a medical slab where an oxygen mask and scanner are used to return your blood oxygen to normal, and just like that, he knows you'll eventually be okay...

·By the time you wake up your tiny frame has been moved to a private room, both to keep you from the chaos of crammed in bots and to give the two of you privacy from adoring admirers. He's beside you, his wounds patched but his frame still dirtied with blood, a sight that shocks you enough to force a gasp into your mask. Perking up the instant he hears you, the hulking mech is as close as the berth allows in a flash. A stream of questions about your wellbeing passes his lips before you can get a word in. Between the dried blood, the patched wounds, and the faint discoloration of his optics that suggests recent weeping... It's hard to know what to ask him, so you vaguely request a rundown of what happened.

·His face falls, and in between recounts of alien attacks and near death experiences there's overwhelming self depreciation. To hear him tell it the entire affair might as well be his fault. You've always known him to be humble, even critical of his actions, but this borders on self destructive. Worse, the crux of his crisis seems to be that he was motivated to save you not just by duty, but by his selfish desire to protect the one he loved so dearly and can't bare to lose. His own desires are inexcusable in these things, as he puts it, and could have hindered him at your expense. Shaky arms rise so that you can grab the nearest part of him, a digit once again, as you encourage him to stop tormenting himself. You owed him your life, several times over just for today alone, and there wasn't a bot in existence less selfish than he. The kindness of his spark was what you'd fallen in love with, and what you still loved now, because he was more than a legend to you. You loved Thunderclash the bot, not the expectation everyone else had built around him, and thus he'd always be enough just by being himself. Finally relaxing after everything, and his spark singing at your ability to become his rock when he needs one, he allows himself to just rest and exist as he is. Laying his helm on the berth beside you, he nuzzles close, allowing himself to feel simple gratitude to have and love you as you do him.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Character Analysis Masterpost: Main Characters

don’t see a character/topic you want? Send me an ask!

reminder: all these posts are just my opinions and observations. They are not absolute and you are more than welcome to disagree with me. There’s no right way to interpret a character

Sophie:

Bonding with Dex over Keefe

Sophie is Elsa pt. 1 and pt. 2 and a later pt.3

Sophie doesn’t think like an elf

Sophie already reached her breaking point

Why did she want to find her parents?

Her new Moonlark Symbol

What if Sophie put a tracker on Keefe?

What's next for her? Will her Unlocked development stick?

Sophie had essentially no one her entire childhood

She doesn't have the option to run away like Keefe does

How did she go a decade without ever feeling guilt?

Could she spy on Keefe with her spyball?

It's icky how she told Tam about Keefe's mom

Sophie doesn't pick her own clothes and pt. 2

She has been watched her entire life and its creepy!

Gisela's effect on her as a character (and a little bit of Keefe)

What if she pretended to know where Keefe was to mislead the Council?

How would her being a shade impact her character?

Sophie inflicting on Forkle, my beloved

Why was everyone so immediately mad about the storehouse and not Fitz killing Alvar?

She's the opposite of ELF (the movie)

What if she just...snapped :)

Will others think she knows where Keefe is?

It takes forever for her to get clothes she actually likes

Sophie is very genderfluid/enby/genderqueer coded

Surprise! She actually isn't oblivious

Is she right to call it a war?

The reaction to her match status in Legacy upsets me as an aromantic person

Going from the top to the bottom as a smart kid is awful

Telepathy in a hospital is traumatizing

What if Grady or Edaline died?

Does she struggle with communication?

How did she adjust to the elvin world so easily?

I personally don't want her in a canonical queer relationship

What about a corruption arc for her?

Keefe:

Keefe Never Wanted to Change

The ending of Unlocked was in character, actually

Keefe cares about Sophie and That’s It

Keefe’s Trauma

What next for him?

He’s based his entirely identity on Sophie

Dadwin? Maybe? Canon?

What's his role in this "War?"

The process for testing his new ability was awful to read

Despite being an empath, this boy cannot emotion

What might he do going forward?

This boy has a weird relationship with sedatives

Where might he try to hide? (and an additional reblog with more info)

Keefe and physical touch...incredible

Keefe as a healer

Him running away is going to be a whole ordeal...

Will he try to contact Amy?

Keefe is a private person

What if he just...goes numb and snaps?

Keefe corruption arc?

Is he more of a main character than Sophie?

Fitz:

Fitz is under a lot of pressure, okay?

Fitz and Sophie are still close; their story isn’t over

Should he have read Keefe’s mind in Unlocked?

he is The Gifted Kid and it hurts

Is Fitz an asshole?

Could anything bad have happened to him in the Forbidden Cities?

Why does he own multiple pairs of the same pajamas?

Why is he a telepath when Sophie already is a powerful one?

Fitz with an anxiety disorder

Does he has anger issues?

His relationship to Tiergan

Was his character killed by the love triangle?

He was upstaged by Sophie and is handling it really well

Tam:

Glimmer reminds him of Linh

Tam’s Trauma

Tam isn't like his stereotype

Why does he wear black?

He smiled at Sophie once and I loved it

His time with the Neverseen

He’s a burnt out gifted kid

His portrayal in canon is frustrating

This just in: kids with undiagnosed anxiety relate to Tam and pt. 2

He feels like an actual person, and I want more of him

Why did he break so many bones in his childhood?

He'd fall in love so quickly and hate it

He doesn't really have friends

Tam doesn't take a lot of initiative

Why hasn't he shadowtraveled more than once?

He doesn't know how to have friends, but wants them

He is so genuinely kind and considerate it's amazing

Could he have undone Lady Gisela's bonds?

[polymarinelove]

okay y’all listen up:

if you came to freeform’s siren for the ot3 or if you just loved the ot3 and are Not Okay™ about the current turn of events with the show, I have a show that will be a balm for your battered soul:

leverage

here are some of the perks:

ragtag team of “ex” thieves using their skills to take down the rich and powerful (white men)

epitome of the found family trope (this show basically CREATED the trope, I’m legitimately serious, deadass I believe they were the ones that truly created it) (edit: obviously I’m exaggerating but you catch my drift)

C A N O N polyamorous relationship made concretely canon by the last episode (although there are themes of it throughout the entire series)

also lowkey highkey the writer has been writing fanfiction for the ot3 on ao3 for the past decade but won’t say what his handle is. and no, I’m not even joking:

“villian” of the week storyline that never gets stale

after every con they make sure to dramatically gloat in the background, just in sight of their corrupt mark(s)

there is never a boring episode. no dips in content quality.

the writers didn’t believe in cliffhangers for season finales. they believed if you had to rely on shock factor or cliffhangers to keep the audience you weren’t doing it right

the Smart™ character is Alec Hardison, a black foster kid turned greatest hacker in the world. he loves and respect his nana above all else. (his first major crime was making the bank of iceland pay for his nana’s medical bills). he is PROUD geek (“age of the geek, baby”) and is can be emotional and there is nothing wrong with that (no toxic themes of black man hyper masculinity here, people). he is allowed and is unapologetically himself and on MANY occasions described (by his ot3 partners as well as the rest of the team) as the smartest man they’ve ever known. he is canonically romantically involved with parker for the last two seasons but he is also coded to be in a budding relationship with eliot (no toxic heteronormativity here either)

parker, canonically the greatest thief in the world, has many characteristics of being neurodivergent (possibly autistic) but is N E V E R made fun of or treated differently by her team because of this. she has trouble with emotions and connecting with others and was originally set up as the crazy, quirky girl character but the show was quick to set her up as SO MUCH MORE than that. her team helps her feel again after a rough, childhood and she learns to grift like a pro. shes baby and I’d die for her. she’s extremely smart and is built up to be the next mastermind of the team. her two love interests accept her for who she is and love everything about her. she is also bisexual (DONT @ ME I WILL TAKE THIS TO THE GRAVE THERE WERE TOO MANY HINTS AT IT)

eliot spencer, the hitter. basically is the brawn of the group that takes the hits for his team and fights if there is trouble or if they can’t just get in and out stealthily. started off as an 18 year old soldier with an idealized view of the world, slowly got involved with dubious military involvement and eventually turned into a hit man for hire. made many questionable choices but he eventually got out of that life. he HATES guns and when in fights, always takes his opponent’s gun away, dismantles the clip and throws it off to the side. despite all of this, he is N E V E R ONCE the toxic white manly man with a tragic past trope. never. yeah, he’s made major mistakes. yes, he has a tragic past. but that doesn’t define him. he attones for his past and tries to be better but it’s not a major plot point to overwhelm the viewer with manpain. he sometimes sleeps with other people but always cares about his lovers and pays attention to them (also lowkey sometimes the gender isn’t mentioned about past lovers so 👀👀👀 it’s Noted™). he is sure of himself and has the emotional stability that we wish bucky barnes would have. he teaches the women in his life how to fight and protect themselves. he loves cooking and uses his passion for it to teach parker how to feel (because cooking made him feel again after his terrible past). he’s so IN LOVE with parker and hardison- those heart eyes can be seen from the fucking MOON

sophie deveraux. grifter. english accent. EX art thief (“why does no one take that seriously!!!). wants to be an actress but cannot act for her LIFE unless she’s breaking the law. the mom/aunt of the group. she’s sexy, not just for her age- she’s sexy, period. she talks parker through grifting situations and teaches her how to interact with other people. I’d trust her with my secrets, but not with any valuables.

nate ford. the mastermind. an ex insurance agent. his son died after his company wouldn’t pay for his treatments. became a drunk, but the team gave him a reason to live again. his alcoholism could create problems for him, but it’s not glossed over at all in the show and is constantly addressed. he could be a dick and they didn’t excuse that. he and sophie have a relationship that takes three seasons to finally become something, and in the end after a lot of dancing around it becomes a healthy, loving relationship. he teaches parker to be the next mastermind, but doesn’t DREAM of leaving until he’s sure his kids parker, hardison and eliot will be good on their own. he could have easily been the broken white man trope but wasn’t. also, his “let’s go steal a _____” sctick never gets old- the bigger the thing they steal the better it gets, I promise.

literally, this is the best show of all time. it has it all: taking down rich white men, the found family of your DREAMS, a canon ot3

message my sideblog @leverage-ot3 for any questions or comments. you won’t regret watching this show, I promise.

(I’m tagging some other fandoms as well that I think might enjoy this show)

IMPORTANT EDIT:

the show aired from 2008-2012 (five seasons), but the show runners have reached a critical rage point about corporations today and have RENEWED IT for a sixth season (and possibly more)!!!

[msfcatlover]

Me: *rereads my old Portal fics*

Me: “Y’know, some of these are still pretty good! Maybe I should replay the games, and give writing these another shot...”

My brain, always ready with AUs and my latest hyperfixation: TMA crossover with Jon as Caroline, but he doesn’t lose himself in the upload process.

Me: “I... I don’t know if that would work...”

My brain, refusing to be derailed: His robot name could be “Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation.” SIMS for short.

Me: “That’s not a great robot name.”

My brain: No worse than “Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.”

Me: “.......Fair.”

My brain: Testing is like statements; he doesn’t want to like it, but it’s addictive and eventually he kinda needs it to stay sane. He regularly gets in trouble for trying to make the tests less dangerous for the test subjects, because like... draining the acid out of the acid pit ruins the integrity or something.

My brain: It actually makes no difference, but obviously Jonah is Cave in this crossover. He’s researching immortality, and this is just one of the ways he keeps Jon under control.

Me: “Elias was his first attempt?”

My brain: Yeah, but it was just a brain transplant. Now he’s worried about the integrity of his brain itself, I mean, physically it’s getting pretty old. And it’s not like aging is fun anyway.

Me: “So, I assume Martin’s Chell then.”

My brain: Obviously.

Me: “Obviously. Where does everyone else fit?”

My brain: Daisy and Basira are trying to get the whole company shut down for horrible human rights violations, but are struggling to find evidence. They go undercover as test subjects, only to realize they’re in too deep and have to fight for survival.

My brain: Melanie’s a reporter, supposedly doing a profile on Jonah, but secretly investigating all the disappearances that keep happening amongst the staff. Georgie brought her in on the case when Jon stopped answering all calls.

Me: “Tim and Sasha?”

My brain: Scientists, were on the same team as Jon. Might get kicked down to test subjects for asking too many questions about his “transfer to the AI department.”

Me: “Wait. All of this is pre-fall-of-Aperture. Doesn’t that take a lot of the punch out of making Jon our GLaDOS equivalent?”

My brain: ..............................

My brain: Mid-fall-of-Aperture. Terribly understaffed, running out of money, the “AI department” is literally just Jon on the paperwork, Jonah’s desperately pushing the testing/experiments to figure out the limits of brain-uploading before he loses access to the equipment.

Me: “I don’t think that scans.”

My brain: Sure it does! What’s the testing in the games even for anyways? It’s all cognitive, the portal gun itself only gets used in a handful of different ways.

My brain: Now the testing is specifically there to stress Jon out and test the stability of his personality matrix; no point in uploading yourself if the first major issue you run into corrupts your code or causes a major error. It puts Jon through the wringer, even zapping him with viruses and stuff, to ensure the process works, because Jonah doesn’t have the time or supplies for more than one test subject.

Me: “......huh.”

My brain, getting more excited: Merge the Eye-pocalypse and Prentiss attacks! Some sort of biological agent gets loose in the facility, and Jon hacks the security system to try and stop it. Any hermetically sealed area of the facility gets locked down, and he gasses the rest of the facility to keep the contaminants from spreading.

My brain: But they’re underground and the ventilation system isn’t the best maintained, so he can’t risk letting anyone out for fear they’ll get poisoned too. Just has to wait for the gas to rise up out of the facility on its own.

Me: “OH! So from the perspective of everyone in the testing tracks, this AI has just gone completely rogue and taken over the facility, killing a whole bunch of people and trapping them inside!”

Me: “I bet Jonah’s office is basically a fortress, and he still has security access to cameras and intercom, so he just eggs them on. Because this is an insurance nightmare, he wants to upload himself ASAP, so Jonah tells them there’s a manual override procedure for SIMS, but he can’t do it alone. They need to get through the testing, reach the central control chamber, and help him deactivate SIMS before they’ll be able to leave the facility. But actually, he’s planning to delete Jon entirely and replace him in the mainframe!”

My brain: Like the bastard he is.

Me: “So now, everyone’s in this weird limbo of trying to figure out what to do and who to trust. I mean, obviously in the AI apocalypse you want to trust your fellow humans, and SIMS did just gas the whole facility and trapped them in the testing tracks, but on the other hand ‘Elias’ is a shady bastard and SIMS isn’t always that bad?”

Me: “Like, sure, it can be pushy about testing and you can’t expect a robot to be good at emotions, but sometimes it’ll do something like ask for a verbal check-in because they’ve been down there a while and that can be psychologically hard on most humans? Someone complains about food, and SIMS sounds almost genuine when apologizing for not having anything else that can be safely transported to the testing tracks at this time. Once, Martin found a corner away from the cameras to take a nap in, and he’d swear SIMS was actually panicking over not being able to find Martin when he woke up.”

My brain: Tim and Sasha make snide, tired jokes about Jon giving the damn thing all his social awkwardness, as well as his name and voice (for some god-awful, unknowable reason.) They don’t want to let SIMS endear itself to them, knowing it probably killed Jon.

Me: “No, no, knowing that it killed Jon. They absolutely ask at some point if Jon’s okay and are told that amongst the however-many living staff members that are left, Jonathan Sims is not amongst them. What else are they to assume, other than that Jon’s been gassed by his own creation?”

My brain: Oooh...

Me: “Martin’s the only one who actually feels endeared to SIMS by the time they meet up, partially because he’s the only one who was trapped alone. Tim and Sasha were together, and already have reason to hold a grudge. Daisy, Basira, and Melanie met up early and spend a lot of free time fantasizing about smashing the damn computer when they find it.”

Me: “Martin was alone and he hates it, so he tries talking to SIMS, and is a little surprised when SIMS talks back. They’re not always pleasant conversations, SIMS can be curt and doesn’t have much personal info to share (being a computer and all,) but Martin does start to get a grasp on the situation as it must have at least appeared to SIMS when he pulled the lockdown-tigger. And for a supposedly evil computer, SIMS can be surprisingly helpful and seems almost as upset by the situation as the humans are.”

My brain: And there was that odd moment after Martin convinced SIMS to stop calling him “Mr. Blackwood,” and SIMS seemed almost flustered before very softly responding, “...Martin, then.”

Me: “Awww... please tell me Jon’s not actually dead, I need them to take him with them at the end...”

My brain: Suspended animation. The brain is still a vital part of the machine, but it never ages or degrades thanks to whatever combo of chemicals and cryosleep Jonah used to preserve him. Part of Jonah’s “manual override” involves adding a high-powered hard drive or four to replace the need for an organic brain, making full digitization possible.

Me: “But where’s he stored? He can’t just be strung up in the middle of the machine, that’d be unsustainable and Jonah would never let anyone within a hundred yards of it lest they realize the truth! A cryotank in a fake computer bank? A stasis tube hidden amongst the wiring, which they could discover while clambering about installing the hard drives?”

My brain: A cold room disguised as a locked closet or something, with the upload chair still inside of it? Only Jonah has the passcode, technically, and he was planning to go in while everyone else had their own tasks to do, just shove Jon’s body out and plug himself in, leaving Jon to finally die on the floor just a short distance from his friends while Jonah replaced him in the machine, removed the safeties, and escaped into the internet?

Me: “Oh, and Jon gave them a universal override or something to get them out of a dangerous situation towards the end! It actually leaves half the group feeling pretty low, having the thing they’re trying to destroy just hand them the key to its destruction out of pure, innocent trust.”

Me: “Then while Jonah’s distracted giving out instructions, Martin (useless with computers,) wanders over and opens the door, letting out a gust of cold air with a hiss. Martin coughs on the escaping gasses, and Jonah rushes to say that the cold room is very delicate, and ought not to be tampered with by people who don’t know what they’re doing—“

My brain: —but Martin blinks back the stinging, shock-induced tears, eyes adjusting to the dark of the closet and gasps.

Me: “And Martin’s only ever seen Jon in passing, really, they never properly worked together. But he was a little sweet on him even back then, and he’s heard the stories from Tim and Sasha, and he’s spent the last several weeks getting to know SIMS...”

My brain: ...He quickly calls Tim and Sasha over to confirm, just in case he’s got it wrong somehow. They’re just as shocked that Jon’s in there, with all his notes tucked away behind him revealing what really happened. Jonah tries to talk his way out of it, but is quickly arrested by Basira and Daisy.

Me: “Sasha finishes the notes first and makes her way back out. She’s shaking, overwhelmed with rage and grief and horror, and punches ‘Elias’ so hard he falls to the floor.”

My brain: Jonah starts to say something about assault, but Melanie congratulates Sasha for stopping him and Basira, completely deadpan, adds, “We all saw him make a break for it.”

Me: “Jonah shuts the fuck up.”

My brain: Part of SIMS’ programming was not being allowed to answer to “Jon” anymore. He never outright denies being Jon, just corrects people that he is the Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation. Tim finishes the notes, makes it to the cold room door, looks into the nearest camera and shakily asks, “Jon?”

Me: “For the first time, there’s a solid three beat pause before the intercom answers, softly and less robotically than before, ‘...Yes, Tim?’”

My brain: Tim starts crying.

Me: “Of course he does! He’s been grieving Jon for weeks at this point, trying not to let it show just how sad and angry he was that it all ended like this, and now it turns out that not only is Jon alive, he never actually left them at all! All those months thinking Jon ghosted them, left them behind in R&D for greener pastures, and Jon was all-but-dead in a cold room the whole time, and none of them ever knew! The relief, the joy, the guilt, the lingering bitter grief and rage, it’s overwhelming. Who wouldn’t cry?”

My brain: It takes them a few days to figure out the download procedure to return Jon to his body, especially since Jonah can’t be trusted on this front. Tim and Sasha are the techies, and they recruit Melanie and Basira for extra hands. (Martin’s still terrible with machines, and Daisy needs to watch Jonah to make sure he doesn’t escape.)

My brain: Martin, feeling useless, stays by Jon’s side in the cold room.

Me: “When Jon wakes up, Martin’s the first thing he sees.”

My brain: Martin sees him moving, meets his eyes, and gasps, “Jon?” Jon nods and tries to say something, but his throat is dry and his voice won’t work. Martin scrambles to get him a glass of water and steadies Jon’s hands as he drinks it. When he lowers the glass, Martin cautiously asks if Jon’s feeling better.

Me: “Jon just smiles and answers, ‘You said my name.’”

My brain: Martin’s confused. “What else would I call you?”

Me: “Jon shakes his head. ‘I just... don’t think I’ve heard you say it before. Certainly not to me. It’s... nice.’”

My brain: Martin laughs helplessly and says it again. “Jon.” Jon’s smile brightens, and Martin can’t help stepping closer, repeating Jon’s name again. Jon laughs along.

Me: “It’s on instinct that Martin takes the empty glass and sets it to the side, leans over the chair, touches Jon’s shoulder, cups his cheek. He hesitates when they’re nose to nose, breathing the same air, shockingly warm even when Jon’s skin is still cold to the touch. He meets Jon’s eyes and swallows. ‘Is this okay?’”

My brain: Close enough to feel the small, inaudible gasp before Jon whispers, “Please.”

Me: “They only get one short kiss in before the door opens and Tim makes a scandalized noise before loudly declaring this unfair and blatant favoritism. Martin all but jumps away, but Jon just rolls his eyes and thanks Tim for saving him. As the others pile in —Sasha claiming she did all the work, Basira needing to know if Jon’s up for making an official statement, Melanie both needing to pass on a message from Georgie and wanting an exclusive interview for her expose— Martin can already feel himself fading into the background, even as he and Tim help Jon to his feet.”

My brain: At least until Jon lingers, fingers lightly resting against Martin’s arm, and looks up at him with hope in his eyes. “Later?”

Me: “Martin’s not entirely sure what Jon’s asking (Jon isn’t really either,) but he agrees anyway. He doesn’t even hesitate.”

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me: “.....WELL FUCK.”

My brain, smug despite it being 4:30am: Told you it was a good idea.

Me: “I hate you so much.”

[willadisastercry]

Pidge is less okay than everyone thought... and that’s okay

Tw: detailed description of a panic attack, unintentional self harm (not intense or graphic)

Shiro and Lance are the only one’s who seem to be able to help when Pidge has an anxiety attack, they’re also the only people who know she even actively has them. But Pidge has overworked herself all week, not getting enough sleep or even bothering to eat much before today’s mission. So when she faces a hitch in an attempt to acquire possibly crucial intel that could put her family back together, she can’t steal her nerves quick enough before this one comes on and nothing seems to be working to calm her down this time.

“Really good work out there today, guys. Relax and rest a bit before we regroup later to discuss.”

Pidge had barely noticed Shiro was even speaking, too enthralled in the prospect of what could possibly be contained on the drive she’d secured with galra intel from today’s mission.

“Awh, come onnn Shiro. Can’t we just call it a night? I’m so wiped.”

Flight plans, prisoner logs, cargo shipment details, the possibilities were really endless and anything could get her one step closer to finding her father and brother. She couldn’t get complacent now.

“Would you rather wake up early tomorrow morning—“

“NO! No, forget I asked. Ugh,” Lance urged before huffing in frustration as he sprawled himself across the couch in the common room, everyone else already following suit and nearly entirely atop of one another.

They all seemed content to remain like that, but Pidge felt like there were bugs crawling under her skin. She didn’t want to relax, she didn’t know if she could.

Her heart pumped erratically in her chest as she felt more and more useless sitting on a couch relaxing when she could be analyzing the data that just might help her find her family.

“Anyone else have—“

“I’m going to go ‘relax’ in my lab,” Pidge announced resolutely.

“Uh, Pidge, you know the whole point of relaxing is ya know, not doing anything, right?”Hunk asked as Keith shifted to allow him to release her from under the weight of his arm where it fell in their semi dog pile onto the couch.

“I need to start my diagnostics on the encrypted files I retrieved before they corrupt,” Pidge’s words were pointed and direct.

“Lone galra cruisers don’t usually have tech guys, it’ll take some time to relay the news of the attack over to hq and even more time for them to properly investigate and figure out what we got away with... you’ve got plenty of time Pidge—“

“Well, we weren’t exactly stealthy and they could have failsafes already initiated ready to go at any moment! It’s crucial that I review and decrypt as much as I can before all of our work goes to hell—“

“I thought we were sorta clean with it...” Keith muttered deep in thought as he reviewed their performance over in his head.

“Woah, slow down,” Lance interjected everyone, “if you’re still mad at me about not catching that last sentry before you were done cleaning out all of the files from the server then, I get that, but you don’t need to be so—“

“Guys, guys! We’ll discuss it later, for now everyone’s only job is to chill out, and Pidge, you can go work in your lab as long as you promise to come to the meeting later with a cooler head, deal?”

“Yeah, whatever. Deal,” she gruffed before taking off towards Green’s hangar to retrieve the usb from today’s mission.

“Jeez,” Hunk sighed as he fixed his headband back into place from where it had slipped down.

“And I thought I could be hot-headed...” Keith mused almost in awe but also worry because why was Pidge this worked up over some data that may or may not even be helpful?

“I was still down from a blast during hand to hand with the second wave of sentries...” Lance stared at the floor, his face full of hurt as he recalled his moment of error in battle that he was certain causing Pidge’s mood.

“...I didn’t see the last one come up and when I did he’d already blasted the control panel to shit.”

“It’s not your fault Lance, the mission couldn’t have gone smoother. We did what we set out to and that’s all we can focus on for now, let’s just give her some space to cool off and wait for the meeting to dole the rest out.”

The boys agreed and stayed in the common room for several more minutes talking about how weird Pidge was being before finally heading off to get cleaned up.

Pidge wished she could get washed up, but she had so much work left to do. She was typing away furiously as she produced line of code after code, determined to not let up before she was done.

Her legs pumped restlessly against the floor while she worked, her entire body practically vibrating with nervous energy.

She just needed to configure a base for her decryption software according to the firewalls in this particular ship’s files so she could finally let it run and—fuck.

The altean computer screen wavered and then sputtered as it began rebooting.

“Nononono, no, NO! You’ve got to be kidding me...”

She could throw up.

The processor had overheated before she could get the last few lines of code typed to initialize her software which meant when it cooled off she would have to start from the beginning and by then... by then there could be nothing left to decrypt.

Panic swelled in her chest, the heat spreading as quickly as it appeared.

This could have been what leads her to her father, to her brother. And if she failed she could be what breaks her family... for good.

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until the strain in her chest brought her out of her staring competition with the blaring red across the screen in front of her.

Inhaling sharply, she clutched her chest. The initial breath hurt and so she breathed again to see if it would hurt again, and it did.

Shit, why does it hurt? Slower. Breathe slower.

But she couldn’t. She took another. And then another. And then she was breathing so fast none of her heaves seemed to alleviate the tightness that wrapped around her lungs and crawled up into her throat.

“Aha, fuck.”

The panic came on so quickly it almost made her nauseous.

The harder she tried to return her breathing to normal the deeper she seemed to plunge. But she still had work to do. And she had to be cooled off for the meeting or Shiro wouldn’t let her return to her lab.

She needed to, in her own words, calm the fuck down.

She’d done it before, managed to bring herself down from this point. But that was with Lance by her side to gently guide her breathing to something steadier and with Shiro holding her so tightly it was hard to find a good enough reason to remain so tightly wound.

And she was just very rude to both of them so she couldn’t ask for their help after that. Pidge had never done it by herself before, but she would have to at least try to now.

So she closed her eyes and forced herself to take in a large enough breath so she could count her inhale, hold it, and then exhale, but even doing that had hurt and seemed to just make deepen the ache.

“No... why... why isn’t it... working?!”

Her chest felt too heavy to do it, too tight and she couldn’t seem to manage the counts without making it worse. Her lungs would tighten up and ache before she reached the end of the time she was supposed to hold her breath which caused her exhale to be several rapid inhales instead.

Oh god.

She pushed herself away from her desk, in the process pulling the keyboard out as well as knocking over a pile of electronics that fell to the floor with a clank that jarred her now insanely sensitive ears.

There was too much input. Too many things making it impossible to do this on her own.

She scrambled to shut the radio off, but her eyes were blurry with tears and she couldn’t find the correct buttons, increasing the volume and switching it to a station of static instead.

She let out a scream she didn’t know she was holding back as she sank to her knees, clamping hands over her ears to try and block out all the noise that was now overloading her senses.

It was like everything had been dialed to 10.

The whirring of the computer processor as it worked, the cool air being pushed into the room from a vent over her head, the steady beeps and ticks of several different machines and... and the door of the lab opening followed by footsteps.

“Pidge?”

Keith.

“Pidge, hey... what happened?”

His voice was so loud.

“What’s wro—“

“Shh,” she begged, voice barely a whisper over her ragged breathing.

“Okay, okay,” he placated as he closed the distance between them.

“I can be quieter... and maybe if I turn this off, how’s that? Better?”

She nodded, removing her hands from her ears once he’d gotten the radio off. She hadn’t noticed when she’d started shaking but her hands were trembling so badly she had to hold them to keep them remotely still.

“I’m gonna sit with you, is that okay? Alright, do you think you can tell me what’s happening right now?”

She thought about it for a second and concluded that even she didn’t know.

She’d had anxiety attacks before, Shiro had been the first to name it for what it was. They were mostly inattentive ones where she’d dissociate, sometimes she would get worked up and hyperventilate, but it was only ever fleeting, short, over in a couple minutes. And other than that she’d always had some sort of an answer to nearly everything anxiety related. Except now.

Because right now she did not know what was happening, only that even her own heart pumping was so loud it made her want to disappear into a blissful cloud of nothing. She didn’t like not knowing what this was and why she was feeling it, and that realization seemed to break what little progress she had made in containing it.

“Wait no, it’s okay, you’re okay!”

But she wasn’t. She was so far from okay.

“Pidge, you’re safe. You just need to breathe.”

She knew that already and she’s been trying, but the more she tried and failed the more she became aware that there was nothing she could do on her own to stop it.

“This happens to me too sometimes, I know it seems impossible but you can do it. We can do it together, yeah? Okay, I need you to take a really deep breath for me, I’ll go first.”

And he did. He inhaled audibly and urged her to follow. And she tried, but her chest hitched and she choked on the air she tried to bring in.

Keith wanted to soothe her and placed his hand on her arm but she jolted so violently at the touch that he tore his hand away as if he was afraid he’d burned her. She met him with desperate eyes, sincere with frustration and impatience.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m helping much.... do you want me to get someone else? Hunk? Or maybe—“

“Sh-Shiro or Lance, p-please...”

Her hands were in fists on her lap and they were beginning to go numb, a tingle spreading from her wrists up to her shoulders and a similar one moving up her legs. She hated when that happened.

She hated feeling so much emotion when her body felt so stuck, so not there. Because she was there and she was struggling and now was not the time to go ghost on herself.

“I can’t-I can’t stop it, I just want it... to stop.”

“This feeling isn’t permanent, it’s just your body reacting—it’ll stop,” he moved his hand from the floor to her knee and she flinched again but let it remain there.

“I’m going to be right back with someone, is that okay? You’ll be alone for only a minute...”

She nodded through a strangled sob. Her mouth was starting to go dry and so she didn’t feel much like talking anymore.

Keith squeezed her bouncing knee before taking off in a dead sprint. Pidge surrendered to the heaviness of her eyelids and closed them for a moment as she vaguely wondered how he would describe the predicament to their friends and how exactly he’d realized something was awry at all, relishing in the prospect of focusing on something other than her own panic for a moment.

But the relief didn’t last long because when she pried her eyes open to see if someone, anyone was back yet, the world tilted.

She watched in horror as objects seemed to wane out of focus while others seem pulled into hyper detail, the floor stretching out in front of her in an unrelenting wave of movement, the little dots of static that you usually see when you blur your vision or just before you pass out were now moving so quickly she could cry. Correction: she was already crying, but she couldn’t stop full on hysterics now.

She didn’t know when she had scooted herself against the leg of the desk but was thankful for the support, thankful for something to remind her that she was on the ground, in her lab, in... space.

The way her chest contracted as her mind continued to do its own whirring, continued to think about all of the things she couldn’t possibly control but felt compelled to try to caused her a whole new type of distress.

It was too much.

She squirmed as she tried to get away from herself, from this feeling, throwing her head back hard enough to hurt as she wailed, but it didn’t because she couldn’t feel anything. It was like her entire body had shut off an entire sense and the others were thrown completely out of wack because of it.

And she didn’t know why she was crying exactly, there seemed to be too many reasons and not any all at once, but she gathered that it was one of those instances where now that she’d started it was going to be really hard to stop.

Those were really the only circumstances under which she cried, especially now that she was in space with a ship full of teenage-ish males and two very parent-like aliens, after going so long without crying at all only to lose it over absolutely nothing and somehow end up crying about everything.

But this was sort of different. Because she felt so much more wrong than just an overdue cry.

She didn’t have much more time to deliberate this because there were voices pulling her out of her daze. Shiro was knelt in front of her and Keith was back.

“There you are.”

Shiro moved one hand to her shoulder and she shrunk under it, her eyes wild and fearful as she could feel the weight of it, but nothing more.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just me,” he said as he moved to sit beside her against the drawers of the desk.

“Keith said you were getting really overwhelmed, so I’m here if you want—oh!” Pidge had rushed forward to bury her head in Shiro’s chest and his arms closed around her securely.

“I’ve got you, i’ve got you...” he gushed as he held her trembling frame, the tears still flowing freely and her chest still struggling under the immense pressure that had built in it.

She tried to ignore how trapped she felt, yearning for the usual ease that his tight embrace brought instead of this suffocating strain. She felt another scream bubble at the back of her throat as she let the weight of his arms take her somewhere almost worse, somewhere she wasn’t just struggling to breathe anymore, but now felt like she had absolutely no air to even try.

“Pidge?! Hey, talk to me, where you at?”

She pulled away from Shiro, his voice piercing her ears like a small explosion. He immediately retracted and searched her face for an explanation but it was just filled with fear as she drew her knees up to her chest, clutched her hands over her ears and tried not to give into the sobs until she had enough air to support such heavy crying.

But it soon became blatantly clear that she couldn’t get enough air in when her face had gone slack and her sobs had all but stopped except for the croak of her tired throat as she desperately tried to pull in air, the strong arms around her releasing completely now, more hands finding her back and tapping her shoulder.

“Pidge, you need to take a breath, the air is there. You’re—damnit it, you’re going to pass out if you don’t try. Is Lance on his way over? Okay, can you go get water and a...”

The rest was lost on her as black continued to impede her vision, Shiro’s usually warm and calming voice now just as sharp as the sting in her lungs and cut with worry. Tears still flowed down her cheeks to meet under her chin and continue down her neck, but they came silently, the hollow rasp from her throat as she struggled through irregular and rapid breaths barely audible anymore. She almost wished that she would just pass out already, let her body’s self preservation instincts break the unbearable cycle of panic it tortured her with.

But Shiro wouldn’t let her, he was just about ready to administer rescue breaths with how pale she had gotten before Lance arrived.

“Shit, Pidge, what the hell? You usually do so well with the breathing excercise I showed you... but it’s okay, this happens.”

Lance settled himself next to Pidge on the other side of Shiro and began to work one of her fists open, her hand was now lax for the most part, so it wasn’t hard and did the same with the other before putting his hand on her back while the other corded through her hair.

“I’m going to stretch your arm out so you can— damnit you’re really tensed up, do you think you can relax your arm a bit?” He questioned tenderly as he began gently easing her arm away from her chest, holding her hand while rubbing at the clenched up muscles as they released their tension.

“Yeah, just like that... you’re doing so good,” he murmured as he took her shaking hand up to his chest and pressed her pliant fingers down. After a minute she looked around lazily, her body still racked with trembling sobs before soft fingers were tipping her chin to meet a warm smile mouthing ‘hey’.

Shiro watched in a mix of awe and confusion as Lance handled Pidge’s crisis, ignoring the hesitation in his eyes because his voice was so steady and his so hands sure that it didn’t matter that he didn’t know in the slightest of what he was doing. He was just being him, this was his nature, to be able to read someone so well and provide them with such tenderness.

“Want to try and listen to how I breathe?”

She parted her lips as if to speak but a particularly pointed sob prevented it, Lance seemed to get the point though and shifted his legs around.

“I’ll let you settle in and you tell me when you’re ready for me to return the hug...”

Lance tugged on her other sleeve and guided into a cautionary embrace, his touch light and his hands remaining on her arms as she found the spot on his chest where she could practically hear his heart moving against his ribs, but... not quite.

Everything sounded muffled now, like she was under water but wasn’t prepared to take a deep enough breath before being shoved beneath the surface.

Except she was comepltely aware that she wasn’t actually under water. Like it was all a cruel joke where she was tortured while she watched everyone else around her breathe easily. Her mind still able to rationalize that even though she felt like she was, she wasn’t actually dying.

But Lance wasn’t flaunting the fact that he could breathe, he was trying to remind her how she could too. He squeezed her arms each time her hands tightened around the material of his sweatshirt, reminding her that she should be thinking about how his chest was working, pushing all the other junk in her mind away for now.

“Feel how my voice carries when I talk... how controlled each breath is... think about what you can feel and hear and touch... they’re things you can perceive... things you can control, don’t focus on what you can’t...”

Okay, he’s right. I can do that. Try to do that.

She shuddered through a round of hitches in her sobbing and pressed her face further into Lance’s chest, not even having the mind to worry about how wet it was getting with her tears.

Think about what you can feel...

She could feel the thumping of his heart even if she wasn’t quite hearing it at that moment, her mind making up the difference and leading her to imagine the sound it must be making each time it does... and how the air being pushed out through his nose must be whistling... and how the constant reverberations must mean he was... humming.

But then it stopped as he took a big breath and let Pidge rise with his chest as it expanded, sure to let it out just as steadily.

Her chest seemed to loosen then, her body rushing to take in as much air as it could before the panic spiked again.

“I’m going to hug back now, you let me know if you—oh, okay, I’m here, Shiro’s here too. You’re okay,” he ran his hands through her hair and pressed her tightly to his chest, his legs coming up to plant his feet firmly on either side of her as he began slowly rocking them back and forth.

It felt nice. He moved them carefully, slow enough that she could have been asleep in his arms and she wouldn’t have been disturbed, but also so securely that her mind couldn’t disappear the presence of his hands bracing her back and circling through her hair.

But the lull didn’t last long.

It wasn’t his fault, this is just how it went. When she got bad like this, the panic came and went in waves. If her body still had nervous energy left, it didn’t matter how much she managed to calm down, she would have to start from square one until there was nothing left in her to continue.

No!

Shiro was just as surprised as Lance when her voice cracked, the soothing sounds she was murmuring to herself as she worked her breaths closer and closer to normal broken by a wail.

Fuck!

Fuck you, fuck this, fuck—everything.

“-dge? Pidge?!”

“We’re still here, you’re still alright.”

“Give me a sec... there ya go, better?”

He’d turned her around so that her back was against his stomach and then held his hand up in front of her to show her before he closed it and lowered it to her chest, she knew what he was going to do and melted into him further as he began to rub gentle but firm circles over her sternum.

“Ahh... ahah, f-fuck,” she sobbed beneath him, she shuddered under the touch, her hands searching for something else, anything else to ground her and stumbling upon Shiro’s on one side and her thigh on the other.

She squeezed tight on both as she fought desperately not to slip again, feeling the way her body wanted to become light again.

Nope, we are just not doing that shit again.

She was so mentally done with this, but her body seemed to be losing energy too. She could feel it tiring, losing the warewithal to continue its draining overreaction. Turns out not having rested at all after their mission just to drop like this was a blessing in way, she was scared of how long she’d have been able to go if she wasn’t already worn out.

She forced her eyes shut and focused on Lance’s fingers, his knuckles pressing hard, but not hard enough to hurt. She’d almost wish he was. The rhythmic motion was heavenly because she couldnt ignore it as he kept the pressure there above her heart.

She gasped when she started coming back to herself, feeling the sudden shift when she seemed to be given the reigns back on her own breathing, sucking in huge gulps when she finally could control it.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good... listen to how I do it.”

Shiro was massaging the residual tremors out of her hand as he held it, the additional release of tension aiding in grounding her further.

She was faintly aware of the lab door opening but was too focused on not losing her pace, her breaths still manual and unsteady but a hell of a lot better than before.

“Oh...” it was Keith, he sounded worried.

She was confused for a moment before a hand was on her thigh.

“Hey,” Lance’s hand was at her wrist now. “Oh Pidge, don’t-don’t do that.”

Keith was trying to lift her fingers up but stopped when he saw that pearls of blood were starting to form beneath them and didn’t want his struggle with her to make it worse.

“Crap.”

“Pidge let—Pidge you gotta let go.”

The hurt in Lance’s voice stung. She wasn’t even aware she’d been doing that, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the iron grip, this peace was so tenuous and she couldn’t afford fucking it up.

When she didn’t respond Lance exchanged a knowing look with Keith who moved his hand under the palm of hers before both boys wrenched her hand up, surpressing how sharply he breathed when he saw the trail of red with sheaths of skin uprooted and purple crescents dotted about.

They sort of just stared, lost for a second, neither of them quite sure how to proceed.

“I got it,” Shiro offered as he took the offending hand from them, Pidge’s gaze still somewhere else.

There was a moment of silence before anyone talked or moved again.

“Pidge, hey. Keith brought water for when you feel up to it.”

Keith was kneeling next to them now, pouring cold water onto a rag and wringing it out before showing it to Lance.

“He’s got something cold to put on your face, maybe over your eyes? They must hurt...”

She blinked absently, silent tears making their way down her cheeks.

“This should help, ready?”

It took a second but she finally nodded and then the rag was descending on her swollen and bloodshot eyes. She jumped at first but he continued and once it was fully laid on it was bliss. The coolness calmed the angry puffiness and the pressure kept new tears from falling.

“I’m... gonna put something on your leg. It might sting, but it’s also cold so it’ll feel nice,” Keith said wiping up the small drops of blood that escaped the scratch wounds before pressing whatever it was down on top for a beat.

They weren’t bleeding much, the skin torn literally just enough to bleed. She also couldn’t really feel it, the area just felt numb and stiff. She hadn’t meant to draw blood, she just needed something that felt real to bring her back.

A spark of shame lit deep in her gut as realization dawned on her, she had hurt herself. Sure it was subconscious, but she still did, literally with Lance and Shiro right there trying to help. But she pushed those thoughts away.

She was far from perfectly fine, still working through the after shocks and residual anxiousness that followed. She sort of felt sick to her stomach and couldn’t stop swaying her leg back and forth as she lay against Lance, his grip as tight as ever, with Shiro still caging her unsteady hands in his.

Keith had gotten a blanket at some point to drape over her and kept removing the rag to re wet it with the cold water that she didn’t quite trust herself to drink yet.

“How ya feeling?” Lance murmured into her hair.

She hummed in response.

“Gonna take that as better, right?”

She nodded and then grimaced when Keith took the rag away once more and opened her eyes only to realize how much pressure had built behind them.

“What’s up?” Shiro asked when he noticed her face twisting up.

“My head hurts.”

“Hm, Coran has some sort of aspirin equivalent somewhere and... you could lie down, try going to sleep until dinner—oh! Hunk is making your favorite, he figured everyone needs a good meal after today.”

“Sounds nice,” she almost slurred, her head snuggling into the crook of Lance’s arm. She still shook as if she were cold, even with the blanket.

The three of them discussed something for several minutes but she tuned the conversation out, too busy relishing in how she could breathe again, only a small part of her worried about relapsing back into hysteria as the waves of panic returned smaller and smaller.

“Pidge? You awake?” Lance asked, trying not to eat her hair.

“Soooo, we were thinking of having dinner in the common room tonight, we think you should eat something before you turn in and we don’t want you to be alone just yet, also so you can be snuggled at all times... what do ya think?”

She smiled and scrunched her nose up with and enthusiastic ‘sure’.

“How bout I give you a lift?” Shiro smirked fondly as he squatted down and motioned for her to hop on his back.

They all had a good laugh at that, Keith and Lance joking about how they’ll never receive the same star treatment.

“I think it’s safe to say the meeting is rescheduled for the morning, sorry Lance!”

“Whateverrrr! The things I do for you, Pidge,��� he laughed as they settled in on the couch, Hunk almost suffocating her when he was done serving their meal.

“I’m never letting go, I hope you are aware of that.”

“Not complaining, just... can I have my arm back? Thanks.”

“What was even on the drive—“

“We do not speak of... of that, Princess.”

“Pidge can run her diagnostics again before tomorrow’s meeting and then after that she’s on an electronic hiatus. Also everyone’s going to their rooms at curfew from now on, no exceptions. You people are humans and you need sleep!”

“But Shiro!”

“At curfew? Like at exactly curfew?”

“Yes Keith.”

“Space...“

“Lance. Lance, do not say it.”

“✨Space dad✨ has entered the chat.”

[dameronology]

the one with the blind date {obi-wan x reader}

summary: your mother has a knack for setting you up on the worst blind dates. this time, it might be different. 

i know what you’re thinking - ‘but val! jedi aren’t allowed to date!’ but for the sake of this fic, the jedi code can suck a fat one because it’s 3am 5am and i don’t have the brain cells to work around star wars canon 

love u lots and hope you enjoy 

- jazz

You weren’t entirely sure if your mother’s judgement towards your life choices was supposed to be malicious or not, but it certainly felt like it. The fact she called you to remind you that your cousin just had her third baby! or mention in passing that your friend from school just got married (again)! always felt like it had an ulterior motive. You loved the woman dearly but maker, you wished she would shut the hell up sometimes.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t successful. You had an important job working for the Senate, you’d graduated from the University of Cloud City with honours and you owned an apartment in Coruscant. Did she know how hard it was to get on the property ladder in this city? It was probably one of the selling points she used every time she set you up on a blind date. They were usually with older men, twice divorced and with more baggage than you were ready for.

You weren’t expecting this date to be any different - your mother had mentioned he was a friend of a friend (possibly of a friend, of another friend and then maybe the colleague of that friend). She hadn’t told you what job he had, only that he was a bit older than you and ‘earned enough to support a small family’ - but you had chosen to ignore that last part. She’d arranged for you to meet at a diner downtown in the early evening, and you weren’t expecting too much. 

There were only two people in the diner. One was a man of an alien species who appeared to be roughly 150; he had a pint in one hand and a burger in the other. The other one was undoubtedly a Jedi - and a very attractive one too. He was browsing the menu, brow furrowed slightly as he frowned. He looked up as the bell on the door rang, and your eyes met. If he was your date, your mother had done well for once (though she could have pre-warned you about his occupation).

‘Hey, you must be-’ He offered you a warm smile, standing up from the table to wave you over.

Say something, dumbass you pushed yourself. 

‘- that sure is me!’ You quipped. Great start, you moron. 

‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ The Jedi sat back down as you shuffled into the booth opposite him. ‘I’m Obi-Wan.’

‘Right, yeah - sorry, my mum did tell me your name.’ You replied. 

‘What else did she tell you?’ He quipped, quirking one of his brows. ‘Just so I can try and live up to whatever lively image I’m sure she’s created.’

‘Just your name.’ You laughed. ‘She didn’t mention being a Jedi or anything.’

Obi-Wan paused for a minute. ‘Oh, I’m not a Jedi.’

You froze slightly, quickly trying to think of a response. It hadn’t been a reach - he was wearing robes, and you could see what looked like a lightsaber under the table. Not that you had been looking under the table, or down there - and maker, this was embarrassing.

‘I’m joking.’ He suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. ‘I am a Jedi. I thought it would break the ice but you look like you’re about to cry-’

‘- that was mean!’ You reached across the table to swat at his shoulder. ‘I pride myself on my intuition, Obi-Wan.’ 

‘I wouldn’t call the fact I’m wearing a Jedi robes and carrying a lightsaber intuition, more like the glaringly obvious.’ He leant back, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirked at you.

You liked this guy.

‘But what do you do?’ Obi-Wan continued. ‘Your mother mentioned that you work for the Senate.’

‘I do!’ You replied. ‘I’m a political advisor.’

‘What does that entail?’

‘I just sit there and tell the senators if they’re being just a bit stupid or completely stupid.’ You grinned. 

‘Well, it certainly sounds like a very important job.’ He smiled back.

‘You’re one to talk. You’re like..the keeper of the Force.’ You replied. 

‘That’s not quite it.’ Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh at your attempt to describe his job. ‘But you’re close.’

--

Two hours later - and after ordering food that you’d both been too distracted to touch - you were both doubled over in laughter at something Obi-Wan had said. He was funny; you’d figured out that much. It wasn’t in an obvious way, but more of a charming, observant way. He took an interest in you as well - he asked about your job, your hobbies and your time at college. In a way, he felt a bit too good to be true. Every guy your mother set you up with had fallen short within the first five minutes.

What could it be? Was he secretly already married? Was he a convicted criminal on the run and posing as a Jedi? 

‘I have to ask.’ Obi-Wan reached across the table, warm hand falling on top of yours. ‘You have a good job. You own your own apartment and you’re beautiful. Why do you need your mother to find you a date?’

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. ‘I don’t meet many suitable people in my line of work. They’re either much, much older senators or...actually, that’s it.’

He chuckled slightly, squeezing your hand - you could have sworn that your heart stopped for a moment (either that, or your coffee addiction had finally caught up with you). The fact you’d been too deep in conversation with him to even look at your food said a lot. Before now, no man would ever have been able to come to between you and a burger. 

‘Let’s get out of here.’ Obi-Wan threw a few credits on the table. ‘I know a place that has better food.’

You tossed a few of your own credits, giving him a nod. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it since neither of us actually touched this food.’

‘I’m easily distracted, apparently.’ He joked, offering out his hand to you as you pulled your jacket on.

‘That’s bad for a Jedi.’ You joked, taking it.

‘I correct myself.’ He paused for a moment, shaking his head. ‘I’m easily distracted by you.’

‘Right, I have a tendency to do that.’ You replied. ‘I bet my mother didn’t tell you that I was so breathtaking.’

‘Actually, she told me I had a mission.’ He replied. 

The cold night air hit you as you exited the diner. You could hear the buzz of the city traffic further uptown, filling the silence as you pondered his statement for a moment. Your mother worked as an admin assistant for the Jedi temple - she organised transport and missions and the logistics of most their operations - and she had a tendency to spill embarrassing things about you in conversation.

‘A mission?’ You grimaced. ‘What did she tell you it was?’

‘To investigate that very diner we were just sat in.’ Obi-Wan smiled down at you, face lit up under the lights of a theatre as you walked past. ‘She only told me before I left the temple that it was a blind date.’

‘Maker, that woman.’ You muttered. 

‘I’m not complaining, though.’ He quickly replied. He let go of your hand, moving to fling his arms across your shoulders and pull him closer towards him. ‘I was a bit worried that you were going to be...’

‘...like her?’ You nudged him in the ribs slightly. ‘Because that’s something I worry about too every time I get a bit older.’

‘Oh, you have nothing to worry about.’ Obi-Wan said. ‘You have her nose but I’d say that’s it.’

--

A few more hours passed, and you found yourselves having walked all the way to the other side of the city. You were latched onto his side now, one arm around his waist whilst his rested on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against the cold of the night air was a wonderful contrast and you couldn’t help but smile at how at home you felt. He had a very calming presence (probably something to do with the whole Jedi debacle). 

‘Let’s sit down.’ You wrapped your hand around his wrist, tugging him over to a low-sitting wall. 

You were on the edge of Coruscant, a few miles away from the city centre. The lights of the vast skyline illuminated the road in front of you, the whites and blues and red of the mammoth buildings blurring into a technicolour dream. You sometimes forgot how wonderful the place was, especially when you spent so much time observing corrupt politics and dodgy dealings at your job. That wasn’t on your mind, however - Obi-Wan Kenobi was at the forefront of your thoughts. 

‘You’re cold.’ He commented.

‘I’m always cold.’ You shot back. ‘Isn’t that something you can tell through the Force?’

‘Oh, my dear.’ Obi-Wan chuckled. ‘The Force doesn’t work like that.’

‘So, it’s not like mind-reading and magic tricks?’ You shuffled slightly in your seat, turning so that you were facing him. 

‘I definitely can’t read your mind.’

‘That’s a shame. It would make this whole dating thing much easier.’ You quipped.

‘You could just tell me what you’re thinking.’ He reasoned.

You paused for a moment - you were thinking about kissing him, obviously. There had been several moments through out the night where you almost had, but it hadn’t felt like the right time. But here? Basking under the glow of the city lights, sat so close to him? You’d be damned if there was a better chance than this. 

Obi-Wan met you halfway, your lips brushing against his. Like him, they were soft and warm, and you felt yourself leaning further into him. One of his arms wound around your waist, making an attempt to pull you close, though such a thing were possible. Meanwhile, you had one hand on the back of his neck, softly playing with the hair that fell onto your hand. 

There was a gust of wind, and you suddenly jumped back with surprise. He laughed at your reaction, dropping his head into your shoulder as his body shook against yours. 

‘So,’ you began. ‘Second date?’

‘I don’t think we’re done with this one.’

(Within the year, your mother finally had bragging rights about the fact it was her child getting married this time). 

there’ll probably be a part 2 to this i won’t lie to u i’ve already got it written in my head 

also shout to @karasong​ and @drinksomecoco​ for ur encouragement/ideas ily guys 

[fremedon]

Brickclub I.5.13, “Resolving Some Questions of Municipal Policing”

“Curiosity is a form of gluttony," Hugo says, of the onlookers trying to peer through the station house door. "To see is to devour."

This is the most direct statement of a theme Hugo comes back to over and over--the destructive power of gossip and idle curiosity. It's a theme that pulls a lot of weight, but starting on this reread so soon after my last one, one thing I'm wondering is how much that theme is supposed to be setting us up to excuse Marius's lack of inquiry into the version of his history Valjean shares.

Observations on Fantine:

--Fantine, a panther during the fight, now cowers "like a frightened dog" in the station. I think the panther line might be the only feline metaphor Fantine gets. 

--"She would have softened a heart of granite, but you cannot soften a heart of wood." Fantine has been turning herself to stone for the last few chapters, but there are worse things to be.

--And one of those is to become even stonier. In her last monologue, right before she attempts to leave: "Oh! I won't do it again, Monsieur Javert! Whatever anyone does to me now, I won't react in any way." 

--Fantine's two long monologues keep coming back to two points: The injustice of prison wages, both to the prisoners and their competitors, and her ability to be respectable when given the means to support herself. She used to have so many changes of underwear, and now she just has one silk dress for the evenings. She still owes 100 francs to the Thenardiers, but she's up to date on her rent now, just ask her landlord. And at the end, Madeleine agrees with this: "I will give you all the money you need. You shall again become honest in again becoming happy." 

We've seen, and will continue to see, how the lack of means bars access to 'honesty'/respectability, but the reverse of that statement is surprisingly hopeful: only provide the means to live honestly, and a person will be honest. 

--Madeleine and Javert's battle for Fantine's liberty is framed almost exactly like the battle for Valjean's soul between his convict self and the bishop in "Petit-Gervais," and Fantine's heart softening back to trust is a much more direct parallel of Valjean's change of heart than I had realized. Valjean never manages to reach Javert this way, but he does pull Fantine back to humanity for her final weeks.

There is one major difference, though, and it’s not actually in the level of their transgressions. Fantine has spit in the face of the mayor in the place of his power; Valjean has stolen a sentimental treasure from his host, in the home where he was given shelter. Both insults are a thing that can be absorbed or shrugged off, practically, but with immense symbolic weight behind them. 

But Valjean’s reverie ends with him obliterating the convict within him and letting the bishop take full possession of his soul. Fantine keeps hers. She doesn’t have to go through any of Valjean’s extreme self-abnegation to get her humanity back. 

And speaking of extreme self-abnegation, there’s Javert. This got long. 

Javert, despite being wood and not stone, is the one who gets the statue imagery in this scene. From the moment right before he stops Fantine from leaving, after Madeleine instructs that she be freed: "Up to that moment Javert had stood stock still, staring at the ground, out of place in the midst of this scene like some statue left in the way, waiting to be put somewhere." I am reminded of the cart in Montfermeil--the broken cart that is a metaphor for outmoded institutions, left in the way to finish decaying. Javert, the automaton of the law, is left in the way, waiting for a purpose.  

Twice in this scene, we see him imagine himself an empty vessel for the law. It’s the only kind of grandiosity he ever has--humbleness to the point of self-obliteration, so he can embody The Law. 

The first is while he is first handing down Fantine’s sentence, and I’m going to quote at length: 

"It was one of those moments in which he exercised without restraint, but with all the scruples of a strict conscience, his formidable discretionary power. At this moment he felt that his policeman's stool was a bench of justice. He was conducting a trial. He was trying and condemning. He called all the ideas of which his mind was capable around the grand thing that he was doing. The more he examined the conduct of this girl, the more he revolted at it. It was clear that he had seen a crime committed. He had seen, there in the street, society, represented by a property holder and an elector, insulted and attacked by a creature who was an outlaw and an outcast. A prostitute had assaulted a citizen. He, Javert, had seen that himself. He wrote in silence." (Wilbour)

And the second is after Madeleine intervenes to demand Fantine’s liberty a second time: 

"It was obvious that Javert must have been 'thrown out of kilter,' as they say, to allow himself to address the sergeant the way he did after the mayor's request that Fantine should be set free. Could he have forgotten monsieur le maire's presence? Had he in the end convinced himself it was impossible that any authority could have given such an order, and that surely monsieur le maire must have said one thing instead of another without meaning to? Or in view of the outrages he had witnessed over the past two hours, did he tell himself it was necessary to act with the utmost resolve, that the humble must assume greatness, the sleuth must turn himself into a judge, the police agent must become an agent of justice, and that in this exceptional extremity he, Javert, was the personification of law, order, morality, government, the whole of society?" (Donougher)

Hoooo boy. There is just so much to unpack here, and I’m glad we have another year and change of brickclub to keep unpacking it. 

Just on the surface: Law, order, morality, government, and society are all the same thing to Javert. The purpose of law is to uphold the social order. It is a contradiction in terms that authority should seek to undermine itself: 

"Javert felt he was about to go mad. At that moment he underwent in rapid succession and almost all at once the most violent emotions he had ever experienced in his life. To see a common prostitute spit in the face of a mayor--this was something so monstrous that in his most dreadful imaginings he would have regarded it as sacrilege to believe it were possible. On the other hand, obscurely, at the back of his mind, he made a hideous comparison between what this woman was and what this mayor might be, and then he had an inkling of something very simple about this extraordinary attack that appalled him. But when he saw this mayor, this magistrate, calmly wipe his face and say, 'Set this woman free,' he was stunned, thoughts and words failed him equally. His capacity for astonishment was exceeded. He remained speechless." (Donougher)

Refusing to punish this transgression against established hierarchies undercuts Madeleine’s legitimacy in his head so much that he takes it upon himself to contradict the mayor, to argue with him, to put forward his abstract embodied Authority as more valid than the mayor’s actual authority. Madeleine only wins by literally citing the legal code, in a scene that reads almost like a battle between wizards. 

Going back to Fantine’s attempted departure--"The sound of the latch roused him. He raised his head with an expression of supreme authority, an expression that is always the more frightening the lower the level at which power is invested, ferocious in the wild beast, atrocious in the man of no account." Wilbour says "in the undeveloped man"; I prefer Donougher here, because it gets the ambiguity in "the lower the level at which power is invested"--both that power is frightening in the hands of beings who cannot, personally, wield it well,  but also that small concentrations of unaccountable power create petty tyrannies. 

Javert knows he is a small man who, on his own merits, neither possesses nor deserves power over others. But he is a small man channeling the whole of social authority, and that makes him terrifying. 

If what he were channeling was actually Justice, it would also make him--well, it would make him Enjolras. But it’s not. I talked a couple of chapters ago about the themes I’m starting to think of as Hugo’s major arcana, and one of the big ones is Fatalite. He brings it up in the very first sentence of the prologue: 

“So long as there shall exists, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the face of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates with human fatalite a destiny that is divine...”  

The divine destiny--the intention of Providence--seems to be whatever humanity is capable of achieving. Fatalite is whatever human-made factors interfere with that achievement: Social condemnation. Custom. And Law. It’s all fatalite.  

The more Javert imagines himself an empty vessel for the law, the more self-abnegating he is in his duty, the worse he is, because what he is channeling is the force that creates hells on earth. 

He has lost this purity in Paris, and to some extent that accompanies real tolerance of corruption--this Javert would have resigned rather than serve with men he knows are taking bribes and enabling double agents like Le Cabuc. But this Javert would also never have casually granted Bigrenaille's request for tobacco in solitary. And I’m not sure this Javert would have noticed the grievances in his suicide memo--certainly, he doesn’t respond at all to Fantine’s repeated refrain about the prison wages. 

I really like @everyonewasabird's idea that Javert, in frightening Fantine to death--in taking an innocent life, one he has no claim over--Javert will break a geas. He loses the ability to be this empty vessel, and is muddling through on his own instincts and prejudices after that--and his own instincts and prejudices are terrible, make no mistake. But they’re malleable, in a way that the whole force of abstract social condemnation isn’t.

And also, god, now I’m thinking about Valjean standing there listening to Fantine talk about the unfairness of prison wages. What must be going through his head.  

[welanabananaworld]

Ouija, Origin of Evil and the profane voice - Part I

Though extremely shocking and disturbing, children happen to be at the core of major horror films. Samara in The Ring (2002), Dalton in Insidious (2010), Dany and the Grady twins in The Shining (1980), the children in Sinister (2012), Thomas in The Orphanage (2007) are among many other examples that prove the existence of an entire branch of horror cinema built on the mythology of the malevolent child. Why is the figure of the child so prevalent? Why should the most innocent and purest human beings be the main characters of films that are  gruesome, violent and whose public age is strictly restricted? Precisely because their vulnerability and purity of soul make them easily influenced and manipulated by external forces. Besides, children are known to have an overwhelming imagination and a propensity to trust which are necessary to open the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead in accordance with the codes of the genre. 

In addition to this, the more the prey is opposite to our expectations and subverts our beliefs of what is proper and what is not, the more the fright and fascination are potent. To consider a child as a monster, a killer or a possessed body is beyond our general understanding, hence the uncanny appeal of creepy children. 

As pointed out by Alison Nastasi in her article published online on Hopes&Fears, this devious appeal for corrupted and murderous children portrayed in horror films might echo to « real-world fears about parenting, gender and social responsibility. »; a theory supported by Joe Dante’s comments about the subject : « Could it be connected to the fact that more and more parents have difficulty balancing work responsibilities [and] child-rearing (not to speak of nurturing their own relationships, personal and career aspirations) and are squeezed financially by the costs of raising children […]? Therefore, is it any wonder that children in genre movies are portrayed as powerful, disruptive, and uncontrollable? Perhaps these menacing moppet movies reflect the fears inherent in helicopter parenting—that the minute you take your eyes off your child, something dreadful will happen. » In any case, the films in question use the creepy kid trope in order to suggest that something is wrong, that the natural order of things is being shattered. 

The corruption of innocence can take many forms but the most interesting one to study in relation to the narrative role of the voice in cinema is the threat of an invasion from the Beyond. In Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016), supernatural forces hold a young girl hostage by inhabiting her body and making it go through such transformations (vocal and physical) as to change it beyond recognition.

Taking place in 1967 in Los Angeles, Ouija: Origin of Evil tells the story of the Danzer family. Alice, a spiritual medium, is striving to make ends meet after the loss of her husband and father of her two children by hosting readings in her own house with the help of her daughters, Lina (15) and Doris (9). Running a declining scam business, in which Alice pretends to talk to the dead to bring closure to people and the girls help her out with tricks intended to make it all real, Lina suggests her mother to add a ouija board as a new prop to modernise her readings. The factitious dimension of the ritual which unfolds through the display of ingenious devices (stretchable table, a cupboard big enough to hide Doris, extinguishable candles…) is both an ironical comment on how fake spiritism is going to beat the family at their own game by revealing its true power and also a cleverly designed introduction to set the tone and build the tension. 

All the ingredients are here to turn the ouija experience into a nightmare. The bereaved family is craving for a contact whatsoever with their loved one, little Doris first. She wishes she could talk to her father at a seance like other people do when they come and see her mother for help, that is why she does not talk to god directly but instead send prayers to her dad every night before going to bed. Contrary to Lina who is a teenager in complete denial and pushes down her feelings, Alice and Doris seek communication and are open to it, hence the evil befalling on them. 

Portrayed as an angelic but lonely and bullied girl who is deeply grieving her father and believes in the blurry frontiers between the worlds of the living and the dead, Doris becomes the perfect human and tangible vessel through which supernatural forces can express themselves. All starts with the introduction of the ouija board as a prop into the house and with Alice breaking the three rules which are to never play alone, in a graveyard and never forget to say goodbye. At this very moment, Doris becomes inhabited by Marcus’s spirit whose identity is yet to be defined. How does this possession first transpire? Through speaking. Marcus uses Doris’s voice to start materializing and, as soon as she touches the board, the voices appear all around her, thus enabling the world of the Beyond to let in. 

Doris is progressively attracted by the ouija board which makes her believe she is talking to her father, Roger. They are deceitful spirits who do everything to earn her trust to better trap her, hence the hint at the money buried in the cellar. Contrary to Lina who is far from being fooled, Alice thinks her youngest child is gifted and asks her for help. As the readings follow one another, the trap is closing in around Doris who starts feeling pain in her neck at the same time she excels in the occult. She can now reproduce the voice of the deceased summoned during the seance. 

Once she is fully possessed, Doris first goes through a radical physical and behavior transformation by becoming lethargic, stolid, her eyes often turned white when no one is watching her. Besides, her vocal abilities also go through creepy changes. In addition to mimic the deceased’s voice during the readings, adults’ voices, Doris keeps whispering in people’s ears in a demonic way when the evil entity starts spreading its malevolent influence on the whole family. 

When the film reaches its climax and Doris fully assumes the devil’s voice, which is guttural, otherworldly and distorted by hatred, she no longer is a young innocent child. Marcus’s spirit corrupts and perverts Doris to achieve revenge by desecrating her body and soul and making her utter bloodcurdling things. The scene which most epitomizes the figure of the violated child is when Doris explains step by step to Lina’s boyfriend how it feels like to be strangled to death. The most uncomfortable thing about it is to witness the contrast between what she says and the sweet voice in which she says it with an angelic smile on her face. The mise-en-scène that keeps stressing Doris’s vocal changes, by shooting her facing the camera (or the fourth wall) as if she was already part of the Beyond, is meant to emphasize the element through which she is channelling these powers and forces : the mouth.

The mouth as an organic element  stands as a kind of leitmotiv throughout the film inasmuch as the possession of Doris’s body and soul by the demonic entity is made complete through that means. One night, Doris is awakened by her pain in the neck and gets assaulted by a dark creature who thrusts his devilish arm into her throat. This shadowy creature, one can notice, has no mouth or rather a distorted sewed one, similar to Lina’s mouth when she looks at herself in the mirror one night. At the light of these elements, what was supposed to be a nightmare was in fact real and prophetic.

But what can be the meaning of the recurring imagery of the sealed mouth (see  also Lina’s doll)? Who is Marcus? Why is he portrayed as an evil spirit? What does he want from Doris and her family? He clearly states his purpose when trying to possess Lina’s soul : to snatch her voice.

Father Tom Hogan, a friend of the family, is the one who uncovers the ugly truth behind Doris’s pretended benevolent gift of clairvoyance. She is not channelling good forces but Marcus’s spirit, a man who happened to have been mutilated and murdered in this house a few decades ago. After the second world war, a twisted nazi doctor, called the devil’s doctor in the camps, escaped to America where he succeeded to get hired in a mental institution. He went on practicing his sadistic experiments on patients in the basement of his house. In order to do it, he cut out their tongues, severed their vocal cords and sewed their mouths so that no one could hear them from above. However, Marcus’s story does not end with his death. Violently murdered, he never rested in peace but instead was doomed to wander in the cold darkness of the underworld among other desperate, voiceless souls and malevolent creatures who must have been summoned by the doctor who was into the occult. 

In the end, Marcus, who has been silenced by force, deprived of his own voice and overtaken by the surrounding evil influence in the Beyond, seeks revenge against god and people who have the ability to express themselves, eaten away as he is by hatred, frustration and pain. The only way for him to exorcise the horrible things he has been through is to communicate and hurt others, but for that a voice and a body are needed, hence his attempts to snatch the family’s voices. That is the only way to be heard and to have an influence outside his doomed world. Helped by her father’s good spirit, Lina grabs needle and thread and silences her sister for ever,  thus fighting hard against the entity who strives to engulf her.

Ouija, Origin of Evil, like many other horror films, uses the voice and its communicative powers as narrative tools to address issues and challenge notions such as grief, loss, family unity, parenting, revenge, alternative beliefs, suffering, innocence, corruption, violation and religion. Religion…such a crucial theme whose set of practices and beliefs makes it the most cherished subject of the genre. Any idea which emblematic film is yet to be analyzed in the perspective of the profane voice and corruption of innocence?

[dumbwaystodeviate]

Could you do a reed900 where Nines’s deviation is slow and gradual, with a lot of “software instability ^^^” Essentially, his first software instability happens when he notices just how small Gavin is compared to him and thinks ‘cute’. Software instibilies keep piling up with each cute thing Gavin does (example: kitten-like sneezes, can’t reach a high shelf and needs help, blushing like the damn tsundere he is). Stuff like that. He ends up deviating so he can kiss Gavin. Fluff please :3!

Nines assignment to Gavin had started fairly rough, the man was a fireball with a bit of a temper and a great distaste for the fact that Nines had been made his partner. Thankfully due to Androids getting their own freedoms and the harsh glare Fowler gave him he accepted this with a gruff ‘whatever’ and went about his day, regardless if the RK had followed him or not.

The android, for the most part, had kept a distance from the man to keep from irritating him too much, a suggestion given to him by Connor after the two’s last confrontation. Still, as work partners he couldn’t keep his distance too long, needing to converse and look over evidence as Gavin went though the tablet he had been meandering with while out at a scene.

It was the first time Nines had been as close as he was to the man, almost looming over him to look at what Gavin was pointing out on the screen. It was when the detective started talking with his hands that Nines finally looked down at him. He followed for half a second before he took in the sight. While Gavin wasn’t short, average really, he looked so small in front of him. Perhaps it was just that the RK himself was built big but that didn’t change much of his perspective. He could so easily pick the man up if he had a want to, look over his shoulder or even his head to see if needed. 

His staring and looming didn’t go unoticed, snapping back to the case the second the man spun around.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?! Fucking hell, back up a step. Shit that’s creepy.” The RK nodded, though hesitated on stepping back for half a second.

“Sorry, detective. I was just looking at what you were pointing out.” He really hadn’t meant to be overbearing.

Huffing, Gavin went back to talking though this time kept facing Nines, clearly not letting him get behind him again. 

By human definitions, small things were considered ‘cute’. And to him Gavin was small. So that meant he was cute. A flicker of software instability ^ lit up his hud as a note of ‘cute’ was pinned to Gavin’s profile, Nines believed it was a correct assessment. Such a strange thought to have during an investigation, though he doubted that the man would take very kindly to this observation. But he had already noticed and it was a thought that presented itself every time he stood near the man, causing a warning every time he got too close. He would scan the warnings later that night.

Nines hadn’t put much thought into this note, nor the software warning, until a few days later when it happened again.

Doing what he always did when the detective wandered off for a break he followed, keeping with his predecessor’s trend of not staying put. Gavin had muttered a complaint of ‘lost puppy’ once, but after the first few tries had stopped trying to get him to stay at his desk. Some things just couldn’t be removed from the Rk’s programming it seemed.

Letting Gavin and Tina have their space to converse, Nines loitered around the counters until his partner was ready to get back to work. The talking had only lasted a few moments before the man moved to make himself a coffee. The conversation lulled as Nines watched him look for a cup, checking the counters before looking up to the ones above. A grimace marred his face as he opened the door, noticing there were in fact cups but with a dawning irritation that he wouldn’t quite reach them.

Nines watched as he jumped a bit, fingers barely touching the surface of his goal and muttering curses.

“WHY in the fucking hell did they put them all up there!? They don’t need to be there!” The RK could hear Tina giggling at him, causing him to curse again.

He gave him a few moments to keep trying, wondering quietly to himself how this human had been getting his coffee this whole time. It pinged another warning of instabilities, another note tacking to his to-do list simply stating ‘keep things in reach’.

Seeing as he wasn’t getting anywhere in getting what he wanted, Nines decided it would be best to help Gavin. Taking a few strides to stand by him, he easily managed to get the cup and hand it over to the detective. So close to the man again he could see how he might have trouble getting up there. He could tell Gavin was fustrated at needing the help as he snatched the cup, red burning from his cheeks to his neck, Nines could only swipe at the man instability warnings he got. Again, his systems prompted the definition of ‘cute’ at him, programming humming in approval and helping him out.

Perhaps he should go to cyberlife for a checkup. Perhaps he should put the cups higher.

As things got colder more and more people got sick, it was almost a given and certainly one in the DPD. It was often enough that they had gotten mostly good at fighting it off, though some still from time to time got it pretty bad and it was hard to keep it from spreading sometimes. Harder still was trying to not catch a cold while out in the snow, trying to find evidence buried below what Gavin had muttered as ‘Cold ass white bullshit’.

“Man, Nines, you better be glad you can’t get sick or feel this shit.” He whined, leaving Nines to wonder how he wasn’t used to it.

“Perhaps you should keep extra jackets in your car for such occasions.” 

Mimicking Nines with a ridiculous mumbling noise, Gavin shook his head and marched onward, the RK taking his time to try and find any disturbances in the snow. It was going to be quite the annoying taste but thankfully he could stay out all day doing this if need be, what mattered was finding clues. 

It was twenty minuets in when Nines heard a squeaking noise, and he stopped to see what could have made the noise. It sounded like an animal, a cat maybe, and if that was the case he needed to find it and make sure it didn’t disturb anything. Though for some reason he couldn’t find any sign of one during his scans even after a second pass.

Perhaps it was just a bird in the distance. Catching back up with Gavin Nines continued his work.

“Alright, I don’t think we are going to be doing much out here like this so lets get back. Tired of freezing my ass off.” Gavin was rubbing his arms at this point, prompting Nines to agree.

But as he was about to tell him so, Gavin sneezed and Nines Led went red. It was that same noise from before, not a bird but his partner sneezing. Nines’ systems informed him that such a noise was called a ‘kitten sneeze’ and as he sneezed again the RK’s instabilities shot though the roof.

“Fuck, there went my chances of not getting sick.” When he got no response, Gavin looked back to Nines. “Whats up with you? Looking like a dead xbox.”

Nines didn’t get it, how could a man that was so crass and temperamental man constantly be ‘cute’ like that? It was starting to dawn on him that the things Gavin did alone were not cute, but he himself was cute. Nines found this small bundle of grump cute. He wanted to tell him so but every red fiber holding him like a tiger told him to be professional, that this action was unreasonable.

Well what if I want to be unreasonable? He thought.

Coming closer, Gavin peered up at him -so small, so wonderfully cute- and tapped his LED with a frown. “Earth to Nines, did you bluescreen or something?”

It was such a cute look on his fact that Nines wanted nothing more than to touch it, his programming buzzing with a want and with a fight to hold him back. He was a android, one that should be better than to get such corruptions. But yet, here he was, banging on a red wall to reach the human that had been causing the impossible in his systems.

It didn’t take a great deal of struggle, with all the advancements he had it made quick work of the red coding holding him back. Gavin had been about to shake him when he blinked away the red in both vision and led, a small smile tugging his lips.

“No, detective. Simply finding new understanding of clues I had found.”

That seemed to calm the man down, crossing his arms for warmth. “Well spit it out, what did you find?”

Leaning down, Nines cupped both of Gavin’s cheeks in his hands and pressed a soft kiss on that pout he liked so much. “My clues have brought me to the conclusion that you are very cute, and that I wanted to kiss you all month.”

Sputtering, Nines got to enjoy the sight of Gavin’s face burning redder than he ever saw before, a muttered “I’m not cute.” quickly stammering out. Nines couldn’t help his grin, for he knew that was a lie.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hiya! Could I possibly request a Jason the Toymaker x Reader where the reader meets Jason through their younger sibling and offers to be Jason's friend to keep their sibling safe but actually ends up liking him? Thank you so much if you choose to accept my request! ❤

Hey! Ahhhh... I literally wrote this over months and months' worth of time, so I think it gets kinda better as you read on? Haha. Still not totally happy with it but I hope you like it!! So sorry for the wait, I had a lotta trouble figuring out how I was gonna spin it😬😆😅

I really, really hope you like it!! ^^ Thank you, it definetly tested by skills, haha XD

~~~

“Oh my god,” I gasp, a sharp, almost painfully deep intake of cold air paired with a high-pitched noise because I get it. I know what he meant last night when he said he would take him. It didn’t mean to his shop, that I see just ahead, looking like it was just plopped down there on the ground like Dorothy’s house. I whip around and start sprinting back down the road the way I came. He meant wherever he came from, or wherever he’s going next.

And I left Noah at home, alone. “FUCK!” I yell, not caring that the Asian couple strolling down the path the opposite way I’m going startled at the expletive. Jason has made it perfectly clear that he’s not playing around. He’s cut him, he’s kept me in a metal box for a day, he’s taken Noah so many times in the past 2 weeks that he’s cursed our goddamn lives that I’ve learnt quickly to always be on high alert. It is always code red with him around, and now… Gritting my teeth, I force my legs against the air and stupid gravity until I get to the front door, which I lunge at so hard my wrists would probably hurt if I could feel anything except freezing, numb dread and even kick the fucking thing before I’m able to unlock it with the key and throw it open so forcefully that the doorknob slams and dents the wall. “Noah?!”

For a second, theirs no noise and I nearly stop breathing.

Then the tiniest, could-have-been-the-walls-creaking kind of muffled sound breaks the silence and that’s all I need. I rush through the house, and it feels like 2 seconds but still way too long before I find them. Of course, in Noah’s bedroom. Immediately a horrible, angry scowl because I’m so fucking scared, crashes across my face like wretched broken glass, seeing Noah held up in Jason’s arms, one covering his soft little mouth. “Put him down.”

“See, Noah? Told you you shouldn’t make any noise, Y/N’s such a killjoy!” Jason says in a light, casual tone as he ruffles Noah’s hair a little too roughly. His gradually brightening green eyes flash up to mine and make it obvious that he feels the exact opposite of relaxed, though. And poor Noah takes this time without Jason’s hand restricting his mouth to ask me to save him. Like he really believes I can, because I’m his older sibling. Jason rolls his eyes and tightens his arm around Noah’s shoulders, holding him against his chest and not even bothering to support him. “You don’t need to be saved, kiddo. It’s a playdate. Hardly a death sentence… “

“Bullshit.” I say, my brain frozen about what to do. I can try to fight him, sure, but that’s not going to go well. And might put Noah in danger. Jason rolls his eyes and pastes on a fake, sniggering look on his lips. “Go find another kid.” I half bed, half demand, not sure which he might spontaneously start to respond too. I’ve tried everything to deter him these past weeks! But he’s just rotten, right down to his core.

“-Don’t you get demanding with me, you bitch!” He snaps back, immediately, black creeping up the skin of his hands and his eyes glowing way brighter then before, telling me he’s reaching his bursting point anger level, and this is becoming as dangerous as it can get. He tries, to calm down though. Flicks the long, sharp fingers on the hand that isn’t holding up Noah… then loosens his grip on my brother momentarily, deliberately so now he’s holding him up by his neck. Forearm against his little throat. I cover my mouth with my hands in shock, watching Noah struggle and strain in vein. My heart starts to beat faster, sensing the end of this, which cannot be good for me or Noah. “… hah.” The monster stretches his neck out, rolling his shoulders. Hair turning a shocking white. “Hate to get pissed like this but you know not to talk to me like that, sunshine.”

… okay. This is the end. The rumours said that when Jason’s true colours come out, that’s when it’s over. Noah and I are not getting away from this.

I don’t have a choice anymore, like I even did in the first place… So stupid. Plan Z.

The funny thing is that now, when I should be the most afraid, I’m absolutely calm. I hold my hands up in surrender, dropping the tension in my shoulders entirely. “Okay, I’m sorry.” At least Noah will be safe. That’s the point. Jason, sensing something new, raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. “I won’t ever disrespect you again.” I love my brother so much. I would’ve done this in a heartbeat in the very beginning, if I hadn’t known that this, giving myself up, would also hurt him. I just… I don’t have any more ideas. If this means Noah will survive and he’ll grow up safe, with the chance to be happy? Then it’s worth it. I step towards them, slowly. “I’ll be kind to you, and I’ll play with you. And I’ll never leave you.” Jason’s second eyebrow meets the first halfway up his forehead. “I’ll be the perfect friend- I mean, what does a kid know about being the perfect best friend anyway? They’ll always make mistakes, Jason, and aren’t you tired of looking?” When I reach them, I swoop down and hook an arm under Noahs butt, holding him up so Jason’s choke hold doesn’t hurt anymore. But I don’t take my eyes off Jason’s, watching the understanding and agreement dance across them, both in horror and relief. It’s working. I’m so afraid, and I’m so glad, that it’s working. “I’ll be your friend instead. Just let Noah stay safe, in his home. And promise you’ll never see him, or have him hurt, ever again.”

“What makes you think you’re in a position to make demands like that?”

“Because I’m giving you what you want. No resistance this time, doesn’t… doesn’t that sound good?”

Please. Please, please, please. That’s all I can think now. Just please.

Please let this work, please let him agree. Please let him let Noah go, please let Noah forget me. Please let him live a long and happy life. I love you Noah, be happy. Please.

Then suddenly Jason’s eyes flash and turn into a brilliant golden colour, his hair goes back to red and the black, corrupted mould that had infected his skin crept down to the tips of his fingers and dappled away. He smiles.

“I’m willing to take that risk! It might work, actually!” Jason lets go of Noah, raising his hands up to either side of his head, in surrender, as I take Noah entirely into my arms and his little arms wrap around my neck. Jason almost looks like a level headed and understanding guy, as he backs off now. I turn Noah’s body away from him, looking reproachfully at the being, whatever he is.

“D-… deal then.” I state, offering a hand to Jason to shake. “Noah lives a happy life, not any longer or shorter than it was meant to be.”

Jason jumps, making me jolt in surprise and encloses his hand around mine, shaking enthusiastically- but I can see the evil glint still in his eyes and in his smirk. “’Course! You’re gonna love it Y/N, I promise. I knew you had a little something better in you, less moody and not a stick in the mud. In fact! I’m so on board, have a couple minutes alone with Noah. I’ll just be in the hall.”

With that he lets go of my hand, but his presence stays with me even once he’s gone out and into the hall. Like when you’re in the hospital, or at school, and your parent is outside the door while the doctor or the teacher sees you privately. Except, much, scarier. My stomach’s full of dread.

Finally I turn to Noah and see someone safe and I know I did the right thing. Still, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I have to go. “Okay little bro. Mum and Dad’ll be home later tonight.” I start, setting him down on his bed and leaning down to him instead of looking down at him. His eyes are wide, and full of fear. And I force myself to look at them because it’ll be the last time. Oh god, it hurts. Tearing my gaze away for a moment, I point to the clock. “When the little hand touches the 5 and the big hand touches the 12- that’s when they should be home. If not, make sure all the doors are locked-actually, as soon as I leave, make sure they’re locked, -, turn on the TV, get comfy on the couch and make some two minute noodles. Here’s my phone; Call them if you want, whenever. Keep it charged. Remember to get the police, the doctors, or the firemen then you need to call 000/911/ (Insert your countries emergency phone number). Our address is on the fridge, they’ll be patient with you so please don’t worry about that. Ummm… “I try to say everything calmly, and clearly so he understands but now my voice is starting to tremble because he’s started to cry. “I love you so, so much Noah. Please remember that I will be okay, you don’t need to worry. I’ll miss you, and I wish I could be with you but this is for the best, okay? This is not your fault, I love you. Be happy when you can, okay?” I lean in and give him the tightest hug ever, then pull back and let him go for the last time.

Finally, I blow him a kiss and leave the room.

___TIME SKIP: 3 Years___

Slowly joining the conscious world again, I feel hard floor under my shoulder blades and groan, remembering where I fell asleep. Stupid Jason making me play trains until we fell asleep- not to say it wasn’t fun, but couldn’t we have situated some pillows under me or something? Opening my eyes, I turn my head on the floor and see the monster himself.

Red hair a mess of streaks and rivers around his head and over his forehead, he’s fallen asleep on his back too, the trains still between us. Groaning again, I pull myself up from the floor into a sitting position and roll my shoulders back to relieve the stiffness. “Shhh, I’m still sleeping.”

“Time to get up now, its like lunchtime.” Smirking, I slowly stretch my arms forward, linking my fingers together as I do so. He’s an idiot.

“I disagree.”

“Are we gonna do this?”

“Me disagreeing?”

“Yes.”

He rolls over onto his side, sticking his hands under his head as if they could ever match the comfort of a pillow. “Then yes.” I roll my eyes at him, getting up and hobbling to my room.

A couple hours later, I’ve taken a 45 minute shower and warmed up my joints again and am just flipping through Pinterest in my room, when Jason finally decides to join the land of the living- slamming the door open suddenly so hard that wall behind it cracks open. “Goodmorning Y/N!”

“Its 3pm.”

“Time is a construct!” He rounds the room, stops by me as I sit calmly on my bed with my iPad on my legs, then leans down with his arms folded behind his back. His grin is wicked. “Anyway, we have places to be- Let’s go!” With his usual level of rudeness and eccentricity, he grabs my wrists and flies off out of the house.

With me just managing to not have my arm ripped off.

When I actually have our pace under control and not in danger of losing one of my most important limbs, I look around and the street that we’re on is… unnervingly familiar. I know exactly where we are, immediately.

I nearly stop dead in my tracks when the street I used to live on comes into view. “Where are we going? Jason? Jason! Where!” We’re getting closer, and I’m starting to panic. “Are! We! Going!? Where are we-”

“If you would stop asking that same question over and over, I would tell you!” He snaps, causing me to shrink back and stop trying to wrench my wrist out of his grip. Okay, point taken grumpy gills. “We’re going to check on Noah.”

Immediately blind, horrendous panic spreads to every little crevasse in me. I think the worst and I try even harder to get away; Yanking my arm so hard that Jason’s yoinked back a few whole feet. “No! You promised; We had a deal!”

He growls down at me through his teeth after quickly recovering from the shock of being yanked back. “Come on, you’ll see.”

“No!” I don’t know anything else to say but no. Nothing else that comes to mind properly describes how I’m thinking and feeling. I just want him to know, NO! No, we can’t go see Noah, no he can’t hurt him, so no. No, no, no!

He keeps on dragging me, all down the street and past my old house which I don’t care to even glance at, to a skatepark. When we stop under the shade of a tree, in the park right by the skating area where surely no one who’s skating will glance over and see us with any clarity, Jason looks over at my terrified expression and tilts his head. He looks strained. “Now, are you going to behave and let us have a looky-loo, or am I going to have to keep holding your hand, like a baby?”

I just feel stuck, and shaking. All that comes out of my mouth is a shaky, squeaky, as I’m sure I like a terrified baby bird. “No.”

He nods his head side to side for a moment and let’s go of me, crossing his arms over chest instead. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” He rolls his eyes. “Now look over at the skaters, one of them will be familiar.”

I look over, and immediately search the helmet wearing boys for Noah. I search the face of every sweaty, lanky boy here but goddamnit, its hard! They’re all zooming all over the place, I can barely search their features. Its hard enough, since I haven’t seen Noah for 3 years!

“I… I don’t see him.” I force out, still in the squeaky, strained voice from before.

Jason’s strong hand finds my head, and turns it like a peanut butter lid carefully to the left. I keep looking immediately forward, until-

I find him.

Or, her, now.

I look at those eyes, the same as mine, and I know that the girl at the top of the curve with a Marvin the Martian skateboard is my sibling. She’s safe, and she’s smiling, and a lump grows in my throat as I watch her for whole minutes without blinking.

Slowly, I raise my hands to my mouth, tears clouding my vision so much that all Noah is, is a bright pink helmet flying all over the place. I wipe my eyes quickly, turning to look up at Jason. He’s watching Noah, or whatever her name is now, and looks bored of course. He’s never happy when he isn’t doing what he wants.  

But he came here. He brought me here. He did this for me, even though he’s bored.

All the love and the happiness I feel about him comes rushing at me all at once. These past few years were hard, yes. Absolutely yes, it’s a nuclear yes to that, but Jason has also been… an oddly wonderful friend. The way we got here was wrong, and it will always be wrong because of that and I’m never going to think otherwise, but -and this is not even really a ‘but’, because nothing will ever make what he did to me and to Noah even the slightest bit okay. It’s just a… its other feelings. Unrelated feelings that overlap the hatred and the fear, that sometimes, a lot of the time, stand out more, - there has been a certain overwhelming magic about my new life with him.

My eyes fill up with tears instantly, all over again. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, okay, great. Whatever. Can we go somewhere better, now?”

“Just a little longer?”

“I’m gonna go make a daisy chain for you.”

[brokecollegenerd]

A Convenient Dare

Paring: Hongjoong x fem reader

Genre: University au but in a bar and it’s funny (I think)

Warning: It takes place in a bar, also kissing and slight mentions of sexual stuff

A/N: This took longer than I thought (I thought I’d have it done in two days, but it actually took me four days) I appraciate any form of feedback, so feel free to comment. @abangtanfangirl​ I finally finished it

“Come on now darling, admit it. You like me.” You were so done with this bloke. This was the last time you’d hang out with your brother’s “friends”. Jongho, your brother, was young and had just entered University, so he was going around trying to find the type of people he wanted to spend his time with. Unfortunately, the current batch of people he was hanging out with weren’t to your liking. Jongho was a very strong person, so all the college frat boys had decided to make him one of their own. They hadn’t corrupted him yet, but you made it your mission to keep that from ever happening. It also helped, or maybe didn’t, that you both were attending the same college, so you could be his safety buddy whenever he went out with them. A sort of safety net to make sure he didn’t end up drunk in some random persons home. (That almost happened once. If he hadn’t called you drunk asking you to be his drive home you don’t know what would have happened to him.) That was how you ended up in this situation. He had called you earlier that day telling you that he and his friends were heading to the local bar to have a few drinks. Worried, you asked Jongho if you could tag along as his buddy and he had told you yes. Thus, you were now in the local bar with far to many frat boys, a drunk brother (who for some reason was breaking apples with his hands and singing at the top of his lungs cause the guys had asked him to) and one frat that was trying to hard to get you in bed.

“For the last time, you are the last person I could ever like.” You took a swig of your beer hoping he’d finally get the message and leave you alone. Tonight was definitely not your night.

“Now baby,” the guy slurred, “you have to at least admit that you find me attractive. I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t.” He was far to close in your space, leaning on the bar toward you. It didn’t help that some of the other guys were edging him on. One drunk frat was easy enough to deal with but a handful, that was a headache.

“Well then, you definitely haven’t been hanging out with the right people.” you said, your voice dripping with acid. Couldn’t this guy take a hint. Sure, he wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t that good looking. Definitely good looking enough to get people in bed but not enough to overcome that of his attitude.

“Fine then,” the guy said, “I dare you to find someone hotter than me. While your at it, give him a kiss and get him to go on a date with you.”

“I accept your challenge.” you said with great determination, anything to get this guy to leave you alone. Laughs left the group of guys surrounding you. They seemed to think you wouldn’t be able to find a guy, you couldn’t wait to prove them wrong. Taking this opportunity, you got off the barstool and took a look around the bar. Since this was a University town, most of the people your age in the bar were from your University. However, you noticed that most of the guys in the bar were either part of the frat group or a part of a friend group just hanging out, not many single hot men apparently. Then you saw him, he was sitting at the end of the bar in a blue button-up, black jeans, and were those suspenders? A small chuckle left you, he was someone you had always found attractive and maybe even someone you wanted to ask you out. It also helped that you were pretty sure that frat wouldn’t like him as your choice, so double win. Without a second thought you made your way over to him. “Hey, Hongjoong.” you called out. Hongjoong turned his head upon hearing his name.

“Oh, Y/N, how are you?” he asked. A smile came to his face that was brighter than his red hair. You definitely made the right choice.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You responded

“Tell you to stop? What do you mean…” He never got to finish his question, cause you had grabbed his face and attached your lips to his. At first Hongjoong didn’t do anything, to much in shock at this sudden turn of events. However, this didn’t last long before he returned the kiss, increasing it as he did. Time seem not to exist between the two of you. With each passing second the kiss grew in passion. Soon Hongjoong was using his tongue to play with your mouth and you had your hands buried in his hair. (Something you’ve always wanted to do.) Next thing you knew, you were sitting in his lap with your hands on his shirt, which he apparently hadn’t buttoned up all the way. This boy would be the death of you, and this kiss was definitely confirmation of it. Lips devouring each other with passion and haste, almost as if this was a dream and it would end soon. Hands traveling over each other, trying to memorize what they had only seen before. It was enchanting and filled with so many growing emotions: passion, lust, curiosity, connection, and a growing sense of love. You both broke apart when the need for air could no longer be ignored. Hongjoong eyes were wide and filled with so many questions, but there was a sense of hope and excitement under those questions.

“If you think for a second that I want you to stop then you’re so wrong.” Hongjoong said, a smile on his face. This caused you to smile and move your hands to cup his face.

“Good, cause I was going to ask you if you’ll go out with me? Yah see, this asshole over there,” you motioned with your head toward the direction the guy had been in, “was all like ‘I bet you can’t find a guy hotter than me’ and to prove him wrong, I had to kiss a guy who’s hotter than him. While also getting this guy to go on a date with me. So, I was super lucky and saw the hottest guy on campus was here. Plus, this gave me an opportunity to do what I should have done weeks ago.”

Hongjoong pouted, “No fair, I’ve been planning on asking you out for weeks now.”

“Really?” you asked shocked.

“Why do you think I keep trying to talk to you after audio and visual?” he asked. Hongjoong had a point, he had been trying of late to make you stay after class and talk. You both were taking audio and visual production together, you for your communications major, and him as an elective for his music production major. That’s how you knew each other, you had both sat next to each other on the first day and ever since then your friendship had grown.

“So that’s a yes then?” you asked with a smile on your face. Hongjoong grabbed your chin and brought it closer to his face.

“I say it is.” He started to lean in again for another kiss. Unfortunately, the happy moment didn’t last long.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” That stupid guy really was the worse. You turned your head to look over and saw all the frat boys looking at the two of you, completely baffled. “This guy? Isn’t he some kind of music major? What kind of person does that?” You almost felt bad for the lad, he looked so confused. He probably never had someone pass him over before, that gave you a strange sense of pride for being the first.

“Apparently, the hot guys do.” A smirk graced your face as you responded. You could feel Hongjoong’s hands move from the small of your back towards your hips, where his grip on you tightened.

“Now then, if you don’t mind, me and my new boyfriend shall be on our way.” You looked back to Hongjoong, “You don’t mind me calling you that?”

“Of course not baby.” he responded giving you a quick peck. Giddiness swept over you at this gesture, and you couldn’t stop the small giggle that came out. Ignoring the other people, you climbed out of Hongjoong’s lap.

“If you’ll walk out with me I have to find my brother and then we can go.” you said while giving his hand a squeeze

“Alrighty baby, I’ll just paid for our tabs.” You started to argue, but Hongjoong had already called the bartender over. Sighing, you shook your head and head off to find Jongho. Jongho wasn’t too hard to find, you merely had to find the slightly drink boy singing and that was it. You managed to tell him that he’d had enough for the night, and that it was time to head home. You and Jongho met up with Hongjoong outside the bar and to say your brother was confused was an understatement.

“Who’s this?” Jonho asked seeing Hongjoong.

“Ah, this is Hongjoong. He’s my friend from my audio and visual class.” you answered him.

“Oh, so hot music major.” Johngo said with realization dawning on his face. Before you could stop yourself, you had slap his arm in frustration. That was a giant sibling code break if you ever saw one. Hongjoong found this very funny and started laughing way to hard. You started pouting at Hongjoong, which apparently didn’t help. Hongjoong stopped his laughing and reached his hand out to Jongho.

“Hi, I’m hot music major but you can call me Hongjoong.” he said side-eying you. Jongho, never one to miss an opportunity to tease you went along with him.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet the guy my sister hasn’t stop telling me about since the year started. With the way she talks about you, you’d think that you guys were dating.” He responded laughing. You pout had now turned into a frown. You should have known better than to let these two rascals near each other.

“How convenient, she just asked me out, so we are dating now.”  Hongjoong turned and looked at you with another one of his brilliant smiles. You felt your anger at the situation slowly fade, you could stay mad at him when he smiled at you like that. Jongho didn’t seemed to be shocked at the news.

“It’s about damn time, I was half tempted to go find you and ask you out for her.”

“Alright, that’s enough you scoundrel.” you said to your brother, pushing him away. “Head over to the car, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“No problem, have fun with your hot music major.” Jongho laughed as he ran away from you before you could hit him. That boy would be the death of you. Turning back you saw Hongjoong giving you one of his looks. (You called them his seductive face, he put it on whenever he was about to mess with someone.)

“So, I’m the hot music major?” he moved closer to you.

“Oh, shut up” you responded with a sigh. “Let’s just agree to forget that I called you that.”

“Hmmmm, I don’t know. I kind of like it.” Hongjoong reached out and brushed your cheek.

“But I’d much rather call you by your actually name.” you said outing at him. Your heart was beating fast. You were hoping that he’d kiss you again, you were already addicted to his kisses.

“Fine then, I won’t bring it up. I do have a question for you though.” he seemed to move even closer to you.

“What?” you answered in a whisper.

“Where would you like our date to be?” he asked.

“Wherever you want.” you responded with a small smile.

“Alrighy.” Hongjoong then leaned in and you closed your eyes for the kiss. However, his lips didn’t go to yours, rather he kissed your forehead. You opened your eyes to see Hongjoong with a large smirk on his face. “I’ll see you later than. I have an idea of what we can do, I’ll text you the details.”

Shaking your head at his antics you respond, “Ok then, see you around hot stuff.” before he could respond you gave him a quick peck on the lips and ran off to your car. You could hear Hongjoong’s laughs follow you as you ran away.