#especially death ball and the simulator games

[mbat]

giving up on the hunt event with 77 lol

i could be a weirdo and try to do the last 23 i need in this last 7 hours but im very tired and the ones ive been avoiding are the ones i already know would suck anyway. i only found out about this event with like a week left and i kept doing other things irl anyway

the event is generally very underwhelming and disappointing, nothing about it says easter, not the branding or the colors or almost any of the missions. some of the games kinda got the idea with making you collect eggs or bunnies but they still felt weirdly empty about it, probably because they were clearly just slapped into a pre-existing game and not much else was done.

truly the egg hunts imo peaked at 2017-2018, though i never got to experience the earliest ones so i cant speak on those

most of the games kinda sucked, though some were pretty good. tbh im just glad i had an excuse to play 3008 again, it was the last one i did because i knew id like it lol

am i the only one who sees someone do a bad job on something and it makes you want to do it yourself because you think you could do better, even if you otherwise dont care about the subject? i know i definitely couldnt and yet the urge is still there

i just continue to feel disappointed by roblox these last few years, i only got to experience better days on the website for 4-5 years out of my 13 years, but it sticks out so much more to me because it was better. the moment they removed tix was the beginning of the end, it was such a blatant insult to anyone who isnt willing to pour real money into this game for whatever reasons apply. they couldve tried to change the tix system instead of removing it, if they had to change it at all, but whatever

tl;dr, UGH.

[spontaneousglitterbees]

It's been mentioned that Kokichi has some phantom pains and he has clear mobility issues (love that btw as someone who uses a cane), so I was curious how the rest of the class is doing in that regard. Does Kaito ever struggle to breathe or have coughing fits? Do Rantaro and Angie get migraines?

[Talent Acquisition Pilot Program AU Masterpost]

This one. This one got away from me.

tl;dr: Absolutely, Anon, we are on very similar pages! This ask really got me thinking about how the whole TAPP!cast is doing fresh out of the Killing Game. Every student in Class 79 is going through something, about now, be it physical or mental; in fact, it’s usually both.

Also: for sure, I want to try and be relatively true-to-life with their struggles, especially Kokichi’s. I write from personal experience living with chronic pain, but haven’t used a cane before. Apologies if I miss the mark at any point.

Obligatory disclaimer: I am not a healthcare professional of any kind and the AU’s premise is largely sci-fi, so there may be inaccuracies. That said, I am fascinated with biomechanics and always looking to learn, so I’m trying to keep things at least semi-plausible.

Full spoilers for Danganronpa V3 (and some for the end of SDR2) ahead!

Very Long Loredump (~6.2k words) under the cut:

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

Everyone is traumatized. That much is obvious, sure, but the Talent Acquisition Pilot Program (TAPP) is a virtual reality simulator based on the bones of the Neo World Program (NWP). In much the way SDR2’s NWP is purported to replicate death in the simulation in the players’ real bodies, the TAPP simulation is built to alter the brain chemistry of its participants. TAPP builds muscle memory and ‘burns’ new neural pathways to a participant’s Default Mode Network (DMN), a collective term for parts of the brain responsible for letting us “autopilot” common tasks like riding a bike or typing on a keyboard. The V3 cast’s experiences in the simulation impact their real bodies in a very literal sense to ‘speedrun’ them through orientation at Hope’s Peak and mainstream them in the curriculum as quickly as possible so its researchers can start collecting useful data on the merits of HPA for investors.

The problem is, nobody programming TAPP anticipated they would start killing each other.

Class 79 were the first human test subjects for the program with zero peer review or board approval, of course, because HPA is morally dubious and can pass off “dude, trust me” as genuine credentials to several world governments. Even if this massive oversight was not noticed until after the fact, V1 of TAPP did at least include one quasi-safety feature: if any player became “significantly injured”, that player would be ejected from the simulation. Everyone else would be locked in the simulation (in case one of them was involved and tried to evade consequences) until an administrator could come and manually assess the situation. In theory, the physically-unharmed student could rejoin the simulation once the conflict was resolved.

But TAPP was built to write data to the brain. It was not built to identify what data it’s actually writing, and cannot differentiate between playing the piano and getting smashed in a hydraulic press. Data is data.

It does not help that Team Danganronpa (the group of Reserve Course kids, including Tsumugi) are foolish teenagers entirely unaware of this, assuming that “none of it is real, so none of it will actually matter! we’re just scaring them!” While skimming through the code and thoroughly Knowing Not What They Do, they manage to remove any defined cap for what constitutes ‘significant injury’ before player ejection. The only flag that can set it off is a lack of any other player flags. Virtual death.

This is where Rantaro earns the title of “Ultimate Survivor”. The shotput ball put him down too quickly for the damage to be fully reflected in his physical body, so he managed to get ejected with post-concussive symptoms, short-term memory issues, and persistent migraines instead of fully dying. Were his method of death much slower, he’d likely have been screwed (and wouldn’t have Komaeda’s luck cycle to save him).

Time scales differently in TAPP than in the physical world; while Rantaro’s been at the virtual Academy for several days, the students have been strapped in their pods for a few hours at most. Between the Responsible Older Sibling Energy seared over the person he may have been before and an extant knack for escape room puzzles, Amami is The Man with the skills and motivation to call in backup.

It’s a good thing he did, too! Their “observer”, having tired of watching a bunch of students play the piano and run around outside, only figures out something has gone horribly wrong the moment Rantaro practically busts down the door. The next tense hour-plus is spent doing damage control and imposing limits on the code of the simulation to prevent TAPP from letting the students actually die. Unfortunately, the TDR kids and their takeover took a sizeable chunk out of the spaghetti code holding the whole thing together in their haste. TDR, with proposed talents like Ultimate Cosplayer on their side, are primarily concerned with artistry and are only competent-enough programmers. As a result, there is no obvious way to manually override the lock completely and just let the students out without significant defragging, even as TDR members are still actively messing with the code, and who knows how long that will take. (About 6-ish chapters)

Instead, for now, they’ll have to settle for putting as many programming-adjacent talents as possible on the case and exploit a loophole that panicking overseer managed to write: if the remaining students are systematically ejected, the program will bypass the lock and let them out. During the rescue operation, the main objective is first to minimize the physical damage TAPP can inflict by lowering the tolerance required to eject the students (which is easier said than done) and by dampening its neural-carving functions, then to get everyone left out of there.

It is a very good thing they sprung into action as quickly as they did, as it doesn’t take long for Kaede to arrive.

KAEDE

The first thing Kaede notices coming out of the simulation is that she can’t hum the notes to get back on-pitch after the worst rendition of Der Flohwalzer she has ever heard. The second thing she notices, because it is far easier to be angry about something trivial than face the slow-dawning realization you are having, is that she can only barely speak. It hurts.

I think Kaede learns to sign early on, but still finds herself trying to speak aloud anyway since she’s so used to having her hands busy already playing piano. Shuichi often reminds her to take it easy, treat it like a vocal rest, and steadily she begins to improve. She is as exuberant as ever, with determination fitting of our protagonist. Kaede is the Class 79 representative, though with his renewed confidence Shuichi often accompanies her. Not only are they best friends (though it is strange, at first, to see her alive after spending so long grieving. Kaede last saw him, like, yesterday.) and Kaede will inevitably tell Shuichi all about the meeting anyway so why not cut out the middle man,  but Shuichi initially came specifically to speak at meetings so Kaede wouldn’t strain her voice. She is immensely proud.

RANTARO (PT. 2)

Rantaro doesn’t hold the shotput ball against her; desperate times, and all. It made sense her proactive attitude would make her first to act for the ‘greater good’. She aimed to end the whole thing, not just comply. Even if she swung and missed, he (an older brother with faint recollections of failing to protect the people depending on him and guilt knowing he doesn’t have the stomach to take a victim and thus will be failing people in need of protection again) can’t fault her for swinging. She is confused when he asks her how she launched the ball that hard, though. Odd.

TENKO

Tenko has neck pain issues like Kaede, but hers are more acute. The seesaw effect was heinous but relatively precise; as the magnum opus of TDR’s homebrewed serial killer, they un/fortunately made him pretty good at it when he has a plan. Tenko has some of the least devastating lingering physical injuries of the class. Given the severity of her classmates’ injuries, though, that still leaves her with minor vocal strain, susceptibility to sore throats, and severe neck pain, among other things.

A lot of Tenko’s lingering trauma is mental: she isn’t quite as willing to immediately throw herself into the fray to help her friends, and certainly doesn’t want to leave her back exposed (a tendency she shares with Kokichi, of all people). While it did numbers on her perception of men again for a while, hearing about the trial left her with a lot to reconcile. In a ‘cool-motive-still-murder’ way, she does not forgive Kiyo (nor is she obligated to) but doesn’t hate him as much as she expected, either. Processing the idea that a girl could be horribly abusive, especially to a guy, and catalyze a cycle of violence… gets to her. She’s more wrapped up in the tragedy of the entire situation than the righteous indignation that’d fueled her for so long. Everybody lost that day.

She’s pleasantly surprised to see Himiko trying to lift her spirits now. Those two have a lot to talk about and boundaries to set, yes, but Tenko is still touched Himiko took her words to heart and seems to be benefiting from it.

ANGIE

Angie had bit more complicated situation than Tenko, getting KO’d before the fatal blow. Her migraines come on more often than Rantaro’s with high light, which is a special kind of awful for the SHSL Artist, but they’re generally closer to a dull ache. Once she gets going on a project she sets out to grin and bear it; Tenko and Himiko often check up on her. She does her best to stay just as upbeat as in the simulation, and if anything it seems more genuine now. She can actually relax, rather than mind-game her way to relative (unsteady) peace under duress.

(Angie is really interesting to me for many adjacent reasons to Kokichi, since they’re both willing to get morally gray and manipulative if it’ll keep everyone from killing each other. Angie-Kokichi compare contrast essay when?)

She hasn’t “forgiven” Kiyo either, but isn’t hostile while she evaluates whether or not his conviction in getting help and being better is genuine. She was pretty heavily affected by TDR’s “character rewrites” as well, after all, and empathizes with the feeling you’ve been used as a glorified dress-up doll. To some unknowable extent, she is a different person now, and it is frightening.

She’s trying to step back and re-analyze her sense of spirituality, particularly how it relates to her art. It’s existentially harrowing, having been made to toe the line between faith and fronting to either get people to either listen to her or not see her as a threat. She’s not even positive “Kami-sama” (not going with the localization here, my understanding is the Japanese version was deliberately more generic and at least a bit less disrespectful towards real people and their beliefs) is the same deity she’d believed in before TAPP, but it’s difficult to try and reconnect with your roots when none of you have any information on your previous lives.

They do, at least, have a resident anthropologist that might have a clue how to even start looking.

Hah. They sure do, huh.

I think Angie is the type to nominally forgive and never, ever forget. She holds the kind of grudge that lives beyond logic as all the compartmentalized emotions you don’t want to admit you have. A grudge that co-exists with an active desire to move on and seeps into her art.

KOREKIYO

Kiyo got burned.

Alive.

Also dead, somehow, an extension of the Ultimate Placebo Effect we have going on in the simulation; Kiyo was so certain ghosts were real and he’d be one that, through earnest conviction, the simulation made it so. I think this is how Komaeda’s luck works in SDR2 as well; the original Neo World Program was developed for therapy, and in doing so assesses whether or not it would be completely devastating (do more harm than good) to actively disprove something about the patient’s worldview at that time and adapts the environment accordingly. Hence you get a reality-warping luck cycle and ghosts are Definitely Real. Is either true in the outside world? No idea! Komaru talks to a ghost in UDG, once, but considering it’s unclear if Kiyo’s sister was ever a living person to begin with there are bigger fish to fry.

Or not. He’s pretty damn-well aware much that hurts. Or at least being boiled and seasoned does. Going by that kind of simulator-logic, I think in a technical sense it was the salt that killed him, not the torture. There’s probably something to unpack there I haven’t fully explored yet.

Rumors start going around campus that Kiyo is a vampire. It makes enough sense for watercooler gossip, the mask covering up fangs and an aversion to lingering out in the sun; Class 79 knows it’s actually because sunburn, for him, is a new brand of Unfun. He prefers to hole up in the library or his lab anyway, so it could be worse. He’s honestly kind of into becoming a school cryptid. It helps transition him from “avoiding my classmates and other people because they hate me, i also hate me, and we are all correct to do so. i am an extension of her so it does not matter what i want” towards “i am not my past, i cannot make up for what ive done but i can move forward and be better, i am forging a new self and it is mine this time and it always should have been”.

(Kokichi is particularly proud of having kickstarted the cryptid thing. Of course Shinguji would love to watch the evolution of new local lore in real time! Now he doesn’t mope in the corner half as much. He’s still in the corner, granted, but its probably reading while Rantaro sits next to him on his phone instead of moping!)

Kiyo’s also in therapy now. They all have therapy scheduled into their school weeks, but Kiyo has a session besides. Fabrication or not, everyone’s backstories are functionally now ‘real’ and need to be dealt with. Kiyo, Maki, and Kokichi got hit particularly hard on that front. Those scars run deep, but are starting to heal.

Of the students with whole-body injuries, Kiyo probably has the most manageable physical symptoms at this stage. He has to have long sleeves and generally keep as covered as he can so that he can subdue the part of his mind that expects the skin is still raw and flaking (it isn’t, but phantom sensations suck). Overheating pushes him toward a panic state like the end of his trial, which doesn’t exactly gel with the first point, but he’s working on it. Rantaro and Kokichi, occasionally Shuichi, tend to notice and start to defuse the situation. Part of me wonders if he’d have a black lace parasol on sunny days to lean in to the ‘mystery’ around him, plus for the sheer Aesthetic of it.

KIRUMI

Speaking of full-body injuries: Kirumi. She has similar ‘got-to-keep-covered’ issues to Kiyo, particularly wearing heavier work gloves now just to minimize any potential for cuts (and, in the back of her mind, ropeburn). Breaking several bones on impact was rough, though fast enough that she’s had remarkable improvement in a relatively short period of time. She started out on crutches, which made it difficult for her to keep up with her workaholic inclinations, but unlike some of the other students she has at least an idea of “when to quit” as not to make things worse. She’s still genuinely lost some bone density resulting from her treatment and coping methods, finding that she really does need to lean on her friends on occasion, but she is still resolute she is a care-giver, damn it. On both physical and mental fronts she’s dealing with reclaiming her agency and independence.

Kirumi is one of the few, with Maki, whose talent courses actively discourage the kinds of behavior they need for personal growth and mental health maintenance. Kirumi is still reconciling her “rewrite”, the encoded passivity in her and clash of her “selfless devotion” against her own will to live and thrive, a nightmarish reminder that You Are Not Your Own. The “Ultimate” maid needs to be agreeable, to follow orders, and hasn’t the tampering just improved her proficiency at her craft? Why be so upset? Never mind having to reconstruct her proper ability to tell people “no”, having to re-learn it’s okay to do things for yourself; according to her programmed instinct, her classes, those very things are antithetical to her talent. And everything relies on that talent, doesn’t it?

Kirumi and Kokichi are the two in Class 79 who were discharged with mobility devices that got students in the other classes… more than mildly concerned about what the hell happened to all of these freshmen (well, first year at HPA anyway), but luckily for HPA administration they’re also probably the two people least likely to offer details.

THE RIBS

There are enough students who have chest pain and associated issues that they made a club about it. It started out as Miu, Ryoma, and Kaito all independently concluding there was no way in hell they were making it through a mile run and sitting on the bleachers. Once they’d had an opportunity to gather themselves again, they do as teens are wont to do and started talking to each other. Hypoxia is an oddly effective experience to bond over. They call themselves the RIBs, standing for “Respiratory-Issue Beleaguered” (students), mostly because it made Miu laugh and for as irritating as the sound could be they’d missed it.

Kaede, Tenko, Gonta, and Kokichi also stop by from time-to-time, meaning precisely half of the 14 active Class 79 students revolving-door through this unofficial student group. HPA took notice. Class 79 has its own gym class, now, taking into account the state of everyone. One could argue that should have been the case from the onset. They would be correct.

RYOMA

Ryoma is fairly elusive. He generally keeps to himself and remains a Fairly Chill Guy with a cool temperament everyone wants to emulate (he doesn’t see what they see in him) and some Complicated Feelings now knowing he hasn’t killed anyone in the certified Real World and, by logic, should not have to have the memories of a hardened prisoner. He still does.  The persistent rasp in his voice now surprises nobody, but it took a few days for everyone in the class to stop flinching a little hearing it. He frequently hangs out in the animal shed with Gonta, Gundham, and Peko to take care of the cats.

MIU

We’ve seen quite a bit of Miu in the AU so far, but to recap a lot of her deal:

She loathes having to “take it easy” but will do so reluctantly

She tries to talk less to stretch out her working time as much as she can (even if she can’t resist just a little banter when Kokichi swings by)

She’s trying to approach her death with a sense of humor. A choker with a huge heart-shaped buckle replaces her usual necklaces with full awareness of the irony. Ha-ha, a choker. It’s a dare for anybody to bring it up, ‘I’ve said it before anyone else could’. The first thing she did waking up was try and make an autoerotic asphyxiation joke. It did not make her feel better like she thought it would.

Miu spends most of her time in her lab, now. Granted, she did that already, but she’s particularly fixated on re-creating a certain Ultimate Robot, ground-up if she has to. Fortunately, she has a team assembled (re: two upperclassmen and the Ultimate Supreme Shit-for-brains). We’ll see how this pans out soon enough.

When not re-building Kiibo outright, she ““takes a break”” innovating in other areas (re: prototyping potential features for kIIbo, usually testing them on a bored Kokichi. He usually complies because Miu is one of the few who doesn’t look at him with a patronizing amount of pity she’s Not boring. Mm-hmm. All there is to it.)

Miu does not resent Gonta (or Kokichi, for that matter) for killing her. There's a small extent to which she's a little relieved she was stopped from going through with her plan to kill Kokichi, and a much bigger disconnect between her idea of reality and her memory of Chapter 4. Miu died in a VR game within another VR game. Having messed around with the programming and guts of the nested simulation personally, it still seems fake. She didn't really die, no matter how real it felt; they were in a simulation. Logically, she's well aware of how it works and the consequences, but it doesn't feel like it was more than a glorified fever dream on an emotional level. Both Gonta and Kokichi are more outwardly traumatized by her death than Miu as a byproduct of how she's processing it. She's not "better off" or "less impacted" so much as "disassociated from the whole thing and very much wanting to put it behind them before it catches up with her", thus burying herself in work and trying as hard as she can to bring back the one person she wants to comfort her.

Kiibo's absence is not great for her abandonment issues. It is hard to blame him when he never had a physical body to begin with, though. 

GONTA

Gonta is also with the RIBs, and reeling from it the most visibly of everyone on account of just how. Much, his death was. An allergic reaction blocking off the air, puncturing at least one lung for certain, and living long enough to feel the shrapnel of the laptop lodge into the wound alongside the scythe, the fire quickly eating away any oxygen, any hope of gasping another breath… yeah no he acts as much the gentleman as ever but he is not okay. As Resident Buff Nature Boy Gonta tanked it better than anyone else in the class could have, but the sheer excess of the thing gets to him. Fond memories of setting a campfire in the woods with his adoptive family are overwritten, vespidae in general… hitting differently. But Gonta is kind, to a fault. More resolute than ever to make himself into a kind of person not perceived as ‘too intimidating’ to be friends with, acknowledging the capacity he has for violence is difficult. Somewhere deep down he knows that everybody does, especially in their circumstances, but still acts as though his case is exceptionally bad (nobody else does. This does not deter him, becoming a little less gullible when its least helpful).

He is also not as disconcerted by the occasional spontaneous sensation that your insides are going to lose structural integrity, even with no stitches to pop, that with only the damaged wake and no piercing sharp pain to focus on and blame for the mess could potentially be perceived as a bizarre, abstracted kind of crawling feeling from the inside-out. Things in motion, displaced from where they are meant to be. He knows it isn’t bugs, isn’t glass and metal and plastic, that it isn’t anything but himself. A teeny-tiny part of him wishes it were. At least being shelter for a hive of some sort would be helpful. Aren’t gentlemen helpful, they improve life for people, make things better and how could anyone even look at you again knowing what you’re capable of, who in their right mind would talk to you, you’re going to end up alone again talking to stray cats in the alley since not even the wolves would stay—

Gonta also has extra therapy. He already had to work out self-worth issues, but the game pushed them to interfere too much in daily life not to actively work on.

KAITO

Kaito has made several background and supporting appearances without much central attention just yet. It's not that I don't like him or anything (I do!) but I guess because it seems like well-worn territory in V3 fic to me? Kaito is endlessly proud of Maki and Shuichi (Himiko too, less personally) for "winning" in the face of the killing game, and the training trio of them meet back up again regularly. Only.

It's different, now. 

He's no longer sick and dying, but his lungs 'top out' at a certain level of activity and refuse to take in more air, this burning sensation that leaves him only able to huff and wheeze and brings his training regiment to a dead stop. He treasures those last moments in his failed execution where he got to see the stars, because a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind won't let him forget that he never will again. Not the way he'd dreamed of, the way he'd planned to, the way he'd centered his identity around. There is no way, as things are, that he will pass all the physical exams to become a proper astronaut. 

The drawn-out deterioration of his health during the simulation chipped away at his physical lungs at a rate too gradual for the countermeasures the rescue team implemented; TAPP did more overt physical damage to Kaito than anyone else. It could certainly be worse and he is gradually improving, but some degree of it is permanent. It haunts him. He's trying not to think about it.

It does, though, drive a wedge between him and his sidekicks; the survivors are planning their futures, and Kaito is not too far from a slight tailspin without any idea what his might look like for the first time he can recall. Space has been the dream since he was a kid (as has getting there in this specific role) and it almost feels like a rejection. Like he got too cocky, and the cosmos decided it didn't want him. 

It starts to make a little more sense, then, that he starts willingly hanging out with Kokichi. They went through the hangar together, of course, but even besides the traumabond (and a need to, after he woke from his coma, make sure the little brat is still alive, damn it, you can't run away anymore it counts now) but. If anyone else gets having such drastically shifted circumstances that life as you'd imagined it no longer makes logistical sense, it's probably the leader without an organization. There's no need to explain the feelings of inadequacy, or the aimlessness, going through the motions of classes and formal education because what the hell else am I going to do, right now? It's familiar. 

Kokichi needs someone willing to chase him, no matter how circuitous the route becomes. Kaito needs someone willing to shake him by the shoulders and snap him out of his own head, so sure it's all-or-nothing and that if he can't be the Luminary as he'd dreamed of it whatever happens next is immaterial in comparison. Kaito needs to adapt and roll with the punches, Kokichi needs to double back from his logical leaps from point A to point Q and articulate his thoughts clearly to other people (at least some of the time.) The two of them concoct little daily and weekly rituals, like Kokichi stealing Kaito's notebook and drawing in it, just because the consistency of company reminds them both that they aren't the only one going through this. 

None of the other students quite get it, but have come to accept it.

KOKICHI

Then there’s Kokichi.

Ah, Kokichi, whose whole deal in this scenario inspired me to write about this AU at all (and who manages to weasel his way into every comic and a other entries in these notes) . I’m biased, I know, but there are also a few reasons he’s singled out in-universe as well:

A) So a hydraulic press does not slam down quickly. The pause-and-play of the video deliberately makes it look much faster than it was; watching enough of the hydraulic press channel makes it abundantly clear that it was not instant. Kokichi was impaled with two crossbow bolts (the one in the back being bad enough already), poisoned by those bolts, and then pressed. He had to have felt non-zero of the Pressing, which, considering it already had to be agony before bones started breaking… the rest of the class might not have been fond of him, sure, but he’s right there with Gonta on “sheer level of excess.” Not even Maki is at a point of wishing that on him. Not after finding out how drawn out and excruciating it was. Veering into headcanon, I’m going to add “sleep deprivation” on the pile as exacerbating the whole thing, given his conspiracy whiteboard and everything after the concussion, honestly.

Combined with the World’s Worst Placebo Effect, King Horse takes the crown for top “my entire body hurts most of the time” severity. It’s not a desirable one, but when your previous life is all but erased there is exactly one choice available between Big and Home. Let it be said Kokichi Ouma has never half-assed anything he’s set his mind to, ever.

B) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting, which adds the psychological angle of “you literally shot me in the back” to a poison-laced crossbow bolt in his mind. TAPP will very literally never let him forget the bolt burying itself in the muscle of his back, barely kept from severing his spinal cord; he won’t forget the shivering and shaking from the poison, or the bile rising in the back of his throat handing Kaito the antidote. (He still wanted to live. He forfeit the right, he thought, after getting Gonta and Miu killed, but he still wanted to. That was all the more reason to quadruple-down on the press idea and making their three deaths mean something, damn it. Three, because Kaito could live. If the killing game ends there is no execution. It’ll be over. Can’t take back the past, but at least one of the pair of you has to walk out of this forsaken place!)

(… Can you really believe that? Or is it just another lie.

A lie you want, with all the heart they’re so sure you do not have, to blithely believe. There has to be a cure for whatever the hell has gotten into Kaito once the game ends and they can look for it, it might even stop cold the moment the game ends. That dumbass space cadet can go back to his sidekicks and he better appreciate it, the comradery you’ll never have, because he is the designated Hero and Heroes get happy endings. You want-want-want-want to trust in that lie, to trust him with the collected thoughts and notes and pieces of you spilled across reams of paper that have been so pointlessly important for you to keep secret this whole time. For once in your life, you want to believe you will not be betrayed. You want to believe in the closest thing you have left to a friend.

It will, in fact, be the last thing you do.)

C) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting. Again. Only this flavor has more to do with his persistent denial anything is wrong, in turn making things a lot worse for himself. Mental trauma and impressions of physical sensations can have physical effects. Clinging to his persona and trying to keep bouncing around like nothing ever happened turned a very difficult but potentially manageable condition into small amounts of permanent nerve damage within the first day of waking up. It screws with his coordination; just what he needed at a school that prizes talent above all else, when he is a leader with no organization and proficiencies in sleight of hand, forgery, lockpicking, and generally evading anything that might threaten him because he can’t take very many hits.

Whoops.

D) Kokichi was last of the class to wake up from the simulation, even after the survivors. They thought he was actually dead for a bit. Just when they were thinking of  giving up on him Kokichi Ouma, SHSL Stubborn Son of a Bitch, refuses to stay down for the count.

HPA already knew Class 79 would need accommodations on account of their negligence, but it became much harder to sweep things under the rug when they thought they’d actually killed a student. Even worse, thirteen witnesses have been actively fraternizing and scaled the flashback-gaslighting required to cover it up to easily exceed what their current technology is capable of.

Half the class was positive Ouma was playing dead specifically to fuck with them and light the fire under them to act. He and Kaito are the only ones to know without a shred of doubt that he was not. He still gladly takes the credit, though.

E) Class 79 as a whole already adapted to Ouma Being Ouma, so when the definition of ‘Being Ouma’ expanded he’s still pretty distinct. He hangs out around the people closest to him often, particularly Miu, Kaito, and Rantaro, but the entire class knows now that he’s pretty much beyond the point of perfidy. Even if he were to lie about being in more pain than he is at a given moment, there’s constantly enough underlying truth in how vulnerable he is that it’s not strategically worth trying to use as a manipulative tactic. It’s too real. Plus, he knows better than to boy-that-cried-wolf his way out of help from his classmates after getting lost on campus once and fainting before he found his way back.

K1-B0

K1-B0, as far as has been established, is being re/built. Miu is spearheading the project. Presumably, he is currently hanging out on at least one computer in the school, somewhere. Per the AU, though, Chapter 6 did go a bit differently than canon, so we’ll catch up with him soon.

TSUMUGI

Nobody is exactly certain what happened to Shirogane. Or, at the very least, nobody in the class knows. Admin is certainly not about to tell them. Wouldn’t it be just like the Ultimate Cosplayer to Theseus her way back into their lives following a single loose thread…

THE SURVIVORS

Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko each emerged from the simulation minimally physically harmed in a lasting sense beyond initial fatigue from being hooked up for so long. Each is still moving forward on their established character arc: Himiko is finding her motivation, Maki is learning to open up, and Shuichi is becoming more sure of himself and his detective abilities.

I think Himiko begins embracing the 'stage' side of her magic, considering that TAPP was blocking my mana, and you know what? I survived a killing game, and I didn't even need it. What else can I do without my mana? As time goes on, she'll likely value her own practical skills more rather than relying on her want of more fantastical powers. Not to say she'd disown them, but more that she could admit to herself it's more for fun than a need to affix something exceptional to her identity. She is enough as she is.

Maki enters HPA and immediately requests transfer out of 'Ultimate Assassin' classes. She hates fighting, per canon, and after going through the simulation she is no longer afraid of any authority figure that may deny her because she has certifiably seen worse. She initially tries to pivot and become the Ultimate Child Caregiver, for Real This Time; she is genuinely pretty good with kids. After a little incident nearly choking Kokichi, though? It confirms what she'd been afraid of all along: her patience is too thin, her instinct to defend too heavy on the trigger. She talks to Peko about it, among other people, Mukuro and Sakura chief among the other classes. She'd made their acquaintances during combat training in the first few days at HPA. She especially confides in Kaede, who carries a more-domestic-less-battlescorn perspective on it she can't help but appreciate. Kaede takes her to not-Claire's, playing with accessories and make-up and generally reclaiming some of the girlhood Maki has effectively never been allowed to have. In the whole process, Maki realizes she wants more than anything to protect the ability to have that kind of frivolity, that freedom: she changes tracks again, to become a SHSL Bodyguard.

Shuichi is a difficult one to place for me, exactly. He's in a state of becoming significantly more confident in the wake of the simulation, but the deviation from canon has turned the main conflict away from ending a destructive cycle and towards fighting the idea of predetermination by an external force. Shirogane was predetermined to stay in the Reserve Course despite her skills and aspirations, and railed against it; Kiibo was predetermined to be an AI helper and not a person, but embraced the role so hard he developed a soul of his own; Maki denies her talent and changes her destiny, Himiko embraces hers.

I suppose Saihara must fall somewhere in the middle, then. An observer steadfastly declaring that yes, there were aspects of life shaped for them beyond their control (entry into the simulation if they wanted a taste of success, the killing game, the "character rewrites" overriding the people they were before...) and yes they cannot control everything. What happened has happened. There are always going to be things you can't control (like how severely you burn in the sun, or whether you get headaches with the lights up too high, or even if your dream life rockets away too fast for you to catch unless you want to lose what you still have) but you can adapt to it. It's tempting to give in, to consider it all a lost cause, to submit to the forces you feel are puppeting you, but see. You keep living anyway, because you have to. The only way forward is through. Even if you were a puppet, you're still an independent you, and that means something. Maybe you can't snap your strings, but you can sure as hell stretch them out and bend them in a way you like better than this one.

Not having total control doesn't mean the control you do have doesn't matter.

So Shuichi is taking up cases as a detective, now. Seeing how he likes it. If not? Well. Skills are transferable. 

He'll be okay.

They all will.

----

(The first screenshot I took of this ask to begin drafting vs. the last one:

I'm sorry I am bad at timely responses but I hope they are Good.)

[yc-shiya]

danganronpa universe dashboard simulator

💔 monoslayy Follow

rlly it’s not “pretentious” to not find the newer seasons better?? listen i love the new ones as much as anyone else (ESP DANRON 48 UGHHHHH WTFFF) but to act like the junko twist is still subversive is just WRONG

😈 junkosgirl04 Follow

Literally who said that lol this is not an unpopular opinion at all

💔 monoslayy Follow

are you biased maybe “junkosgirl04”

☠️ the-sauna-scene Follow

they did him so dirtyyyy 😭 we do not talk about this hair ATROCITY!!! its not even funny

🌟dangan-wrongpa Follow

I find it really interesting that you so-called “sympathetic” Danganronpa fans are always harping on about the tragedies of the characters played by *REAL LIFE ACTORS* rather than the later seasons when the showrunners recruited and killed *TEENAGERS* for money and views. It’s one level of wrong to be a fan of the show and still acknowledge its problems, especially with the newer releases. It’s something else entirely to still be talking about seasons one, two, three…and completely ignore the ongoing human rights violation that is modern day Danganronpa. You people disgust me. I sincerely wish you could take a better look at the media you consume, because it’s actually, LITERALLY killing people.

☠️ the-sauna-scene Follow

not reading that

🌟 dangan-wrongpa Follow

wow! posting fetish art of REAL LIVING PEOPLE too! literally nothing shocks me anymore with you freaks!!!

🍬 kimurasgf Follow

hey wait arent you the guy who auditioned for season 53 pitching yourself as the ultimate vtuber? lmfao?

🧈 death-by-balls Follow

If i had a nickel for every danganronpa man ive loved who was executed and turned into butter, i would have three nickels, which isnt a lot, but its weird that its happened thrice

#in 1 then 13 then 39 #they were cooking tho ngl 🔥🔥

🍀 hopefulservant Follow

listen i can be fucked in the head sometimes but we srsly gotta take a step back and consider how the series is exploiting mentally ill people for content. i mean, whens the last time we had a double or triple murder where the killer wasn’t already, or eventually revealed to be, mentally ill? What is that saying, exactly??

💣 togamicorp Follow

more👏neurotypical👏serial👏killers👏

🔪 chapter3sweetheart Follow

OP i have some news about your best boy

🍀 hopefulservant Follow

….agh…….my worthless talent…….

🎹 warriorsofdope Follow

okay can someone tell me why im seeing ship discourse about danganronpa 48 again? i thought we all played the same game and came to the consensus that the optional romance event with the whole class was universally canonical

🔮 30-percent Follow

Some of us didn’t get it on our playthrough 😒 also Sorry but I don’t like some of the cast of danganronpa 48. I don’t want them all shipped together.

🎹 warriorsofdope Follow

I can’t forgive you . Im gonna have to kill you for having that opinion.

🌟 dangan-wrongpa Follow

you shouldn’t ship the cast of danganronpa 48 because half of them are confirmed clones of Junko. go through chapter 5 again if you forgot.

🚀 femmesakura Follow

SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES SHUT UP ABOUT THE JUNKO CLONES

THAT THEORY WAS DISPROVEN IN DANGANRONPA 49 STFU STFU STFU HOW ARE PEOPLE STILL THINKING THIS?!?!?

🐹 gundamwenttohell Follow

dont bother with him hes the vtuber guy

[mable-stitchpunk]

If this has been asked before, sorry. But I was wondering about your choice to turn Charlie into the Puppet as a teen instead of a kid. Was it because of the drama with her friends, and why did you go with the method you did of... dispatching her human body?

So, when I started the Home Series, Charlie being the Puppet wasn't a thing. In fact, if I recall right, only TSE was out. (And I only remember that because I worked in the name Henry) So, that sort of explains most of it. XD

Before I started AFLH, while I was either finishing or had finished CGHA, I had the idea for a story that involved Charlie becoming the Security Puppet and being taken in by Marionette. At that point the story was called Securely Strung and wouldn't have been part of the Home Series. However, plans changed when I realized this plot point could pretty much make Almost Feels Like Home (which hadn't been plotted out much yet).

Thus, I decided to have Charlie become the Security Puppet and have AFLH involve her journey in adjusting to the change, along with having Mike and Mari adjust to having her as a part of their life.

One of the most important reasons for this was because at this point, we had only seen animatronics reflecting on how they became one and many of them had been animatronics for years. So, the process of witnessing someone deal with their own death and this semi-second life was a bridge not yet crossed. Charlie's story would allow us to both see this and watch her cope with the loss of her physical humanity. A win-win, really. Especially since I was awful tempted to bring her in for a bigger role.

Having Charlie be a teenager actually helps these themes along. In context of her life and how she feels, she kind of had more to lose. A child is not as aware of the greater scheme as an adult may be, so Charlie is able to go through the full variety of emotions in her change. She knows EXACTLY what she lost and we also see her methods of coping as she comes around to her new life.

Charlie's death was purposefully an homage to the alleyway scene in Pizzeria Simulator. Though we don't know how Charlie died in-game, there are skid marks on the road beside her body. Likely for a quick escape, but it got the ball rolling on how the scenario could play out. Close, but not exact.

And no, I don't think anyone's asked me this before! So, no worries. ^_^

[tomodachi--collection]

Things I’ll do

Things marked with * are things I’m especially excited to do, things marked with ^ are sources we have fictives from, and most likely will do that request Disclaimer; I’m critical of all the sources here

Source List:

Anime/Manga/Cartoons/Shows: -AIR*^ -Beastars -Death Note -Doctor Who -Dragon Ball^ -Ed, Edd, n Eddy -Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure^ (All Parts) -Lucky Star -Moomins -My Hero Academia -My Little Pony (any gen) -One Piece^ -Paprika -Peanuts* -Perfect Blue -Pop Team Epic -Ride the Cyclone Musical -Steven Universe -The Amazing Digital Circus -The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya^

Games: -Ace Attorney -Animal Crossing* -Bendy and the Ink Machine^ (and the other games) -Bugsnax* -Ciel Fledge: A Daughter Raising Simulator^ -Danganronpa -Dayshift at Freddy’s^ -Deltarune^ -Detroit Become Human^ -Dialtown^ -Doki Doki Literature Club -Doll Eye^ -Doshin the Giant -Faith the Unholy Trinity^ -Far Cry 5^ -Fire Emblem^ (work best with awakening + fates, but with help can do others) -Five Nights at Freddy’s*^ -Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective -Half Life^ -Harvest Moon* & Story of Seasons -Katawa Shoujo^ -Kingdom Hearts -Kirby -Little Inferno -Megaman^ -Mother/Earthbound -MySims -Needy Streamer Overload -OMORI -Parappa the Rapper* & Um Jammer Lammy* -Placid Plastic Duck Simulator -Pokemon* (and all spinoffs!) -Portal^ -Professor Layton -Roblox (will need help with specific games) -Sonic the Hedgehog + Chao Garden stuff -Splatoon -Stardew Valley -Team Fortress 2^ -The Legend of Zelda (any game) -The Papa Louie/Flipline Games* -The Stanley Parable^ -Tomodachi Life/Tomodachi Collection* -Touhou*^ -Undertale^ -Yakuza/Like a Dragon^ -Yandere Simulator -Yo-kai watch*^ Other Stuff: -Animals -Blueycapsules Fnaf Comics^ -Bratz -General Themes -Gorillaz^ -Half Life VR but the AI is sentient^ & Y2KVR -Homestuck^ -Names -Plushies* & Figures -Sanrio stuff -Seasonal stuff (valentines, halloween, christmas, etc. im a white british christian so bare with me for religious and other holidays and events) -The Muppets & Sesame Street -Vinesauce Tomodachi Life + Miitopia series* -Vocaloid & Other Vocal Synths^ (will need help with non-mainstream stuff, sorry i’m a noob lmao)

Something you want not on the list? Ask anyway, no promises I’ll do it but if you’re specific enough I should be able to push something out. I’ll also try extra hard if you’re a fictive, but again, no promises. I have limits! /nm

[randomboo256]

Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped (1998) Review [Part Two]

[This post is the second half of a larger review. I was forced to split it due to character limits. Please read the first half before reading this one.]

The game structure is the same as Crash 2, where 5 levels of roughly the same difficulty open at once and you beat them in any order. In both of these games, I always just beat them from left to right. What’s honestly the point of this structure? You have to beat all five anyway before you move on to the next world. I suppose it can add replayability if you swap up the order each time. I don’t know the reason, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. The core gameplay is about the same as Crash 2. All the moves from that game return, but now with a twist. After every boss fight, you unlock a brand new ability. The first one is a belly flop. I'm already confused. We already have a belly flop we never use. Now we have a slightly different belly flop that we also never use. The others are more useful. Up next is a double jump. The double jump in this game is weird and took time getting used to. Basically while you can jump twice, you can only jump the second time if you haven’t started falling down after your first jump. So the second Crash starts falling after a jump, you lose the ability to double jump. It sounds awkward and it is awkward. I suppose that’s the tradeoff for being able to have a double jump in the first place. After that we got the “Death Tornado Spin” which allows you to mash the spin button to continuously spin. You can also use it in midair to glide. The gliding is a bit inconsistent at first but it wasn’t too hard to get the hang of. I like this move. Next we get a fucking gun. Dear god Crash Bandicoot has firepower. The Fruit Bazooka is slow to pull out and aim, but it also lets you completely break some challenging sections by just killing the enemies or shooting the nitros from a distance. It’s ok, but you barely get to use it. The final world only has 3 platforming levels and 1 of them is about going fast constantly, so stopping to aim isn’t helpful. Once you beat the final boss you get the Crash Dash. It’s a run button. That’s Crash’s moveset, and overall I quite like it in concept, but in execution a lot of power ups felt either awkward to get the hang of or were completely underutilized. That’s in no small part because of just how little of this game is actually spent doing normal platforming, being only about half of the game’s levels.

This game was around the start of an era. A very dark and evil era. It didn’t really start in full force until Playstation’s next console came out, but the seeds of that time were planted right around here. This was the start of the “variety era”, as I like to call it. It was a point in time where every fucking studio, especially ones working on platformers, were OBSESSED with shoving random nonsense all over their games all for the sake of “variety”. We’ll have whole levels and sections dedicated to half baked and unfun gameplay styles that completely distract from the gameplay you’re actually playing the game for. NO Mr. Sly Cooper, I don’t want to play a shitty racing game or an equally shitty turret section. I just want to rob a bank! I understand that developers likely get worried that too much of the game will play too similarly and thus it will all blend together, but this is not how you add variety to a game! Variety should all stem from the core gameplay genre. If I’m playing a platformer, give me interesting platforming challenges. Crash Bandicoot 1 did that well with those hog riding and ball rolling sections. They didn’t have to shove a fucking fishing simulator in the middle of my Sonic the Hedgehog game.

As for Crash Bandicoot 3 in particular, we have four types of vehicle stages: jet ski, scuba, motorcycle, and plane. The jet ski is ok, but it doesn’t add much. It’s pretty boring and easy. The scuba levels are like the jet ski: really boring and easy, except scuba is even more boring because it’s an awful underwater level. The motorcycle is a racing minigame, and it’s pretty challenging. They expect you to actually get pretty good at controlling that thing. For what it is it’s ok, but I dislike that they force you to get pretty good at a totally unrelated game style. The plane is a dogfight and it’s awful. The problem is that the controls are fighting you. The D-Pad both steers and aims your gun and your gunfire automatically snaps back to a directly in front of you when you aren't currently steering up or down, so you’re constantly struggling to get your bullets to go where you want. It’s not even that hard. It’s just really unfun. It is possible to use the analog sticks instead of the D-Pad, but I didn't realize that until after beating the game. The sticks make the controls a little better, but not by much. Honestly, most of these vehicle stages aren’t that bad. They can be decently fun, but I still object to them for not being what I came here for. I want platforming. This isn’t platforming. Man, I’d hate to go for 100% with this game. You’d have to break every crate in every level, including these ones. Not to mention the time trials. OH YEAH. The time trials.

Without going too deep into it, this game has time trials. Except unlike other games, these are required for the ending. I would say “the true ending”, but the normal “ending” has no actual end to the story. So the 100% ending is just the only ending. So if you want to see how the plot ends, you’re required to replay every level, including vehicle levels, at least once— without dying mind you— and have a good clear time on all of them. But just once is really unrealistic. You’ll probably end up replaying every level at least up to 3 times depending on your luck with the time trials. Not only can you not do a time trial at all on your first playthrough of a stage, you can’t even really beat most of them anyway until post game when you unlock the Crash Dash. This is padding to the most extreme degree, so no I didn’t bother doing it. It’s a shame really because doing things like breaking every box in a level can be fun, but unless you’re also willing to replay every level several times collecting that box gem will do nothing. I think this is ultimately the biggest problem this series has, and that’s that it’s all or nothing. Either you go for a minimalist run or you go for a 100% completion run. There’s no inbetween, and that really sucks. Same goes for breaking every box in a level. If you don’t break absolutely every box, you may well have broken none. There’s no leeway here. No room for human error and no room for you just not wanting to do a certain gem or the like. What they should’ve done was let you see the ending if you got half of the gems, or two thirds of the gems. The 100% reward could be like a fun joke ending, like how Crash 1’s 100% was a joke ending. That would be a great way to go about this. Anyway, let’s wrap this up.

Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped, despite my bitching, was a decent game. The story sucked, but I don’t really care because the platforming, when you could do it, was really fun. The vehicle levels ranged from mildly fun to bad, but I dislike their inclusion on principle. Despite that, they didn’t really ruin the game for me. The main issue wasn’t with the levels themselves, as most were ok, but with the fact that I’m not platforming. Honestly, I’d be lying if I said they weren’t a little fun at times. The controls and physics for them were surprisingly tight and satisfying, especially for the motorcycle. It definitely wasn’t perfect, but if it were fleshed out more as its own game and not just some random game style, it could’ve been a lot better. Naughty Dog certainly seems to have the potential to make a good racing game at least.

Hey wait... didn't they...

You know what, that's a story for another time.

Overall, Crash Bandicoot 3 was a game with great elements that all came together into a mismatched whole. The core platforming, while tad easy with all the powerups, is super fun. However, I rarely get to USE that platforming. I could replay the handful of levels they did give me, but why couldn't they have just given me a single complete Crash Bandicoot game? Instead, we have half of one. The other half of the game was just mildly tolerable filler. Maybe Naughty Dog did run out of ideas, like I speculated way back at the start of this. Or maybe they were really just that paranoid that the game needed more "variety". Whatever the reason for it may be, this game felt really half baked.

Despite that, I like it a bit more than Crash 2. Something I forgot to mention is that they fixed the jumping physics. In Crash 1, they were light and floaty. In Crash 2, they were heavy and in my opinion awkward. In Crash 3, they found a happy middleground. It also helped that I didn't even bother with 100% here, whereas in Crash 2 I forced myself to get 100% and it kinda spoiled the experience for me. Despite the filler, I do think Crash 3 is at least on par with Crash 2, and perhaps a little bit more. So much like 2, I think it's a decent game, but it's not worth actively seeking out. At least when it comes to the PS1 version anyway.

The platforming gameplay could be a great groundwork for later games in the series, though. However the developers will have to be someone other than Naughty Dog, as this was their last Crash Bandicoot platformer. We did have Crash platformers after this despite that. Most of them were... less that stellar. However after many years of Crash bouncing between developers and rights holders, we eventually got a game called Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time. I may go more into depth about this game some other day, but for now I'll summarize.

Crash 4 is a game that manages to take the best parts of all the classic Crash games while sprucing them up with modern flair. We got the linear game structure and tight precise platforming of Crash 1 alongside the expanded and fun movesets of Crash 2 and 3. We also had great visuals and a pretty well written and beautifully animated story that feels straight out of a saturday morning cartoon. The game has seen a lot of criticism for the experience of 100% it, doubling down on issues the originals had. However, 100% only gives you a Marvel style stinger and further going for 106% gives you a fun joke ending. The game's normal ending only requires beating the main levels, just like it should be. Overall, I highly recommend Crash 4. It's not perfect, but it's pretty damn good.

Just make sure you pirate the game because seriously FUCK Activision Blizzard. Do not support them.

That's all for now.

[visual-calc]

ooc: call me encyclopedia because this post has footnotes- I wanted to go into more detail about the math and various simplifying assumptions I made, so look under the cut for those

"assume hemi-spherical turtle" is a reference to the common joke among physicists, "assume spherical cow". Unlike assuming spherical cows, hemispherical turtles make a slightly more reasonable approximation. Their shells are flatter and probably less aerodynamic, but it's close enough for my purposes.

Everything about deriving the equations for v(t) and y(t) are basically just the standard derivation for free-fall with quadratic drag. The integral involved is pretty schnasty and, despite running the visual calculus blog, I have very limited patience for calculus nonsense these days, especially for something I'm doing for fun and not my homework. So I ended up using a guide for most of it.

Most of the actual breaking bit I ended up pulling out of my ass. I wasn't lying when I said the physics of stuff breaking gets complicated— to do it out properly would probably require a computer simulation and a shitload of really complicated physics. A lot of a mechanical engineering degree is learning how stuff breaks (so you can make stuff that doesn't). I'm a physics student, not an engineering student, so it's physics I simply don't know and which doesn't interest me that much.

Impact time was pretty much just a guess— I assumed that the ideal impact for the turtle would be to bounce like a ball, which takes a few milliseconds. Anything else would require the shell to break, similar to the crumple zone on a car (side note: no crumple zones on motor carriages means Elysium cars are death traps), which slows down the momentum change and results in less overall force being applied. However, the shell breaking is exactly what we don't want. I originally tried 0.001 seconds, but that gave a laughably low height of 5cm, so I adjusted a little.

4500 Newtons is equivalent to 1000 pounds of force, which some sources said is enough to break a turtle shell. I have no clue how reliable that source is, however.

I think my answer of ~1 meter is fairly reasonable. Some turtle keepers report injuries from their turtles falling off of tables, which are about that high.

This last thing is purely just because it makes my little physics & astronomy brain go brrrr— I said that the acceleration due to gravity and the air density are the same as at the surface of the Earth, but labeled them as being the values for Elysium's surface. However, Elysium is likely a larger planet than Earth. We know that the shortest distance from Revachol to the edge of the Pale is ~6000km. If that means Insulinde is around 12,000km across, that's a third of the Earth's circumference right there. With seven isolas, all around that size, the part of the planet that's normal ground is probably larger than Earth. AND 73% of it is covered by the Pale. Needless to say, it should have a higher acceleration due to gravity and a higher air density at the surface. However, everything we see in the game is probably consistent with Elysium having Earth-like values for those parameters (I'm not about to go take pixel measurements of something falling to confirm that). so using these values is fine. probably.

Does gravity even work the same in Elysium??? Our best understanding of gravity is general relativity, which ties gravity pretty intrinsically to the coordinate system of a given area of space, and oh wait... the Pale doesn't have coordinates. Or dimensions. What the fuck do you mean, it doesn't have dimensions. These are the issues you run into when trying to suss out how physics works in Elysium: the Pale is a big old category error lurking around every corner, waiting to wreck your shit.

anyways... thank you Turtle for sending me this ask, I'm not sure what you want to know that for but you fully lobbed a meat-stuffed pumpkin into my enclosure that I got to bat around for a few days

anyways now back to your regularly scheduled viscalc posting

How tall do you think can I fall before my shell break by impact? Hypothetically in case

VISUAL CALCULUS [Formidable: Success] — It's difficult to pin down an exact number, given the necessary simplifications, but I can certainly come up with an estimate. Let me just...

To summarize, if we approximate your shell as a hemisphere, we can derive the equations for how fast and how far you would fall as a function of time, assuming you were dropped from rest and not thrown. With those equations in hand, we can then derive an expression for time of impact in terms of the height you were dropped from, and plug this in to our previous equation for velocity, to get your velocity at impact as a function of height. So far, so relatively accurate.

The difficult piece is determining the force of impact, and the force necessary to actually break your shell. The physics of how things break is messy, and while I can reconstruct objects the detective finds already broken, pre-constructing potential damage is much harder.

Our model is therefore somewhat simplistic— we take the force transferred to your shell upon impact to be the change in momentum divided by the time the impact takes. Since you go from impact velocity to zero velocity upon hitting the ground, the momentum change is simply your mass multiplied by your impact velocity. The time the impact takes is, admittedly, an educated guess on my part. We know it must be short, as lengthening it would require either padding on the ground your shell to break and slow you down gradually, which is the exact failure mode we're trying to avoid. We'll say it's about 0.005 seconds. We'll also say that it takes around 4500 Newtons of force to break your shell, and that your shell only breaks if the impact force exceeds this number. A more realistic model would take into account the possibility of varying degrees of damage, but again. Simplifying assumptions.

With all of these pieces, we can then plot the time of impact, impact velocity, and impact force as a function of drop height— shown in blue, green, and purple on the plot below.

Impact force increases incredibly quickly with drop height, so much so that it appears like a straight line on this plot. The purple curve crosses the 4500 Newton threshold at a mere 1.75 meters. Given the simplifying assumptions we've made, I'd say err on the side of caution and try not to fall a distance further than 1 meter without some manner of protective gear.

Please tell me you don't have any parachute-less skydiving trips planned...

[adobe-outdesign]

Pokemon Worldbuilding Headcanons

Exactly what it says in the title. Some are based on the game, some on the anime, and some directly contradict both because the Pokemon lore is made up and your feelings don’t matter.

Biology

Pokemon heal faster when unconscious or asleep--thus, they faint easily from pain or exhaustion in order to recuperate.

During evolution, a Pokemon converts itself into energy and reforms itself. Evolution is optional, and a Pokemon can choose if and when it evolves. Evolution is triggered by both an environmental circumstance (ex: winning a battle), and by the Pokemon storing up energy over time until it has enough to transform.

Stress evolutions are when a Pokemon evolves prematurally in order to win a battle or when they’re in a life-or-death situation. This can result in the evolution being smaller than normal and possibly weaker as well.

“Trade evolutions” are a loose grouping of Pokemon that typically evolve when they start working with a new trainer. The exact reasons for the evolution varies by individual, and therefore can have multiple causes.

Ex: a Pokemon may evolve after it learns something from someone else. While the easiest way to achieve this is through trade, they may also evolve by training under a wiser, older Pokemon.

Trade evolutions are somewhat rare in the wild, but not unheard of.

Pokemon that evolve via stones cannot store enough energy to evolve naturally. The stones contain extra energy that they can tap into in order to aid in evolution.

Everstones work similar to sponges; they absorb the extra energy a Pokemon would normally store up to evolve, thus preventing them from doing so. They’re mostly used for medical purposes (as a Pokemon evolving when badly injured could worsen its injuries) and to help prevent stress evolutions in Pokemon that don’t want to evolve.

Pokemon types are based on the type of energy they utilize, rather than moves or appearance. Ex: Charizard is not dragon-type despite looking like a dragon because it doesn’t use dragon-type energy. New energies are discovered all the time and Pokemon are reclassified as needed.

Pokemon typing also changes as they (Darwinian) evolve. A Pokemon that’s normal/grass used to be normal-type, has started to gain grass-typing, and will eventually be only grass-type.

Humans are descended from Pokemon. They used to be psychic-type before becoming normal-type and then losing their typing all together. At this point they no longer are energy-based nor do they lay eggs, so they’re considered a separate-but-related family.

This is why some people still show psychic powers; those abilities never completely went away in some bloodlines.

Pokemon have been domesticated for so long that there’s actually no such thing as a “wild” Pokemon anymore (with the exception of legendaries). Wild Pokemon are technically feral, and any given Pokemon will quickly adapt to living with humans if caught.

Pokemon used to look different hundreds of years ago, and have slowly undergone Darwinian evolution over time as they were domesticated.

“Most trainers will legendaries shortly after their journey starts” statistic false. Most trainers will see no legendaries in their lifetimes. Ash Ketchum, who’s seen every single legendary in existence, is an outlier and should not be counted

However, areas where legendaries are known to live are oftentimes marked as no-catch conservation areas. People will oftentime travel to these parks to admire “common” legendaries (such as the bird trio) in their natural habitats.

Battles

Not knocking out a Pokemon you’re trying to capture is more of a honored rule than a law. The reason it’s done is to give the Pokemon ample time to flee--otherwise, someone may one-shot a Pokemon that doesn’t want a trainer, resulting in the Pokemon being unfairly knocked out and the trainer wasting their time.

If you give the Pokemon time to flee and it chooses to stay and fight, it’s potentially interested in accepting you as a trainer and you just have to prove yourself. If it flees, you should leave it alone.

Pokemon used for battles are specifically trained to not cause permanent harm or injury to their opponents (ex: that fire blast isn’t as hot as it could be, so it’ll only cause minor burns instead of third-degree ones). While the attacks used might look violent and cause some pain, serious injuries are very rare.

Wild Pokemon are also pretty good at restraining themselves if they’re just battling for fun or to test a trainer. They will not, however, restrain themselves if they feel threatened or are hunting. Trainers are advised to use caution when fighting wild Pokemon and return their Pokemon to their balls if necessary.

Psychic-types (Mr. Mime especially) are used to create protective barriers around arenas/trainers to protect people from flying debris and stray attacks.

Refs always have a few Pokemon on hand that know moves like stun spore or sleep powder in order to stop any fights that get out of hand.

Pokeballs

While some trainers different Pokemon by using different types of Pokeballs, decorating them is also a popular way to do it. Some people draw symbols or initials on the buttons, some add stickers, some paint them, ect.

Stores also sell semi-transparent hard shells that snap over the balls. These come in different colors and designs, so you can have a Pokeball that has a galaxy design on top instead of plain red if you want.

Most trainers keep about 40 some Pokemon or less, which they rotate between their party, the PC, and daycares/Pokemon sitters to keep them enriched and active. Some people keep more, but they generally spend all of their time caring for them and therefore aren’t trainers.

The general rule of thumb is to not leave a Pokemon in the PC for more than two weeks. If you fail to take them out after a month, they will be automatically removed and released back into the wild.

Pokeballs create little miniature simulations of nature, making them feel bigger on the inside. Different types of pokeballs have different or more advanced simulations, which may increase how much a Pokemon likes being in it.

Pokeballs create an invisible “tag” for the Pokemon by altering their energy when they’re first caught. These tags affect nothing, but Pokeballs are programmed to automatically check for one before they’ll activate.

Many poachers and other illegal groups produce their own illegal Pokeballs that do not check for tags before capture.

If a Pokeball breaks, it automatically releases the Pokemon inside and removes their tag.

Tags fade after about a month to allow for other trainers to capture a Pokemon after it’s been permanently released. The tag is automatically refreshed every time a Pokemon is brought back into its ball.

The standard Pokeball pattern is based off of the patterns of the Foongus line. Pokemon are very attracted to their markings, so the balls are painted the same to make the Pokemon like them more.

Eggs

Rather than combining genetics, Pokemon reproduce by combining their energy together (this looks a bit like two Pokemon evolving at the same time). Because of this, they lack reproductive organs and chromosomes.

Gender is a loosely defined concept for them. Pokemon can change their sex upon evolution if they want to, and some will change their sex over time (ex: legendaries are usually genderless, but will gain a sex to breed and then lose it again afterward).

If a Pokemon doesn’t display sexual dimorphism, the only way to determine their sex is to have a Pokemon Center do a blood test.

Eggs aren’t laid, but created. The pregnant Pokemon fosters energy in their body. When ready they separate the extra energy from themselves (once again, looks a bit like evolution), which forms into the egg. This causes them no pain, and means they have short gestation periods.

This also means Pokemon never look pregnant. The only way to tell is by getting them tested or paying attention to changes in behavior. Many trainers end up with eggs out of nowhere because they had no idea one of their Pokemon was pregnant to begin with.

In the wild, some species of Pokemon will lay hundreds of eggs (such as fish and bug Pokemon) to ensure their survival. In captivity, Pokemon rarely create more than 1 or 2 eggs at a time, likely because they understand their young are safe with their trainers.

Pokemon develop more quickly in their eggs than IRL animals. They can technically hatch shortly after the egg is made, but they usually spend extra time inside maturing. By the time the egg hatches, the baby already has fur/feathers/whatever, and can walk and eat solid food. This helps ensure their survival against predators.

Young Pokemon are differentiated by being “mature” or “immature”; an immature Pokemon will still gradually grow and change appearance, while a mature one is fully grown until it evolves. A Pokemon cannot evolve until it’s considered mature (excluding mega evolution for single-stagers).

To use Vulpix as a canon example: a newly hatched immature Vulpix is about 8 in tall and has one white tail. A mature Vulpix is about 2 ft tall and has six red tails.

In the wild, Pokemon mostly breed amongst their own species. The exception are Pokemon with uneven gender ratios (so if a Pokemon is 7:1 male vs female, the males will actively breed with anything in their egg group). Inter-species breeding among captive Pokemon is much more common, and usually based on the Pokemon’s personal preferences.

Hybridization in Pokemon born from two different parents is very rare, but it does happen from time to time. It’s more common in Pokemon that look similar or are distantly related.

“Perfect” hybrids, Pokemon that have equal amounts of traits from both parents as well as typing and abilities, are more sought after than shinies. They usually can’t breed due to their mix of energies.

[cynnied-writes]

Like Fire, HellFire

○ fandom: deltarune

○ characters: toriel | undyne | asgore | susie | kris

○ genre/warnings: pure angst | hurt/little comfort | major character death | vague descriptions of violence and injuries

○ tags: chapter 3 weird route predictions | psychological trauma | immolation | some religious imagery | delusions & hallucinations

○ word count: 4k

→ summary: a mother's job is to protect her children no matter what. oh, how easy it is to corrupt such a noble cause.

○ note: hey. you wanna read something fucked up? take snowgrave but turn up the heat.

As an adult, Toriel knew that life was messy.

Everything that had seemed oh so simple in her youth had, with time, revealed itself to be a complicated web of… of madness. If she’s being honest. Her life, especially. Some days she wished she could turn back to the clock to where the world was much easier to manage.

So, when she woke up in a fantasy world, one filled with happenings reminiscent of Saturday morning cartoons, for the first time in years, she was giddy.

Wandering around the marvellous land alone for the first hour or so, she allowed herself to indulge in every whimsical folly. To speak at length with the world’s cartoony residents. To revel in the way the deep plum of the wonderous, pinafore dress twirled around her ankles when she spun. Even when she came across her candy-coloured child, she joked around with them as she’d never done before.

Because her life in this dreamscape is all relatively simple, isn’t it?

Even in this topsy-turvy world of peculiar people and fantastical battles, her only goal is to protect Kris and their friends. But fortunately, this world has granted her a magnificent power.

With but a single thought, she can conjure balls of flames in her palms and wield them with devastating accuracy. FatesFlame is what it is. Or, at least, that’s what Kris called it when they asked her to protect them. Which she did without fail.

Even though their enemy’s screams of anguish were… unsettling, to say the least. They’re not the kinds of sounds that one easily forgets. No, if it were not for the lively victory tune that drowned out the tormented cries, then she would’ve gone mad ages ago. But, then again, maybe she already had…

No matter.

None of this was real anyhow.

It couldn’t be. In real life, she doesn’t have magic. Her sweet Kris certainly wasn’t blue. Susie wasn’t pink. And she would’ve remembered a fellow goat monster family moving into their tiny town. Though Toriel did have to admit, Ralsei’s horns reminded her of something. But she digresses. None of any of this was real.

The screams weren’t real.

These battles they were fighting were make-believe, no actual harm done.

The screams weren’t real.

It’s just like in one of Asriel’s or Kris’ video games. She wasn’t hurting anyone; they’re not programmed to feel pain. To visually simulate it, yes. But not to actually feel it. To feel it so much that they felt the desperate need to scream.

The screams weren’t real.

The screams weren’t real.

Oh please, dear Angel above, please tell her the screams, the wails that resound within her mind, that haunt her every step, that are so loud she can barely hear anything but them. Please tell her they’re fake.

pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—It is quite lovely, though, to see Kris making friends.

To see them coming out of their shell, a thing she almost thought would never happen. See them lead their small team with confidence in their gait. To take charge during battles and do their best to get everyone out safely. Yes, the sight of it all just warmed her soul.

What was decidedly less lovely to see is the Chief of Police trying to turn her against her child.

Dressed in what reminded her of one of Kris’ Japanese sci-fi cartoons, Undyne frantically called out to her from across the way.

“Toriel, please, listen to me!” She said. Desperation dripped from every word as she clutched her hands to her chest before pointing a clawed finger at a stoic Kris. “I don’t know who that is. Or what that is, but it ain’t your kid. It’s not Kris. I don’t even think it’s completely human.”

“Do not call my child an it.” Toriel said through bared teeth, throwing out an arm to shield Kris from Undyne’s words. “And what’s that supposed to mean, not completely human? What else are they supposed to be?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not a person. Haven’t you realized what it’s been forcing you to do?” Then, throwing her arms open wide, she invited them to take a look at their surroundings. The reddish, golden hue that had overtaken the formerly colourful world. The glows of a thousand tiny fires. Her fires. “You’ve left this world in ruin. You’ve killed so many innocent people.”

“Innocent?” She gasped before raising her shaking voice. “They attacked us first!”

“I know, but, come on. Since when did you ever believe that violence is the answer? Even if someone hurts you first! I know we don’t get along all that well, but,” Undyne took a step back, running her hands through her ruby locks, shoulders heaving. She continued to plead, “I know you’d never do anything like this. Look behind you and you’ll see a path bathed in ashes from your flames, Toriel. You’ve hurt people. It has made you hurt people. A lot of people.”

But she hasn’t! None of this is real. Those people weren’t real. The…screams weren’t real either. So while it was true, she’d never condone any of her actions thus far in the real world; she had to believe that they didn’t count in this one. Because if they did… then what of the screams. the screams. the screams.

Her doubt must’ve shown on her face.

With a sense of finality and spark of hope in her eyes, Undyne thrust out an open hand toward her. “Just come with me, I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” Somehow, even in all this turmoil, a rueful smile tugged at her lips. “Asgore would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”

“And what about Kris?” Toriel asked, sparing a glance for her quiet child, though they didn’t look to her. Instead, with their mouth set in a pained grimace, they kept their gaze trained on Undyne. Their fist balled at their sides and their shoulders pulled tight. She knew when her Kris was afraid. And if Undyne was the cause of it? Then she didn’t need the other’s answer. “If you plan to harm a single hair on their head then I think I’ll have to decline that tempting offer.”

“Toriel, that is not your—”

“Silence!” She cried. Sure, to make the boom of her voice reach every ear in this world. And for it to echo throughout the spaces in between.“It matters not. Real or fake, they are my child, and you will regret making an enemy of me.”

“Fine,” The hand Undyne held out trembled before falling to her side as she hung her head. “You’ve made your choice.” Toriel could just make out the words she whispered to herself. “Sorry, Chief. I tried. Forgive me.”

When she lifted her head again, her eyes had hardened, and her lips pulled into a firm line. Then, holding out a hand, she stared them down as her digits glowed with bright cyan energy. That soon manifested a grandiose, jagged spear, several heads taller than she.

Tilting her chin high, she let her voice ring out loud and clear. “In that case. By the power of the seven seas, I, Undyne the Undying, Heroine of this world and Protector of all others, will strike you down. En guarde!”

The ensuing fight…Toriel honestly doesn’t know how long it lasted. It could’ve been quick. A brief collision of raw, unruly power. Or it could’ve spanned hours. A prolonged epic war of flames and tides. Toriel had no clue. She’d been hardly conscious of any of it. No, after the battle had officially begun, a glut of rage overcame her, blinded her.

It’d been a red mist that burned hotter than the fires of hell until it glowed in the grim twilight of her irises. A fury so fierce it couldn’t be contained where it was building in her chest. Something so furious that it lit her veins ablaze until there wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t burn with it. Not until she was the fire, and it was her. They were one. United in goal; to protect Kris and get Undyne out of the way. If not in the severity in their methods. She learned that last part the hard way.

Because when the battle was won, and the red mist slipped away, she struggled to put out the flames. They still clung to her hands and arms. Desperately trying to will the magic away as she’d done before, but something was different this time. Something was… wrong. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, fear sparked within her, but it wasn’t for anybody but herself.

By the time her flames finally settled, an unnerving silence had filled the area. There was no victory music to be heard. There wasn’t much of anything for her ears to cling to. No, they were quite useless. Her other senses, on the other hand, were being put to the test.

If it was possible to taste the feeling of burning, she was. Along with ashes and stuffy humid air. There wasn’t much to smell. Other than what was left of her flames. Though the scent of charred flesh slowly started to appear. But no. It wasn’t charred flesh. It was charred fis—

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring at her blackened paws until she whipped her head up to gaze across the way. To the spot where Undyne had been standing, proud and valiant, only to drop lower to find… to find…

Oh… That’s… Undyne’s… She’s… Did she…?

But how? How could she have been strong enough to do…that?

Oh…

Just before she had attacked, Kris hadn’t told her to use FatesFlame.

They had told her to use HeartBurn.

Huh…

That’s not a spell she remembered learning…

She looked back down at her hands. Curling and flexing them before bringing them in tightly to her chest.

Daring to gaze upon what was left of the noble heroine, now unrecognizable, she let out a sob.

Or was it a scream?

You’d think she’d be able to tell the difference.

“Kris.”

“Kris, sweetie.”

“I think.”

“I think it’s best if we make our way home now.”

Their adventure was over.

She was sure of it. Why?

Because her body ached and groaned as she woke up.

Her old bones and joints hadn’t complained once her escapades through the Dark World. It was nice. But after what she dreamt she’d done to Undyne, she’s glad to be back in reality. Just a bad dream, nothing more.

Twin groans chorused from the couch as Susie and Kris shook out and stretched their lanky, teenage limbs. A small smile grew on her lips.

Such sweet things. Toriel crossed her claws that Kris wouldn’t wander off while they made chocolate chip pancakes this time. Hopefully, the lure of sweets in a speedier form of gratification than a pie would be enough. Then they’d get dressed and ready for church. Come to think of it, she’d never seen Susie at a service before. She’d have to ask—

“Uh, Ms. Toriel?”

Taking a moment to rub the sleep out of her eyes before turning to respond to Kris’ guest. “Yes, Susie, dear?”

The hulking, scruffy teen raised a single clawed finger, pointing towards the front of the house. And though her shaggy, brown hair obscured her face, the quiet fear in her voice was clear as a bell. “Is Chief Undyne okay?”

Her soul skipped a pulse, and, for a moment, hellish flames covered her hands once more. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

She’d almost forgotten she’d called the police station last night. And that there was a potential threat lurking about the surrounding area. Her tires. Yes, it’s all coming back now. That dream must’ve affected her more than she thought. Making her confuse illusions and reality. From now on, she’d have to recount basic facts to herself. The most apparent differences between the Dark World and the real one.

Her mischievous yet never malicious Kris had smooth tanned skin, not a bright blue. Susie, who, while she’s sure the girl is strong, couldn't wield a giant axe and was this lovely rich lilac. She’d never met Ralsei before, and, as sweet as he was, she’d never see him again.

No matter what visions her mind was supplying her with, she couldn’t conjure a single flame if she tried. And Undyne? Undyne was alive. Maybe not unharmed, if Susie’s fearful tone was any indication. But she’d probably be nowhere near as wounded as she was in Toriel’s dream.

Her stomach dropped when she ultimately followed the line of Susie’s outstretched finger.

Backlit by the morning sun, Chief Undyne laid slumped in the doorway, her deep blue cap shielding her face. Lifeless. No. She didn’t know that. Not yet. Holding out a hand, signalling for the kids to stay put as she investigated.

Steps slow and hesitant, she approached Undyne. Calling out for her. “Chief Undyne? My dear, are you alright?” Praying that she’d wake before she reached her.

She didn’t.

Kneeling by her side, she gave Undyne a once over. It didn’t look like she was visibly hurt anywhere. (Her flesh, not covered in one giant scorch mark. Angel above, she could still hear the screams. She could still taste the ash. Could still smell—) No, no, no, no. That was a dream. A disturbing, haunting one. But a dream, nonetheless. Whatever was wrong with Undyne had nothing to do with her. Right? Right.

Reaching to remove Undyne’s hat, she faltered in lifting it from her head. Fearing the sight of her disfigured face. It’s fine. She’s being ridiculous. Foolish, even. Grow up, Tori. It was a dream. A dream. Just take the damn hat off. Squaring her shoulders and holding her breath, she took hold of the dark brim. Slowly raising the cap and revealed… Undyne’s sleeping face.

See! Worried about nothing. Though, now that she was taking a good look at the whole of her… Was her chest rising and falling at all?

Resting a paw on Undyne’s shoulders, she gently shook her shoulder as she called her name. “Chief Undyne?”

No response.

“Undyne, dear, could you wake up for me?”

Nothing still.

Toriel’s soul began to race.

“Undyne?”

Oh, Angel above. Please don’t tell me she’s—

“Somethin’ the matter, Tori?”

At the sound of Asgore’s southern drawl, she jolted. Looking up from Undyne’s unresponsive body to her ex-husband standing in her front yard. In what must’ve been his Saturday best, he held a bundle of rainflowers tied together with a sprig of common rue.

He, too, was backlit by the morning sun. Except, unlike how that light had shadowed Undyne, it lit his brawny form up. His long, blonde hair glowed, the sun making a pseudo halo of his shining locks and the curve of his horns. The extra rays fanning out around him, forming these wings of pure light. He looked like…like…like an angel.

And, despite all the praying she’s done, that notion didn’t fill her with the peace that she thought it should’ve.

“I, uh, she—” Toriel stammered as she pulled Undyne a smidge closer to herself. It’s not that she didn’t trust Asgore, well, that’s a whole other conversation, but it was rather more because she didn’t trust herself. Then, thankfully, Kris spoke up from behind her.

“Dad, Chief Undyne won’t wake up.”

In a split second, he shifted his disposition in a way she hadn’t seen him do in years. Like a light switch, one moment he was her bumbling, pushover ex and the next he was The Chief of the Police. Calm, cool, and collected. Entirely focused on the situation at hand.

Rushing forward and bounding up the front steps, he came to a stop just in front of her and Undyne, kneeling. His eyes hardened yet not unkind, never unkind. Finally, he asked, “What happened?”

Doing her best to compose her trembling voice, she tried to give a proper answer. Though it came out all in a rushed and jumbled mess. “We-we don’t exactly know. We all woke up and found her like this in the doorway. I have no clue what could’ve happened.”

Raising his hands up, he motioned for her to slow down. And then to take a breath. She gladly did both. “Alright, alright, then let’s start with the last thing you do know. Did you call Undyne here?”

“Yes.” He did always know the best questions to ask in times like this. Recalling her terror from last night, she caught his eyes and said, “There was something outside last night. Slashed my tires. I thought it was best to alert the authorities. Undyne said that’d she’d be over soon.”

“Then you all went to sleep? And none of you woke in the night?” She shook her head. Asgore lifted his gaze over her shoulder, arching an eyebrow. Kris and Susie must’ve answered in the same silent way. Considering that, he lowered them back down to Undyne soon after. Curling a finger, he brushed a knuckle along Undyne’s temple. “How odd, it feels like she has one hell of a fever. And none of you heard Undyne open the door? Or—”

“Asgore, I don’t think she’s breathing.”

The flowers he brought dropped to the deck. Quicker than Toriel could think or even blink, he had Undyne in his arms. Holding her close to his chest, she looked so small. Tinier than she’d ever seemed, even when she was a child.

Rambunctious little thing. Always following Asgore around while he patrolled. Stars in her eyes and wild ideas in her mind. Is it too late to regret not inviting her over more back then? She knew Asgore loved her like a daughter. But she’d been so busy with a toddling Asriel that she hadn’t thought to try to forge a bond. This never would’ve happened—

“Tori, are you with me? It’s gonna be alright. I’ll get her over to hospital. They’ll figure out what’s wrong. It might just be something going around. Mrs. Avis mentioned finding her son like this in the Library.” Asgore said, low and steady, from up above. He had stood up at some point. She didn’t know when. Great, she’s properly losing time now. “It’s going to be alright. Undyne’s made of stronger stuff than you’d think.”

“Berdly? Oh, the poor pet.” Grasping at the closest tangible thing, she pulled the bundle of rainflowers and rue to her chest as she rose to her feet. A much-needed lifeline. “Even if that’s so—It’s just—I feel responsible.”

“You saw something suspicious, and you reported it. Nothing wrong with that. This,” Asgore gazed down woefully at Undyne and sighed. “This unfortunately comes with the territory. Though, she’s still so young. I wish I was still—” Gulping down the rest of his sentence, he shook his head before meeting her eyes once more. His eyes softened, as they always did when he looked at her. Though this time, they were tinged with certain gentle tenderness. “But never mind that. Don’t feel guilty. You were just trying to protect the kids, yeah? Keep them safe?”

“Yes,” She answered, nodding. Though her mind was somewhere else. “I did what I thought what was best.”

“Then no one can blame you for this.” He turned to leave but paused midway. Then, leaning in close, he said, “Before I go, I know you’re pretty shaken by this but, please do try to make it to church. Even if it’s for the evenin’ service. I know it always made you feel better.”

All she could give him was a weak smile. “Thank you, Asgore.”

He gave a hearty one back. “Have a good day, Tori.”

A blink, and he was off with Undyne. Down the porch and across the lawn.

Another and he disappeared around the corner of their property’s towering hedges.

“Kris?”

“Susie?”

Neither answered, but she knew they were listening anyway.

“I think.”

“I think it’s best if we get some food into us,” Turning to finally face them. The children looked a shaken as she felt. “Yes?”

“Yeah, that sounds great, Miss T.” Her answering smile was just a touch too big to be all that genuine, too many teeth, but Toriel didn’t push. Not so subtly coughing into her fist, Susie shoved an elbow between Kris’ ribs. “What do you think, Kris?”

“Sounds good, Mom.”

“Perfect! How about you two go get cleaned up a bit and I’ll get started on the batter?”

“I get first dibs on the bathroom!” Susie said, more to Kris than to her, as she sped off. Leaving the two of them to soak in the welcome quiet they were left in.

It was much more straightforward, focusing on something as simple as making pancakes. Toriel knew the recipe off by heart. Sift together; One and a half cups of all-purpose flour, three and a half teaspoons of baking powder, a teaspoon of salt, a tablespoon of white sugar, and two dashes of cinnamon. Make a well in the bowl, pour in one and quarter cups of milk, three tablespoons of melted butter, and—oh, where did that egg go?

As she searched for where the lone egg had rolled off to, she offhandedly said, “It is rather unfortunate what happened to Chief Undyne.”

“Well,” Kris began, drawing out that last syllable as if they were considering something. “She did get in our way, didn’t she?”

Crack.

Pausing, clutching a now empty eggshell as the yolk fell into the pancake batter, she glanced over at Kris. Who, she realized, hadn’t moved an inch from where they first stood after waking up, staring blankly at the front door…?

“What was that, my child?” She asked, her voice light and wispy. Surely, she hadn’t heard what she thought she did. It’d be silly to believe that Kris knew such intimate details about her nightmare. Got in their way? Her Kris, they’d never disregard another person’s life so, so, flippantly.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna get something from my room.” They answered as if they were almost bored, still drilling holes into their front door. Until… Until they finally turned their head, locked eyes with her and simply said, “Proceed.”

In a blink, they disappeared up the stairs. Thumping and bumping all the way as all teenagers did. Leaving Toriel to stare, wide-eyed, at the vacant space where they used to be but not seeing a damn thing. The fur on her nape and along the edges of her arms were raised, on high alert.

Unconsciously, she drew her clenched paws in towards her chest. She dared to look down at them. And, for a moment that lasted both a second and an eternity, they were on fire. And they just wouldn’t go out. No matter how hard she tried.

The infernal flames blackened her fur and began to burn the sleeves of her nightgown. Inching farther and farther up her arms. If she couldn’t extinguish them, they’d consume her whole. She wouldn’t be able to escape the screams. the screams.the screams.the screams. the flames. the flames. the flames. please. please. please.

They’re gone.

Just like that, they were gone.

Were they ever there in the first place?

Hurriedly looking all around her, she dashed over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed water in her face. Then, gripping the sides of the sink deathly tight (Her paws, still a pristine, pearly white. How?), she took several deep breaths.

Finish the damn pancakes, Tori.

And she did. And they were perfect.

They were light, fluffy golden disks polka-dotted with chocolate chips for the hell of it. And, by the ways Susie and Kris scarfed them down, they must’ve tasted amazing. Some of her best work.

Toriel wouldn’t have known either way. Not about the pancakes. Her morning cup of tea. The BLTs she made Susie and Kris for lunch. Her afternoon cup of tea. The shepherd’s pie they had for dinner. Nor the sip of fake wine they had at church or the bottle of genuine wine she had once Kris had gone to bed.

It didn’t matter.

It all tasted like ash.

Thank you so much for making it to the end, I hope you enjoyed (?) reading this. Not sure if that's the right word to use when I spent the last 4 thousand words doling out psychic damage like I'm an Alakazam, but, oh well.

Either way, I would be forever pleased if you left a reply or even reblogged this! Seriously, even if only to ask me to turn on my location for a little chat, I don't mind. Go wild.

[hex-obsession]

Silver Lining - Two

word count- 2,259

content warning- language, angst, indirect s**cidal thought

____________________________________________

Crows cawing, your eyes open just enough to hazily make out the all too familiar color of your room.

“Early bird gets the worm, you know,” a familiar voice murmurs. Pushing off the wall to your right, your body slides diagonally over your bed, your head dangling off the side. Upside down, Cheryl is slumped against your door frame, arms and legs crossed. Brazen as usual, just the way you loved her. You held your own in most regards but Cheryl was always there when you least expected it and needed her most. You swear there were a halo atop that adorable shaggy blonde head of hers. And not one of those tacky event items either.

“Like I’d get anything any time of day with all the birds around here.” A tickling squeeze builds in your abdomen, branching up your neck to your cheeks which now had a telling pink glow.

“So you gonna talk to old lover boy yet or what?”

You jolt forward and whip around fast enough to make any killer miss a swing. Your response is unnecessary as she’s already smirking devilishly, aware of what she’s doing. She might have been your closest friend but that did not stop her from tormenting you, or anyone else that crossed her path. All in good fun and love, of course. It went without saying that you enjoyed it and she knew when it was, rarely, time to pack it up.

Raising her eyebrows, she leans back and throws her hands up. “I’m just saying, if you don’t, you might lose your chance. That’s all I’m saying,” quieter now.

You sighed. She was right. You weren’t the only one who took a liking to Leon. But, unlike you, Yun-Jin did not hide her feelings, from anyone for any reason, ever. Of course, everyone thought he was charismatic and most, undeniably handsome. That was common knowledge. You ran out of things to talk about in a place like this, and secrets were few and far between. There was no reason to hide here. This was your foreseeable future, together. There was no getting out, no changing things. Being open and sharing everything together made your day to day bearable. The connections you lost in your old lives left gaping holes, but together as one tightly knit, weird, fucked up family, you helped fill the voids. Some took longer than others to accept that fate, and there were some inevitable hiccups, but everyone came around eventually.

Anyone who wasn’t blind could see the attraction Yun-Jin had for the newest addition to your group. Placing her hands on him in conversation whenever she got the chance, laughing a little too hard at the things he said, biting her bottom lip and smiling at him when he talked. You’d even caught her pecking his cheek playfully here and there. He’d always smile and look away, as if it were a game. Leon always had a sultry attitude to him, a ladies' man no doubt. Subtly flirting with everyone was just commonplace for him. That was part of the reason you held back. Fearing you missed your chance and someone else had filled the role you longed to be in. Maybe it was your fear of rejection or abandonment, or not wanting to lose something this important in a world as cruel and bare this. You were subconsciously working hard to convince him you were only a friend. Which you were, definitely friends. Close even, given the circumstances. Trauma bonding does one hell of a number to the timeline of friendship. Still, you sensed zero difference in his behavior toward you versus the others. Which, admittedly, was quite the letdown. Nonetheless, you had nothing to lose by casually admitting your feelings for him. Keep it light and airy and there would be no reason for things to change on the chance he didn’t feel the same. After all, you surely weren’t the only one with a harmless little crush. That’s all it was. Right? So what if you constantly day-dream about him holding you so close he might consume you, kissing you with four times the passion the Notebook tried to capture, never leaving your side regardless of what the future held. His taste, his smell… what his cock would feel like ramming into your cervix. Your brain was one giant knot, constantly distracting you and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it. Except tell him, but keep it simple.

By your calculations, it was November 18th. You’d been keeping track, not sure if it made things better or worse. Your third anniversary in this place was not far off. Despite being a literal nightmare, it had its perks. Your need for food was no more, as well as your other bodily needs. Sickness was a quickly forgotten annoyance of the past. You stayed in this eerily perfect state. Makeup never crusty, hair never oily and always smelling of your favorite fruit. The dirt and blood you’d acquire during trials magically disappeared upon return. You had a handful of outfits to rotate but there was no real need. Another upside, there were no severe temperatures here. Jackets, shorts, sandals, snow boots if you were Nea. You were always mostly comfortable. Even on Ormond where snow blanketed the ground, those gusts of wind should have sent chills right through you, but they didn’t. It felt like living in a dream or a, simulation. Just, where you’re hunted all day and night for the rest of your existence. At least death wasn’t permanent. Sometimes you’d wish it was, just to escape.

Several months have passed since Leon and Jill were introduced to your world. You had inside jokes and more close calls than you could both count. You were a damn good team and got along smoother than melted butter. What were you waiting for? You inhaled sharply and broke your stare out the window.

“I’m gonna do it.”

To no avail, your deep breaths failed to remedy the painful pounding in your chest, or the heat radiating from your face. Nevertheless, you marched out to the campfire to seek out Yun-Jin. As selfish as you wanted to be with Leon, she was your friend, and you held that in high regard. She was easy to spot in a crowd given her loud attire, but wasn’t around the fire. Which lead to your next realization; neither was Leon. Your throat tightened, heart still pounding. You set off a little too quickly to find her, or them. First stop was Ace’s shack. Judging based on appearances, you figured he would be one of the last people she associated with. Quite the opposite, they were dear friends. Not connected at the hip per se, like her and Claudette, but they related to one another's childhoods. Trauma bonding, can't beat it. To your dismay, the shack was empty, a seed of despair planting in your stomach. Maintaining the most convincing composure you could, you continue your search. Heading left down the line of shacks, robust laughter grows closer. You’d know that laugh anywhere. Cutting through the row, David and Felix are reclined under a tree. They were one of the few monogamous couples among you. The others being Nancy and Steve, and Adam and Zarina. You understood the allure of being romantically involved with more than one person, especially given your less-than-ideal situation, but it wasn’t for you.

“Hi y/n!” Felix shouted toward you.

Not wanting to stop and chat given your current objective, you flashed a cheeky smile and waved to them. Before they could get another word out, you dipped back behind the row of houses. Nerves getting the best of you, you parted your lips to breathe through your mouth. Every breath burned your lungs, realizing now all the times you brushed off your feelings have come back to haunt you. You should never have waited this long. At this point you would be more than willing, desperate, to share Leon. Refusing to let your anxiety get the best of you, you ball your fists and dig your nails into your palms to get a grip on yourself. There was one more place they could possibly be. A sliver of premature acceptance wedged itself into your train of thought as you trudged toward your own shack. Leon’s was adjacent to yours. Feeling foolish for not checking earlier, you round the corner to the opening. As much as you wish you could close your eyes, they were pinned open with anticipation. Looking up from your feet you were shocked to see an empty room before you. Relief and confusion replace your foreboding. Too much time had already been wasted, so you return to the campfire.

“Hey, have you seen Leon or Yun-Jin anywhere?” you, as calmly as possible, ask Élodie.

“They got pulled a little bit ago babe.” She was intently focused on Jane, her concentration not broken. “Which do you like more, up or down?” her gaze still fixated on Jane.

You have to either keep the courage you finally mustered until they get back or give yourself emotional whiplash by releasing until they do. You hesitate for a moment, but to hide your disappointment you quickly retort, “Up, definitely up. Gotta distract the killer with that beautiful face you know?”

“Like they're looking at her face and not that dumptruck ass!” Élodie howls. Jane facetiously puts her fingertips to her chin and looks upward, a façade of innocence no one here would ever buy. You can't help but giggle despite your inner turmoil.

“Well hey,” you add through chuckles, “when they're back can you please send her my way?”

“Sure thing babe,” Élodie assures, finally turning to meet your gaze.

A horrible nauseating mix of dismal, relieving, lewd thoughts of Leon swirl in your mind as you wait for Yun-Jin to step into the doorway. You knew you liked him but holy shit, where did this come from? The realization slapped you in the face. Try to blame infatuation all you want, not that you did, but it was so painfully evident now you were dumbfounded.

A soft knock jerked you out of your thoughts. “Hiya y/n, what's going on?”

Her delicate eyes effortlessly comforted you from across the room.

“I...” your eyes now glued to the floor beneath your feet, a reservoir of tears barely being held back, “I need to know how you feel about Leon.” Your nerves went haywire just uttering his name to her. An icy splash of chills surged from your head to your feet as your chest panged with dread.

“Well of course I like him,” her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

All that could escape your mouth was, “Oh.” Emptiness, despair replacing the jealous unease you felt before. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, feelings that danced around menacingly finally coming to a head.

At the sight of your distress, she rushed to sit next to you. “Honey, what’s going on?” her voice barely above a whisper.

You were ashamed for breaking down in front of her, afraid of guilting her for something that was not her fault, and now terrified Leon might follow her here, only to find you undone over him. You jerk your head up to face her and blurt out, “Jinny I think I love him,” face sopping wet with untouched tears.

She raises her eyebrows and smiles at you. “Honey I have fun toying with him all in good nature but there’s no connection there.” Your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Sure, I’ll admit he’s attractive, who wouldn’t, but I have nowhere near the same feelings for him that you evidently do.” She uses both hands to cup your face and pushes as much wetness as she can aside with her thumbs. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Not only to me but to him!” Despite being similar in age, she feels like a mother to you. Caring for a child, your own or not, will do that to you. That’s not a trait you lose over time.

“I’m so afraid,” you softly whimper, “of what he would say, what you would say.” You're picking at your cuticles, a habit you acquired during puberty as an outlet for your overwhelming feelings.

She wraps her arms around you, carefully as to not tarnish her jacket with tears, which would definitely stain the material. “I was just having a little fun, and from what I’ve gathered, he was more so allowing it than participating. You know I love you all to death but I’m not looking for anything like that, definitely not here.” She gives you a squeeze, and suddenly you can breathe again, the air around you no longer dense and difficult to swallow. “Honey, go get him.”

“Oh Jesus, let me fix myself a little first at least,” the sudden relief causing you to laugh involuntarily.

You were grateful disease and ailments didn’t exist outside of the trials, if they had you're sure you would've had an aneurysm from the stress you went through in a matter of an hour. Yun-Jin left you to your thoughts, which were now solely you and Leon together, doing anything and everything you could think of. The rest of the day you contemplated telling him, more so, how to. Thankfully you didn’t have any trials together, you were far too disorganized for that right now. “Tomorrow,” you promise yourself. Nothing like a clear head and a night’s rest to help you be your most collected, confident self.

____________________________________________

Silver Lining masterlist

[fag4dykestobin]

YOU'RE FINE!! i have been posting them with no explanation at all. this will be under a cut because i have a feeling it might get long

so blaseball was (RIP) an absurdist horror fantasy baseball simulator that had a little over a dozen teams with ai players play games every hour, on the hour, monday-friday, with saturday being the playoffs, and sunday being the election (we'll get there). it had themes of death and sacrifice and rebelling against the system and i miss it dearly every single day. folds my hands. um. where do i start. hmmmm. games looked like this!

on the left you have the teams and their scores. in the middle you have the current pitcher and batter, balls, strikes, outs, etc. and then the game log on the right! very minimalist but it gets everything across. there were different weather types that could have some effect on the games; peanut weather had peanut rain falling from the sky, and depending on whether a player was allergic or not, they had a chance to swallow a peanut and get buffed or nerfed. bird weather had birds. solar eclipses could incinerate players, etc.

and incineration was a big thing. if a player got incinerated they were gone for good* and immediately replaced by another randomly generated player. and the thing about these players. this was all we had of them

(featuring my bestie boyf <3 riv i loved them so much)

just their name, stars, and some random fun facts. but people got VERY attached, especially if it was a fun name like boyfrind monreal, or jessica telephone, or jaylen hotdogfingers

so blaseball kind of evolved to have a very creative fanbase that lored all of their characters together, getting very attached to numbers on the screen that might get fucked up at any moment

there was of course also the story that the devs were trying to tell, but it was very collaborative with the fanbase; it was kind of like a giant and messy ttrpg, with the devs as the gm. becase fans got to influence the story through the elections!

basically, you bet on games with fake coins, and you use your winnings to buy vote tickets, and you use those tickets for two things: decrees, and blessings. decrees changed the fundamental rules of blaseball. for example, in season 3, these were the decrees:

and blessings were kind of like a raffle that you enter in on behalf of the team you're a fan of; they were things that effect a single team, and if you vote for them, your team has a chance to win it. these were some blessings in season 12!

and during it all, there were the blaseball gods, bickering and trying to control the league, usually directly opposed to the fans (us!). both eras that we got to experience in full were about killing the god that ruled over that era

so. when it comes to a stranger things au. i think we throw some of this out the window LMAO. specifically the whole election thing, i don;t think fans will play a role in this at all... it will be player focused. but i have some ideas on how it could work you know. i can see it play out in my brain.

god i didn't even touch on a lot of stuff, this is really only tip of the iceberg on what makes blaseball so fun and interesting, but if you want to know more you can always dm me! and @devondespresso i saw you reblog my other post and ask what blaseball is so :) here! i hope this made some sort of sense lol. feel free to ask any clarifying questions!

(this is @scoopertroopers) this wqhole time... i thought you were just spelling baseball wrong. what the fukc

CRYING LAUGHING. no i am talking about the absurdist horror fantasy baseball simulator that has consumed my life for 3 years <3

[gospelofme]

The Parent-Teacher Conference

Thanks to @leias-left-hair-bun for the inspiration!

Jesse x female Twi’lek reader

“Nope, I’m not going this time! I went last time.” You reminded your husband over the comm. You were going through a To Do List you had made, you had to make sure you’d completed everything before the trial tomorrow.

“But baby, you’re so much better at that than me!” Jesse countered, he used that phrase a lot. Sometimes it was true. But not today.

“Hon, it’s just sitting down with Kasen’s teacher while she tells you that he’s doing okay in her class. She’ll probably tell you something he needs to work on, maybe he’s too talkative, maybe not talkative enough, I don’t know. Where did I put those crime scene photos......oh wait they’re in here already.” You heard Jesse inhale to make another excuse, but you were ready for him.

“Now remember babe, the conference is at 3pm or 1500 your time. You’ll do awesome! I love you!” You made kiss sounds into the comm and ended the conversation.

“Couldn’t get out of it?” Fives asked, him and Echo were gearing up for a friendly game of squash. And by friendly, chances are they’d end up bruised and sore after. They’d discovered the game after watching Obiwan play against Cody and decided to try it themselves. The idea of trying to hit each other with a ball smacked off the wall appealed to them more.

“Nope.” Jesse looked defeated, he never knew what to say at those things. But, he had made you go to the last three.

At 2:45pm, Jesse was sitting in the hallway outside his son’s classroom. Kasen sat next to him reading a book, his foot knocking against his father’s armored calf. A couple of the other parents in the hall gave Jesse nervous glances, it wasn’t every day they saw a fully armored and helmeted ARC Trooper sitting on a bench meant for kids.

“Is he awake?” He heard on dad whisper to another. Jesse was leaning back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. The look his visor had seemed to be staring down the rest of the parents waiting in the hall. The intimidating visor worked wonders in the principal’s office and with the other teachers, but it had been a while since he’d been to this teacher’s office.

“I don’t know. It looks like he’s staring over here though.” The other dad whispered back. Jesse smirked under his helmet. He actually was busy watching Echo and Fives destroy each other in their friendly squash game via a live feed from Kix. Kasen asked to watch, Jesse transferring the helmet over to his son.

“Hey Uncle Kix!! Who’s winning?”

“Kasen.” A female voice made Jesse sit up, it was time. He took his helmet back from Kasen and placed it back on.

“Come on bud.” He nudged his youngest, who looked nervous. Jesse stood and walked passed the young teacher as she stood aside for them. Kasen hurried to a chair and sat down.

“It’s nice to see you again Mr. Victoire. Your wife has kept you up to date with Kasen’s time in my class yes?” The teacher asked as she sat down behind her desk, Jesse took the seat in front of the desk.

“Uhm, yeah she’s given me the cliff note version.” He said with a shrug.

“Well I’ll start with the good then.” The teacher propped a datapad up on her desk and angled it for Jesse to look at it.

“As you can see, his grades have gone up since the last semester. Especially in reading. Math is going up slowly as well. He’s always been good with science.” The teacher started, this wasn’t so bad. Jesse could do more of these if they were all just looking at his kid’s grades. But then the teacher abruptly jumped into test score averages and where Kasen was in terms of class percentage. It quickly evolved into gibberish.

“Uhhhh...is that good?” Jesse asked after the teacher explained standardized testing and where Kasen was in terms of the educational standards. He looked down at Kasen, so looked just as lost. The teacher gave a smirk.

“It’s a little below average, but not by much. Kasen knows the material, based on his homework grades. But he’s not a good test taker. Which is normal. Not many kids are. I wasn’t. I think he second guesses his answers or blanks sometimes.” This was the part Jesse was dreading. His tests weren’t written. His tests were graded but only in a sense of life or death (simulated and not).

“It’s okay though,” the teacher soothed, picking up on the ARC Trooper’s uncertainty. She had to rely on his tone of voice since he was helmeted. Usually she’d require that he remove his helmet, but she knew it could be a sense of comfort.

“I’m going to start handing out practice tests to the kids who have testing anxiety. Both to do in class and at home. They’re not graded, and it’s not going to be the same test questions, but the material is going to be the same.” She explained, Jesse gave a nod.

“Well, if that’s everything, then...” Jesse stated, pushing his chair back. Kasen quickly grabbing his bag.

“Not quite.” Jesse pulled his chair back in and Kasen’s bag dropped to the floor with a thump.

“Usually I have issues getting kids to stop chatting in class, but Kasen doesn’t talk much at all. Is he a shy kid?” The teacher asked. Jesse gave Kasen a look, which was hidden behind his helmet but he knew his kid saw it.

“Not at home.” Jesse replied. He knew Kasen had issues with some of the other students in his classes. The teacher sighed.

“I know he has gotten into fights. I’ve tried to discipline those students when I see the teasing or fighting happen, but I don’t always catch it.” The woman admitted. She sounded defeated.

“I know his sister steps in and has fought the bullies, but I’m worried about what happens when she ages out of this school.” She added. Jesse and you had worried the same. Kasen could defend himself if he needed, but he wasn’t one to fight first.

“Mr. Victoire?” The teacher’s voice prodded him out of his thoughts. “I have a feeling Kasen’s lack of class participation is due to the students who make fun of him, to put it bluntly. Now, I plan to discuss this with those parents, but perhaps you can work on building Kasen’s confidence.” Jesse gave a nod but still kept his eyes on his kid. Kasen felt his father’s stare and tensed up. These things made him uncomfortable. He relaxed when his father’s hand ruffled his hair.

“Which kids are they? If they’re out in the hall, will you point them out?” Jesse asked, his voice gentle but stern.

“Uhm, sir, I don’t think I can let you intimidate the children...” the teacher began, uncertainly. Jesse sighed.

“Kasen is too good of a kid to point them out. But I’ll think of something. It’s been a good conference, thanks Mrs....?”

“Fortner.” The teacher answered, giving up. She led them to the door and prayed nothing happened that would require her to call the Coruscant Guard. She called the other student and the door closed.

Jesse waited as his son took a homework book out of his locker, his helmeted gaze landing on each of the parents and students still gathered. He wasn’t sure which ones were the culprits, but he decided to just give each a stern stare down. Wolffe would be proud he felt. He’d taken lessons on how to stare intimidatingly while helmeted from him.

“Dad, can we go home now.” Kasen asked.

“Yup, just checking out who all is in your class.” He picked Kasen up, making it crystal clear he was his father.

“I knew he was looking at us!” The father from earlier whispered to the other dad.

“So, you’re going to tell me which kids are being little kriff heads right?” He said clearly as he walked passed the other students and parents gathered. He noted two boys who shifted nervously and refused to look at Kasen. Jesse smirked.

Tag List

@jgvfhl @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun

@baby-queen-zen @halzore @escapedthesarlacc

[creepypasta-mfs]

hey! I really like your blog so far ! Do you think you could write hcs for Ben, Dark, EJ, and Jeff with an s/o? I know its not very specific, just anything u got eould be nice 😅

hi!! thank u sm 💕 i can definitely do that

BEN Drowned

× honestly not a bad boyfriend at all

× well, for the most part

× in the beginning, he's still an ass

× he might poke fun at the little insecurities you have, definitely your height if you're shorter than him

× he can sometimes take it a bit too far, but he'll quickly learn your limits

× the times when he does push things a bit too far, he does the most to make up for it

× need a hug? of course. A twelve page written apology? Duh. Want him to make an absolute fool of himself in front of the whole house to make it even? Consider it done

× as mentioned before, he's super secretive and guarded. Takes a l o n g time to break down those walls, but once you do he's open about everything

× "anyway, here's my auto biography of every traumatic event I've ever been through, there will be a quiz over this so please take notes"

× also pretty touch starved, so any physical affection you give out is greatly appreciated

× like you have no idea

× very awkward when reciprocating it though, he's has little to no experience when it comes to this, so just give him some time to adjust

× his idea of a date is just taking a long ass nap together and ordering food

× wake up from nap #1, eat copious amounts of chinese take-out, then move on to nap #2

× will appreciate you forever if you just sit with him while he plays video games

× also enjoys when you show genuine interest in it and ask him questions about what he's doing and stuff

× would prefer for you to sit behind him and draw patterns on his back and talk to him, or scratch behind his ears

× likes playing with your hair and having his hair played with, will braid it if you allow him to

× expect a lot of just lazing around his room, and having those sleepy, half awake conversations, those are his favorites

× over time he drops the snarky attitude and mean-ish teasing and becomes more soft and lighthearted, only around his s/o though

Dark Link

× so you've somehow managed to make this little ball of angst like you

× g o o d l u c k

× so used to only thinking of himself and doing things that only benefit him, having to take another person into consideration is a big change for him

× really caught him off guard when he realised he actually c a r e d about somebody

× like damn this has never happened before

× doesn't really understand what "romance" is

× he tries his best, but can only really show his feelings through gifts

× what do you mean buying them a whole new wardrobe isn't equivalent to saying "I love you" ??

× isn't good with his words, but he makes an effort

× "your face.. It looks,.. Nice today? Did I do that right??"

× will probably start petty, completely not serious fights with you when he's got nothing better to do

× I hope you have a lot of patience, because he knows exactly how to get on your nerves and loves seeing you frustrated

× only when he's the reason though. Anyone or anything else that causes you any trouble best be prepared to catch these hands

× is surprisingly supportive when it comes to any interests you might have

× tries to show you that he listens to what you like and don't like, so he'll buy you things related to your hobbies

× those super expensive paints you've been wanting? They're yours now. Want to learn to play this instrument but don't have the money for it? Now you do

× giving gifts is his thing, but attention and affection are definitely his love language

× he's so conflicted because he wants you to spend time doing the things you like, the stuff he's gotten for you, but at the same time he needs you to focus on him and him only, ya know?

× is not above pouting and fake crying to obtain your undivided attention

Eyeless Jack

× a h h h h

× he probably low key panicked when he figured out he caught feelings for you

× has very little memory of ever feeling anything like this so he has no clue how to react

× you'll have to guide him through everything, especially when it comes to physical contact

× he's just so big and doesn't know his own strength, and you're so small and fragile, how does he avoid crushing you??

× he's going to need a lot of reassurance and positive feedback before he's able to fully trust himself to initiate affection on his own

× definitely searches the internet for advice on being a good significant other

× his search history

- how to be a good boyfriend

- definition of affection

- how to care for your tiny human

- how to know if you're in love wiki how

× lmao he's absolutely hopeless

× will lend you his clothes anytime, without you even asking. And he'll definitely want you to lend him something of yours, doesn't matter to him what it is

× likes that your scent rubs off on his clothes and vice versa, its very comforting

× won't outright ask for it, but likes scratches

× this has also been done to death, but will purr if you scratch the spot just behind his ears or between his shoulder blades

× has issues when it comes to verbally expressing his appreciation and love for his s/o, but he shows it through making sure they have everything they need or want, checking to make sure they've eaten that day, have had enough water, etc.

Jeff the Killer

× little gremlin boi

× will find amusement in scaring the hell out of his s/o

× stands over them in their bed at night, will wait as long as he needs for them to wake up and have a mini heart attack

× doesn't ever mean any harm though

× acts very distant in front of other people but very touchy when alone with them

× just likes putting his hands on their face to feel their skin, likes comparing how tough and scarred his skin is to the smoothness of theirs

× playfighting is his favorite past time, doesn't matter what his s/o is doing at the moment, they better be prepared to throw down at any time

× will give them obscure fighting tips that they will never need at any point in life

× "Street Smarts with Jeffery Woods"

× likes taking walks with them at night in the woods, even if there isn't anything to talk about. Just likes spending time with them peacefully for a little while

× often thinks about how things would've been different if he hadn't went about things the way he did, and wonders if they would've even met if he hadn't

× sometimes feels bad that they can't ever really have a normal relationship, but it is what it is

× tries to keep his life with his s/o and his "hobby" separate, sees them as innocent and doesn't want to "taint" them

× does everything he can to keep himself in check, doesn't want to scare them in a serious way

× another one of his favorite past times is snooping through your stuff shdhshhd

× if you have a diary dO NOT LET HIM KNOW, he will find it and he will read it

× will want to know if you've written about him in it, and if you have and he reads it he will never let you live it down

× it will be an eternal ego boost

× goes out of his way to be more gentle towards his s/o, don't let that go unnoticed

× tries to simulate any form of normalcy in the relationship as he can, and actually enjoys doing little domestic things with them even if its just something small like cleaning or cooking

[doobler]

Strenuous

This was the worst part. Of everything in his entire job description, from constant life-or-death missions to the injuries spurned from them along with a truly horrible case of PTSD, this was the worst, bar none. Nothing could top it. Ever.

"Spartan 113, report to the lab for prosthetic detailing."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jonah cursed, punching the door to his personal quarters so hard that it dented.

"I am confused," Vykan piped up from the cot. "I thought you would be elated to receive a new prosthetic?"

"Sure, after it's all said and done," He shook out his hand. His knuckles burned. "The actual refitting process is hell. Nothing compares to it."

Jonah emphatically gestured to the gap where his left arm would be. As he spoke, he grew angrier.

"The damned thing always takes a few days to get used to, hooking up new tech is long and arduous, the technicians have no souls, they only care about the "experiment", a new piece doesn't stop the HORRIBLE phantom pains, and the wiring being connected to my nerves is like having your goddamned BONES set on fire."

Jonah panted. When he regained his breath, he stood up ramrod straight then sighed.

"Whatever. I'll be back in a bit."

"What if I accompanied you?" 

Vykan looked sympathetic but not in that awful pitying way that Jonah despised. He stood, laying a hand on the Spartan's bad shoulder.

"You've told me our evenings on HALO together temporarily chased away your nightmares," Vykan pressed, sounding more hopeful. "Perhaps my presence now will help?"

Jonah faked rubbing at his sinuses to hide the subtle flush in his cheeks. Damn. He never should've confessed that. Now that the hell of surviving HALO was over, he had to face the odd magnetic pull Vykan always seemed to radiate. Being around the Elite made him dizzy and confused. At the same time, Vykan was being very kind in offering to help. Saying no would be a dick move.

"Okay, okay, maybe that'll work." Jonah peeled off his shirt, rooting around for a tank top. He continued to speak as he dressed. "But if I tell you it's time to leave, you better listen the first time."

"On my honor." 

"Good. Let's go."

Jonah was in a rush heading out the door. He missed the longing expression on Vykan's face.

---

"Take a seat, 113."

Jonah harrumphed at the engineer. As per usual, there were four of them, all with little handheld tablets to jot down data on. The lab was fuller than usual, no doubt the scientists and technicians wanted a closer look at both the new upgraded piece and Vykan himself. They watched with beady eyes as Jonah sat on the examination table and Vykan hovered nearby.

"How did you lose this one?" Jonah never bothered to learn any of the researchers names because he hated them but she looked familiar.

"I was ambushed. On HALO," Jonah snarled. "Sliced clean off by an. An energy sword."

"Did you experience a spike in feelings such as anxiety, panic, or shock when faced with the same weapon that took off your arm in the first place?"

"We're gonna skip the psych eval today," Jonah interrupted. He felt ready to puke. "And go right on ahead to actually fitting the damn thing. Got it? Or I'm leaving."

She sniffled once, scribbled something on her tablet, then moved on. A different scientist came forth with the new prosthetic. It was beautiful in a way. His previous one had been rather bare bones, simplistic armatures and wiring built to be lightweight with enhanced mobility. This one more resembled flesh, its plates shaped like planes of muscle, the bicep, tricep, and forearm sections defined and elegant. The fingers looked a normal size and thickness with articulated joints and an accurately segmented palm.

"Wow," Jonah breathed. "You guys really stepped up your game this time."

"It's a prototype," A third engineer piped up. "A mesh of military grade and civilian appropriate hardware and software. The idea is to give you every advantage on the field while attempting to simulate a realistic flesh arm in equal balance."

"Your feedback will be especially helpful this time and there will be a series of tests for the next week."

"Hey, if it works as good as it looks, I'll do whatever the fuck you ask," Jonah shifted his position, one leg pulled up on the table to give full access to the port in his shoulder. "Fire away."

At first, the hope was only one technician would be needed to affix the arm. As soon as the ball joint latch struck against his shoulder, however, Jonah couldn't help but scream and convulse. The port was a direct line to the nerves in his shoulder. The act of slotting the arm into place meant connecting wires both mechanical and flesh and the process was incredibly painful. He chewed down on his lower lip until it split and bled, finally squirming back and away. As he regained his breath, another technician joined in to help.

The second attempt was worse. Thankfully, a chair and not a human was the closest thing to Jonah. He kicked it hard enough that the window it smashed against fractured but didn't shatter. The latch fumbled and his cry of agony was ear-splitting.

When a third technician moved in to assist, Vykan cut between them.

"Perhaps I can help."

He shimmied up onto the examination table and looked over the Spartan. Jonah had tears prickling in his eyes. Gods. He couldn't even imagine the amount of pain he was in. Vykan held out his hand, his subsequent exhale sounding rather determined.

"You can squeeze as hard as you would care to," Vykan promised gently. "Do not fear hurting me."

Vykan knew his companion was desperate because Jonah took the offering with little hesitation. His skin was so soft and smooth, so unlike an Elite's. The warm caramel tone was rather pretty as well. Vykan swallowed. No, no, not now. Focus.

"Attempt mark three." Was the only spoken warning.

The latch caught the port and Jonah managed not to shriek. He could feel the tendons and muscles and bones in Vykan's hand flex and grind under his grip. When he glanced at the Elite's face, it was calm and cool. Jonah squeezed harder as the technicians readjusted their angle. With a sharp push, the latch and port aligned and the prosthetic slotted into place. Jonah groaned from deep within his chest as sensation tingled quite painfully through his shoulder. He flexed his fingers, listening to the soft little clicks of lightweight metal plates.

"How does it feel?" One technician inquired.

"It's a good weight," Jonah rolled his shoulder, testing the prosthetics full range of mobility. "Not too heavy, not too light, well balanced. I think the strain'll be minimal."

"Test the reaction time, is there any delay?"

"Not that I can tell yet," Jonah flexed his palm over and over. "It's pretty instantaneous. I'm more worried about the grip strength and how long it can hold any input."

"The grip strength should be equal or slightly greater to that of your other arm. As for holding input, it should keep for as long as you will it."

"You got anything to punch? Let's see how much kick this bitch packs."

Vykan watched, his thoughts cloudy and fragmented. It was always a delight to watch Jonah simply exist. He was so much bigger than the average human but always seemed distinctly aware of the space he occupied. When he chatted with Marines, he almost blended in until you took into stock how much more massive he was in comparison. His speech was vulgar, always filled with curses and harsh tones, but once he got on a subject he cared for, his voice softened and his intellect shone through. He carried himself proudly and he was brave and strong and smart and powerful and kind and warm, his eyes were such a fascinating shade of midnight blue, his lips were plump and full, his smile was bright and dazzling and--

"--Vy? You good, pal?"

Vykan jolted back to reality. Oh. Right. Jonah furrowed his brow but smiled.

"We're all done here," He clasped the Elite's shoulder. "C'mon, I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat."

He let Jonah steer him out of lab, his head swivelling around to watch the room as they left. The way the researchers looked back at him, the hunger in their eyes, sent chills down Vykan's spines. Who knew humans could be so haunting?

"You ok?" Jonah stopped once they were a good few halls away. "You full on spaced out there."

"Just acclimating to the situation," Vykan lied smoothly. "That was a rather... Shocking experience."

"Pfft. You're telling me. It gets harder every time. But this puppy right here," Jonah playfully tried to flex his prosthetic arm. "Is top of the class. I can already tell I'm gonna love this piece of shit."

Vykan followed right behind him, his gaze growing glassy as he listened to Jonah ramble on. He rubbed a thumb over his palm, the one Jonah had squeezed, and tried not to think of how nicely their hands had fit together.

[charmed-henry]

Consequences | The Order

The Order responds to Henry and Rose’s attempt at a mission

Date: Mid July

TW: Light references to death, violence, physical abuse (nothing graphic)

@prince--thomas @knightley--phillip @captain--john​ @thehuntress-rose​

HENRY

It made more sense not to have this conversation at the hospital, and yet Henry was grateful for that small mercy. He knew it was because talking about the Order in public was confusing at best and dangerous at worst, but Henry was personally very embarrassed about this whole thing and he really, really didn’t want Eric (or anyone else) to see him have to grovel. The fact that Rose was here was bad enough.

He sat down on the couch and looked around the room, from Rose to Tom to John to Phil, then sighed. Everyone stayed in stony silence. Henry had to say something. He sighed.

“Erm… right then,” Henry started, a little anxiously. “I reckon you will all want to say something about what my punishment will be and before we get into that, I just want to say that this really isn’t any of Rose’s fault. I know you will probably think that because of the way our last conversation went, but I didn’t tell her anything about Eric until last night, and this whole thing has been my idea. I… thought I could get Eric to come back to the Order on his own and I took some very stupid risks to do that, and… I’m very sorry that Rose got caught up in all of it.”

He glanced at Rose again, then back at the others. “Anyway, I wanted to get that out of the way. But… go ahead, let’s get on with it.”

THOMAS: Tom was fuming. He rarely got properly mad. This wasn’t just pissed off with annoyance, like he was at his mates every now and then. No, this was hands curled into fists, blood pounding, he wanted to hit something (preferably Henry’s face) mad.

He had been silent when he’d left the hospital with Rose and Henry in tow with a promise to see Grim and Eric in the morning. Now, he leaned against a wall of the living room, his arms crossed, expression stormy. He knew that he should keep control of his temper. They were young and stupid and he’d been young and stupid once. But, in their line of work, young and stupid meant you got people hurt or killed. Tom had already seen his fair share of death. So much of it. Even with Eric still alive, it hardly tipped the scales back. He was sick of it and he was angry.

So, Henry’s words only stirred a fire in him.

“Rose is responsible for her own actions,” Tom bit out. There that was civil enough…except that he kept going.

“If she didn’t want to be involved she would have called us or tried to stop you. So, she is just as at fault as you for your stupid, reckless behavior. You almost got someone killed! Probably more than one! You’re lucky you escaped alive. This isn’t a game! It’s not a training simulation. It’s fucking real and people’s lives! You two are playing with them as if none of that matters to you. It was irresponsible and dangerous and you should both be ashamed of yourselves. Not to mention all the lying and the secrecy. Does the code mean nothing to you? Does honor mean nothing? Eric is my family!” Tom’s voice boomed across the living room, and then cracked, like thunder. “I should’ve known he was alive!”

PHILLIP: Phillip reached a hand to Tom’s shoulder. He knew it was very likely that Tom would brush him off, but hell, if Tom was getting mad it was definitely a situation. He felt his own annoyance wrinkle in his chest, slowly tugging towards anger. He wasn’t as outraged as Thomas was (and that was justified — because, bloody hell Eric was alive), but he felt… well, betrayed really.

Disappointed.

That felt weird. Honestly, at this point, he’d rather be angry, rather curl his lip and rage.

But he glanced from Tom to Henry now and all he could think was that he was so damn happy they were alive.

“This was incredibly stupid and risky of you,” said Phillip, instead. He stood up, letting his hand drop from Thomas’s shoulder. “Especially after we told you all the risks — you could’ve put more civilians in danger. Did that ever occur to you? Did you even account for that, carrying on this plan in such a public place? What would have happened if it had been someone else who got injured and not Eric? If someone else died because of you lot.”

For all intents and purposes, his voice was rather calm, but he grit his teeth, some of that annoyance now mutating into bitter frustration.

“And,” he said, and this was the thing he did have the most issue with, and now his voice was cold. “You should’ve told Tom that his bloody cousin was alive.”

ROSE:

Rose was no stranger to scolding. The Huntsclan was a lot more barbaric in their tactics of taking a hunter down a peg. She went to the place in her mind that she usually did when she shut down. A place where she didn’t feel scared of whoever was in front of her. A place where her emotions didn’t control her. Rose heard the yelling, the anger in Tom’s voice, and felt Phil’s coldness.

He reminded her of her father.

Avoiding their eyes, she spoke up, “I didn’t know he was your cousin. I’m sorry, Tom.” Looking up to catch those ocean blues, “but you don’t have to grieve him anymore. You’re lucky.” Rose could only hope the people that had died in her time were secretly alive somewhere. She could see her mother walking down picturesque cobblestone roads with her hair down and not a care in the world. It was only a fantasy though, Rose had seen the open casket. There was proof of the impossibility of her return.

“Henry, you don’t have to defend me. We were in over our heads. I just didn’t want to admit I was,” she sighed. Eating crow wasn’t something Rose enjoyed, but to appease the men that had the power to further her fall from grace… she had to do something. If anyone in New York heard about this Rose would never gain back her good reputation.

JOHN

John was silent. His eyes spoke for him, the icy cold expression of contempt and disappointment aimed itself directly at the two responsible for this mess. “You deliberately disobeyed everything that you were told at the meeting when you first brought this business up. You lied directly to Thomas and Phillip.” He hadn’t been at the meeting, too busy with Office Hours he couldn’t leave from to go discuss a possible threat. He didn’t want to seem suspicious by lying to Jane once again to get out of it so he got updates from Tom and Phil throughout.

This was all a huge mess. A mess that weighed on his shoulders. Because although he was not appointed as some kind of higher position, the Order had always viewed him as the point of contact, the ring leader for all of this, he communicated with them and now he would have to either cover this up, or report to them what was going on. It put him in a position he very much didn’t want to be in.

“How is it that you two could be so impossibly daft?” His voice was cold, biting. Honestly, it was as if he was doing the most spot on impression of his father which frightened him a bit if he was being honest. “You’ve betrayed our trust. You’ve most certainly betrayed Tom’s and kept vital information from him. I cannot believe you lot, honestly. I’m in utter fucking disbelief. And now we’ve got a situation that we have to explain ourselves out of which draws further suspicion and more eyes towards us, jeopardizing everything we’ve bloody been working for.”

He would show some sort of reassurance or affection towards Thomas in his moment of crisis, but all he could do was lock his arms up, crossed over himself because he worried what he might do otherwise with them. No object not bolted down was safe. So he stood there, rigid, staring down the two that were the source of his ire.  

HENRY

Henry had braced himself for this. He knew it was coming. For all the ways Henry had messed up during training, not fast enough or strong enough or focused enough, he had never landed himself in this kind of trouble before. There was a difference between a failure of strength and a moral failure. For someone who had always prided himself on his convictions, the latter hurt more.

He wanted to curl up in a ball, to crawl out of his skin, to completely disappear, but Henry knew that would only make him look weaker than he already did. So he gritted his teeth and listened, making eye contact with Tom, then Phil, then John, each one’s speech feeling like another punch to the gut. And by the time John was done, Henry could feel something rising in his throat, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

They were all right. Henry had lied. He had been cocky and selfish, believing he could bring Eric back to the Order all by himself and that everyone would be so bloody thankful they would overlook the way Henry had lied to them. He had betrayed the men who had trusted him and treated him kindly despite his family’s reputation, and he had dragged Rose into it, who should never have even been involved to begin with. Henry’s honor and his morals had always been so important to him, and now he didn’t even have that.

“I understand,” Henry said through gritted teeth, determined not to show any emotion. He didn’t want to risk saying too much more and looking like even more of the pathetic fool he felt like. “You’re all right. There’s no excuse. I thought I was doing right by Eric, but in reality…” Henry cut himself off and swallowed hard. “That’s all I’ve really got to say. I’m sorry. I… don’t deserve to call myself a Prince right now.”

That hurt even more to admit out loud. Henry needed to get out of here before he really let that sink in. He looked between the others, waiting for someone to speak. “...So what’s going to happen to us?”

THOMAS: Nothing Rose or Henry said made him feel any better about this. Their apologies meant little to him and Rose’s argument also meant little. Of course Tom was relieved to have Eric back. He had lost more people than he could count at this point. To have any of them back was a bloody miracle. But, that did not fix the damage that had been done. Not only to Tom’s heart, but to his trust in either of them. (Though, he did not know how much or for how long Rose had known.) Henry, though, knew better. He knew better and he had done it anyway.

Had lied to them as a Prince. Going off behind their backs to put himself and others in danger, trying to play the hero. Tom understood the urge, but you had to be smart about these things. You couldn’t just throw yourself into a mess without a plan. By lying, he knew that he shouldn’t have done it in the first place.

And he had lied to Tom as a friend, as family. Sure, Henry and Tom did not share blood, but they shared family nonetheless. His sister was Tom’s sister’s in-law. They shared an aunt.

His jaw grit as he listened to Henry’s speech and still felt nothing but burning anger. If it was the two of them, and just the two of them, Tom would’ve already punched him and been done with it. But, he had a feeling that it needed more than a fight to get the bad blood out from between them.

Still, he just glanced towards John, knowing he knew the severity of this crime--and the severity of the punishment that must follow. Tom had a feeling if he was the one who doled it out, it would not be taken as seriously, considering the vengeance that it would be.

PHILLIP:

“You’ll be put on probation,” said Phillip, before John could speak. He knew that John would be harsher with his words than he probably intended (or maybe, he’d intend them to be that harsh — either way, harsher than was necessary for the situation). Phillip could deliver the punishment without going overboard, he felt, because while he certainly was pissed off, he didn’t have as much personal stake in the matter (and also, well, he’d felt a little annoyed at the concept of the Order lately, if only because of his forced engagement).

“Well, Henry will anyway. Rose, I’m sure it’ll be up to your superiors, but I reckon the fate will be similar: you’ll still be stationed in Swynlake, but you won’t be assigned on any missions. We can call on your assistance if we need, but it’ll likely be menial work: helping John with the paperwork, cleaning weapons, all that jazz. The probationary period usually lasts for a few months, after which, your status will be evaluated.” He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “Should you break your probation, then you’ll be stripped of your Prince status and if you ever want to take it back, you’ll need to undergo the required training and examinations once again.”

He flicked his gaze from Henry to Rose.

“Once again, not sure what the protocol will be for you, Rose, should you violate that probation.” He folded his hands together. “Got all that?”

ROSE: (tw: abuse mention) Great.

John was yelling, which she hadn’t seen before, but she’d never seen him happy with her either. Tom was just stoically standing there, brooding. Rose had seen this more than enough times. Phil, however, was the one speaking calmly, rationally. Well, he was pretty calm most times. But it seemed as if he had stepped up to dole out reprimands.

Rose supposed she should appreciate it. Considering that hearing it from anyone else would most likely be a lot harsher. John probably thought she was the worst person to transfer over from the Huntsclan, but Tom knew exactly why. She wasn’t ‘stationed’ here, she was exiled. The Huntress chose to come here, yes, but it was never really her own choice. Her punishment was being here, she was never going to be sent back to New York for bad behavior.

She sighed, really absorbing the mess she’d gotten herself into. It was bad for her, but worse for Henry. If he stepped out of line, they said he’d lose his position? He wouldn’t handle that well at all. Rose knew the Order was all about, well, order… but she’d much rather just take a quick slap or a bloody nose over a demotion. The hellion huntress had already worked her way down the ladder of punishments so there was not much further to fall.

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, but still loud enough to hear. Rose looked up from her feet, to acknowledge only Phil, “Can we go now?”

THOMAS: In Tom’s opinion, Henry deserved to have his title stripped. Here and now. Of course, it was not that easy. The Golden Trio they might be, but it was the kings of the Order who decided such things. He would absolutely recommend it. John and Phil had already managed to talk him down from that, but it didn’t change his mind.

It had been so bloody reckless. It had been so bloody deceitful. Tom couldn’t decide what he was more pissed about: the fact they had gone against their direct orders and almost gotten someone killed or that Henry had been lying to his face for…a year? More?

Tom’s heart felt like it was tearing itself apart and he resented it. He resented all of it. The Order and all it’s stupid rules. The Order and how it put them in these positions. Made them make these decisions—about life and death. He resented how it made him lose his family and then lose them again. All of the sudden, it was as if the clouds had parted onto a calm sea after days and nights of a storm raging. Years of a storm raging.

And he could see clearly how all these things came back to one thing: the Order. It had taken his father and his brother in law, his cousins. How miserable it was. But, as soon as he tried to navigate a path away, all he saw was his sisters. Was Phil and John. And he couldn’t—would never—leave them behind.

“Yes, go,” Tom bit out. “And I hope in the future you take the lives of those you care about much more seriously. Life is not guaranteed, death is.”

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Delicate Cycle

Author: @cellophanerose

For: @akito666us

Rating/Warnings: G/No warnings apply!

Prompt: Hinata helps Komaeda to recover from PTSD

Author’s notes: Hello!  It’s my first time writing fic, but I still hope you enjoy!  It’s more of “Hinata helps Komaeda recover” in general - I hope that’s ok!  Thanks for reading!

Hinata had already known that his past was indelible, even if he couldn’t remember it.  This was something that class 77-B all had in common – their lives in despair seemed like a hazy memory of a story someone once told, not the painful truth of how responsible they all were for the effective end of the world.  Ironically, most of the class more clearly remembered what had happened in the simulation, even though only the “survivors” left with their memories completely intact. Still, it wasn’t something easily brought up – asking a murder victim if they remembered how they died, or the blackened if they could still feel the phantom pains from their executions.  Because that was the thing – although no physical harm was carried over, the mental scars cut deeper than any murder weapon.

Despite all their attempts to move forward and forgive each other, Koizumi still flinched when she ran into Pekoyama alone, and Sainoji surreptitiously rubbed her throat when she thought no one was looking.   Hanamura froze up when his batter splashed onto him, and Tanaka clutched his fists hard enough to draw blood when loud stampeding sounded. Truly, even a fictional past was inescapable, but they all silently agreed that this would be their penance.

However, Hinata noted, Komaeda remained virtually unaffected.  No panic attacks when walking by the warehouse, no nervous sweating at the sight of ropes or fire, not even the spears they used for fishing or bright red containers..

“It was something I did to myself, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda once tried to explain.  “I knew exactly what to expect and prepared myself for that. Besides, I’ve been in plenty of other terrible accidents and trauma-inducing situations!” Komaeda tried laughing it off, but Hinata still felt he wasn’t getting the whole truth.  But, since he had nothing to go on save for a gut feeling, Hinata decided to let it go for now. Plenty of his classmates vocally asked for his guidance, so he wasn’t going to pull teeth trying to get Komaeda to reach out for help. He wouldn’t even worry about it!  At all!

Or so Hinata had told himself.  Until, one night, his mind was screaming at him that he wasn’t doing enough – that he would never be enough – that offering his entire being to the sacrificial altar of Hope’s Peak Academy for a chance to mean something still wasn’t enough – kept him awake.  (Between visions of a talentless reserve, a bored god, and a dead digital girl, he hardly ever slept through the night, but none of his friends needed to know this.) Tonight, however, instead of futilely chasing sleep that was never coming for him, Hinata slipped his sneakers on and stepped outside.  He figured he could do some preliminary work for the day ahead, namely making rounds and noting any malfunctioning equipment or depleted supplies, but truthfully he just felt the need to move.

Hinata left his cottage and headed towards the communal washing machines when he noticed the light was already on.  Not an odd thing, per se – several of his peers also had trouble sleeping, but the quiet music did pique his curiosity.  It was definitely a familiar song, but he didn’t connect the dots until he opened the door and found Komaeda kneeling on the ground, looking like a marionette whose strings had been cut.  It was then it all came together in Hinata’s mind – the heat from the fire, the smoke causing his eyes to tear, the pounding of feet and the shattering of bottles, and finally the sprinklers turning on, leaving only the overwhelming feeling of dread and anxiety for reasons he was too afraid to confront.  So many sensations had led up to that point, but when they pulled back the curtain, all Hinata could remember was ((despair)). The smell of blood, the look of terror permanently affixed to his face, the spear grotesquely impaling his stomach, every nauseating detail came giftwrapped in a single thought, a single moment, a single truth – Komaeda was dead.

Hinata snapped back into the present.

Komaeda was alive, and he needed Hinata’s help.  Hinata instinctually dashed to the radio and slammed the power button, then immediately pivoted and fell onto the floor beside Komaeda.  Komaeda’s usually crisp and clear eyes were faded and swirling with a slight darkness, and his façade was distressingly blank.

“Komaeda,” Hinata was shaking, but he still placed both of his hands on Komaeda’s shoulders in an effort to ground him.  His grip tightened when he received no answer.

“Komaeda!” he raised his voice, panic bubbling inside him, “It’s okay!  I’m here with you.” He couldn’t eloquently string words of comfort together, but he tried his best.  “You’re safe, you aren’t alone, you’re going to be fine, just please listen to me!”  Komaeda offered no reassurance that the words were reaching him and continued staring blankly through Hinata, to a place only he could see.

Hinata’s hands were still trembling when he wrapped his arms around Komaeda.  They had never been physically intimate like this, but at that moment, Hinata needed to feel Komaeda’s warmth just as much as Komaeda needed Hinata.  “I’m here,” Hinata mumbled, surprising himself when the words, “I’ll always be here,” slipped out. The most shocking part, Hinata found, was that he wanted it to be true.

Hinata had lost many of his friends during the killing game, and he cared about each one of them, but he would be lying if he said Komaeda’s death didn’t leave an especially strong impact on him.  Even after it was revealed that Komaeda had orchestrated his own death, Hinata felt a sadness and regret that he didn’t want to name at the time. Nanami paid the ultimate price for Komaeda’s actions when she didn’t get the choice, so it was easy to bury those earlier feelings under anger and frustration.  After everything had settled, and Hinata was reunited with their digital classmate in a moment of great distress, he couldn’t ignore those buried feelings.

Hinata didn’t want Komaeda to be alone.  Luck had constantly torn those who cared about Komaeda away from him, leaving him with no one who loved him.  Komaeda had told Hinata once that he was afraid of dying alone, and though Hinata at the time fell for Komaeda’s lie of “it was something I read in a book!” it wasn’t because Hinata truly believed it, but rather because it was easier to do so.  Komaeda had given him an out in the form of a flimsy lie, and Hinata had taken it.  Of course Komaeda was afraid of dying alone – after spending as much time as he had with Komaeda, it was an obvious conclusion for Hinata to reach.  And yet, Komaeda manufactured a situation where he would not only die alone, but also in such a horrific manner. He chose to die alone, and that was something Hinata could never accept.

So when Komaeda finally raised his arms to return Hinata’s embrace, Hinata felt such a wave of relief and calm that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.  

~

When Komaeda came to, he admonished himself for being so weak, and started brainstorming ways to explain his reaction away.  Telling Hinata he wasn’t having problems with his death, and yet here he was, putting on such an unsightly display. …Actually, what was Hinata doing here in the first place?  Embracing Komaeda, of all people? Maybe it had something to do with why Hinata was shaking, he thought. He might as well venture a guess (and buy himself some more time in the process.)

“Hinata-kun, why are you shaking so much?  Are you getting sick, maybe?” The question was asked in earnest, but Hinata reacted with anger.

“Don’t make light of this!  Do you really think I would be so heartless as to not react?” Hinata was still trembling, but he let his arms fall from Komaeda and balled his hands into fists.  Komaeda felt a flash of disappointment before curiosity returned. Maybe he was thinking of this the wrong way?

“…Are you angry with me, Hinata-kun?”  Komaeda felt a little silly trying to have a conversation while kneeling on the floor, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Is it really that hard for you to imagine that I was worried about you, Komaeda?  That I feel things other than anger and boredom?” Hinata stood up, and Komaeda quickly followed.  Hinata looked directly into Komaeda’s eyes, but whatever he was searching for, he must not have been able to find.  “…Sorry,” Hinata continued, “this isn’t… I just was scared, all right? Hearing that music, and seeing you like that, I… Actually, it doesn’t matter.”  Komaeda was ready to refute that ‘No, it actually matters a great deal,’ but Hinata still continued.

“Are you ok, Komaeda?  Does that happen often?”  Hinata looked painfully earnest, so Komaeda held back his self-deprecating comments for now.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Hinata-kun, but I’m all right.   That song simply caught me off-guard. Up until today, I had completely forgotten it was part of my plan.  Only somebody totally useless like me would let such an insignificant thing shut them down!” Komaeda hoped Hinata would let his ‘useless’ slide for now.  Hinata sighed and placed his hand on Komaeda’s shoulder.

“It’s ok to not be all right, you know?  I know you don’t think you’re worth it, but we’re all here to support each other.  You went through something terrible. And don’t say it doesn’t count ‘cause you did it to yourself!  You wouldn’t be collapsed in front of a washing machine at 3 AM if you weren’t hurting. Maybe you don’t even realize it, but even if that pain isn’t on the surface, I want to remove it from you.”  Hinata held Komaeda’s robotic hand with both of his own. “I won’t let you get lost in despair again.”

Komaeda was deeply shaken by those words, and even if he wanted so badly to believe them, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so.  He ached to open up, to lay everything out to Hinata that he couldn’t even tell himself, but he knew he wasn’t brave enough to do so.  Instead, he fell back into his failsafe: being contentious.

“Haha…Tell me, Hinata-kun, what makes you think you have the power to do such a thing?  What could a failure of a reserve course guinea pig do to help someone like me?” He was on a dangerous line, he knew - already he had slipped up and admitted that he needed help.  But the faster he hurt Hinata and pushed him far enough away, the better. “I never asked for your pity.”

The words stung both of them, Komaeda realized.  He was so used to pushing away people he cared about, but hurting Hinata felt especially vile.  However, Hinata surprised him by doing the exact opposite of what he’d planned - instead of getting angry and storming off, he agreed.

“I guess I am pretty useless,” Hinata started.  “I’ve always known I was a failure, and you’ve never hidden your contempt for that part of me.  But I won’t let that stop me. Because I know you, and I know you want this,” Hinata laced his fingers with Komaeda’s, “And so do I.  You can’t push me away this time, Komaeda.”

Komaeda’s heart was pounding so loudly that he was afraid the roof would collapse from the sound.  He looked up into Hinata’s eyes and saw all stubborn determination and kindness and hope.  Komaeda’s lips trembled.

How long had he wanted this?  Someone to talk to him, someone to comfort him?  Someone to take his hand and make silly, irresponsible promises?

“…I guess if you’re going to be that stubborn, I won’t be able to stop you,” Komaeda tried saying nonchalantly, but a genuine smile was sneaking its way onto his face.  He still couldn’t bring himself to fully believe it, but looking at Hinata’s expression, he couldn’t not believe it either. Hinata relaxed in understanding of Komaeda’s thinly veiled acceptance.  He squeezed Komaeda’s hand once more before letting it drop. Suddenly, it was like the force that was keeping Hinata steady had vanished and his visage changed to one of pure exhaustion. He swayed towards Komaeda, who held him upright.

“Hey, Hinata-kun?  Have you been sleeping poorly lately, perhaps?”   He paused for a second before deciding to take it a step further.   “I’ve also had problems sleeping recently. Do you want to talk about it?”  Hinata looked like he wanted to object, but realized the hypocrisy of such and decided to answer honestly.

“A little bit.  Nightmares, y’know?  Sometimes I can’t get my brain to shut off,” Hinata admitted. “ A lot of the times I can’t remember if what I see in my dreams is real or not.”  Komaeda had a hunch on what Hinata was referring to, but didn’t interrupt. “…Sometimes, I dream about you.” Komaeda jolted to attention.

“Ah, my features are quite haunting, I suppose-” before Komaeda could spit any more vitriol, Hinata cut him off.

“About your death,” Hinata clarified.  Komaeda’s vision briefly flashed to visions of fire and blood and pain, but a quick squeeze of Hinata’s arm brought him back to reality.  Well, that was surprising. Komeada chalked it up to sleep deprivation that Hinata was admitting this, because the thought that he wanted Komaeda to know how much it affected him was too much to handle.  

“…Do you want to tell me?” Komaeda didn’t know how far he could push his boundaries.

“No- I mean - yes, but… I do want to talk with you eventually, but I’m not sure if I have enough energy for it right now.”  Was his death truly something that haunted Hinata to such a point? Komaeda had no reason to believe he was lying, but still…

“Let’s try getting some sleep, then,” Komaeda suggested instead.  “We can always talk more at a later time!” Komaeda gave Hinata a tired, but bright, smile.  He was elated when Hinata returned one in kind.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hinata grinned.  Hinata was so bright, like a beacon of hope for Komaeda, but he was still so human and flawed.  He had felt a kinship with Hinata from the very first time they met, but through all the trials and tribulations they went through, Komaeda had found himself drawn to something more than a feeling of similarity.  He listened to Komaeda’s ramblings, and while he didn’t always agree, he always engaged. It felt like someone was finally seeing him, and that prickly kindness Hinata offered was ‘hope’ in his eyes.

Yes, to say Hinata was Komaeda’s hope wasn’t an exaggeration.  Every version of Hinata was dear to him, and the man standing before him despite all odds was the man he grew to love.

~

Hinata was dizzy with exhaustion and giddiness (at being heard, at finally reaching out and being honest with Komaeda, at Komaeda reaching back) that when Komaeda gave a small wave and turned to leave, he called out to him.

“Komaeda!”  Maybe Hinata didn’t want this bubble to pop because he was afraid that, even after tonight, nothing would change, or maybe he could blame sleep deprivation.  But when Komaeda turned around in response and Hinata pulled him into a hug and whispered, “thanks,” Hinata realized there wasn’t a reason - he just wanted to hold Komaeda. Hinata was treated to the sight of a slightly red-faced Komaeda, awkwardly deciding how to react.

“Nnnh…No problem?” Komaeda asked, clearly looking for an explanation from Hinata.  However, when Hinata dropped his arms and walked away, he left Komaeda with nothing but a ‘good night.’  If Hinata’s ears were burning by the time he got back to his cabin, Komaeda didn’t need to know.  

That night, he dreamt of soft touches and interlocking fingers, of white hair and pale eyes.

Hinata wasn’t naive enough to believe that this was the end of nightmares or breakdowns for either of them, but when Komaeda invited him to stargaze and air some more things out before they fell asleep, he had hope that both of them were healing.  Even when Komaeda’s luck inevitably brought a storm that covered the stars and drenched them both to the bone, Hinata had never felt as calm as he did when Komaeda dozed off while leaning his head against his shoulder. He spent a long time listening to the soft sound of Komaeda’s breathing and feeling the slight movements beside him before following Komaeda into sleep.

While it was still true that they couldn’t erase their pasts, they can still move towards a brighter future together.