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pinnithin-writes · 3 years ago

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more of a feeling

Mission to Zyxx fic, mild spoilers for season 5 if you're not caught up. This started as rambling about our bodies sabotaging us and turned into a conversation about our bodies taking care of us. 2117 words.

It was simple, really. It all came down to chemistry.

C-53 knew how emotions worked, of course; he’d even go so far as to call himself a veteran by now. Every frame he’d inhabited was a different experience, but the emotions he felt in those frames were a reassuring constant. He knew the programming for joy. He could trace the source code for anger. His cube felt it all the same, and no matter how many diagnostics he had to run in an unfamiliar body, his thoughts, his feelings, and his personality grounded him through the flux.

Until, that is, the failed clone of a scientist shoved him in a meat suit without his consent.

Emotions were different when he was piloting flesh. They governed his body more than he was used to. They still generated from C-53’s cube, but now that cube was hooked up to nerves and synapses, blood and organs, and those living, breathing parts responded accordingly. He was a miracle of a machine, truly – a code given life – but he couldn’t wax poetic about something like that when his pores leaked and his muscles tired and his stomach twisted in knots.

It was hard enough dealing with a body that resisted his will at every turn. It was worse still that every fleeting feeling affected him on the molecular level. He didn’t know how organics got anything done like this. Frustration made his head pound and his guts churn. Despair burned his eyes and locked his throat. Even pleasant feelings – affection, mirth – stole his breath, made his pulse race. It was distracting at best and debilitating at worst. Surely there was a way to bypass these effects.

Unable to connect his consciousness to high speed internet, he had to go about this the old fashioned way, which made it a slow process indeed. Thankfully, the USS Synergy owned a vast library, which he took advantage of to scan every file they had on hermanns, discovering himself.

He did most of his research at night. He told himself this was because he was less likely to be interrupted, but in truth he was embarrassed at his own inefficiency. Even in the old loader frame, downloading the data would have taken all of ten seconds. And though he knew his crewmates wouldn’t humiliate him, he still didn’t want to be seen like this. Having to move his eyes across a screen, absorb and process the words they scanned, and then file that information away in his slippery maze of a brain, line after line after line after line after line.

The hours of learning made him feel childish. C-53 was tired.

But he was getting somewhere. When exhaustion pulled at his eyelids and his thoughts went fuzzy in the late, still hours on Bargie, he knew it was adenosine flooding his neural pathways and inhibiting his functionality. No code existed to override adenosine. Caffeine, however, could counteract it for a short time (with the unfortunate side effect of upsetting his stomach and tasting like tar).

C-53 pored over chemistry texts and neuroscience studies, learning what made hermanns - and thus, hermanoids - do what they did. There were no comparable texts on tellurians in this galaxy, but the science, from what he could remember, was quite similar. It was all chemicals, and those chemicals told his brain to tell his body how to act.

It was exceptionally overcomplicated. There was always some other influencing factor to his body, a sensory input or a thought or even his DNA - Jeremy’s genetic memory - that scrambled a system that could theoretically be very streamlined.

An example: he could eat something that tasted good (peanut butter and chocolate), triggering a flood of dopamine that caused him to feel happy. But Jeremy was allergic to tree nuts, so his immune system attacks him for a perceived threat that doesn’t exist, so forcefully that he could die from it. It was as fascinating as it was annoying. Who knew organics could have glitches? Too bad he hadn’t figured out how to debug anaphylactic shock.

He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by doing all this research. In a way, studying why his body actively sabotaged him was a comfort, but the more he learned, the more faults he discovered. Evolution was a temperamental thing. He much preferred the elegance of engineering.

At present, it was a dark hour on Bargie, docked and slumbering with her crew on the Synergy. Half awake in the conversation pit, amidst a tangle of textbooks and portable screens, C-53 sat alone under the red glow of the security lights. Sprawled as he was, C-53 didn’t immediately notice Pleck wandering into the room until he said his name.

Blurry lines of text sharpened as he startled, then relaxed. “Hm? Oh, hey Pleck,” he said.

“C-53, it’s like, three in the morning,” Pleck responded. Bare footsteps signaled his approach, and then he dropped onto the couch next to C-53, a glass of water in one hand and an orange fruit in the other. He reached over and set the glass precariously on the cushion between them. “Y’know, tellurians usually sleep around this time,” he pointed out helpfully. “What are you doing out here?”

The info tablet C-53 held was inches away from his face. “I’m learning about my pineal gland,” he announced dully.

A hormone regulator located near the brain stem. Releases melatonin and influences one’s circadian rhythm. Well, it wasn’t doing a very good job right now, was it?

“Cool, is that something like - do tellurians have that too or just, y’know,” Pleck drew his feet up to sit cross-legged, “whatever you are?”

C-53 couldn’t help but smirk mirthlessly at that. “It’s found in most vertebrates, so yes, I would imagine both you and whatever I am have one.” He set the tablet aside to look at Pleck, but the screen made him night blind, and he could only see the afterimage of a splotchy red rectangle in the darkness. “Why are you awake?”

“Oh, I woke up thirsty,” Pleck explained easily. He fiddled with the peel on his fruit as he spoke. “And then I thought, well, while I’m up I might as well grab a snack, and then I saw you sitting there so,” he shrugged, “here I am.”

It was a better explanation than what C-53 had. And it was a far better explanation than Pleck would have given several months ago, when the Allwheat was still worming into his brain and keeping him up at odd hours. C-53 was thankful those days were behind them. As the afterimage of the tablet faded and Pleck became a collection of grays and blues beside him, he quietly mourned the loss of his night vision. And his regular vision.

“You ever had one of these, C-53?” Pleck asked. He finally got his fingernails under the skin and began peeling. “The Themm grow these instead of oranges. They’re kind of sour?”

“I haven’t,” C-53 answered. He hadn’t eaten an orange before, for that matter, but he wasn’t too interested in expanding his food horizons. Most things had an unpleasant texture to him.

“Do you want some?” Pleck went on, adding pieces of rind to the small pile in his lap. He slanted C-53 a glance. “Oranges are the most shareable fruit.”

“No, thank you.”

Pleck shrugged again before separating a slice of not-orange and popping it in his mouth. As he chewed in silence, C-53 picked up the glass between them and placed it safely on the coffee table. Piles of nearby notes were scrawled in his own clumsy hand, amateur diagrams and chemical formulas with lots of arrows and exclamation marks littering the margins. Writing it down helped the nonstick pan of his brain gain some traction, he found, but the coffee table was starting to look like Nermut’s conspiracy wall after so many hours of research.

His neck ached. His head pounded out a protest.

He’d been pushing his brain and body to its limits and had what to show for it? A newfound disgust with himself? A frustration he only knew more intimately? C-53 frowned and used one of his papers as a coaster.

Beside him, Pleck happily ate his fruit, unbothered. Being organic was easy for him; he was a native to his body and didn’t know anything else. C-53 pitied and envied him in equal measure.

“You’re going to bed soon, right C-53?” Pleck asked after making his way through half the orange. He reached to retrieve his glass from the table, but condensation stuck a note about the amygdala to the bottom. “Oh,” he remarked.

C-53 peeled it off for him. “I don’t like sleeping,” he explained, crumpling the note and tossing it on the table. “So I’m reading.”

Pleck took a sip of water and frowned. “You gotta sleep sometime.”

“I know,” he answered shortly. He’d read dozens of articles about the side effects of sleeplessness. Fatigue, irritability, memory issues, hallucinations if you waited long enough. He knew he’d crash eventually, he just wasn’t especially motivated to avoid it. “It feels bad,” he went on. “Waking up is disorienting.”

There was a thoughtful crease between Pleck’s brows; C-53 could barely see it under the security lights. Pleck took a moment to set his glass back down on the table before turning the remainder of the fruit over in his hands. “Is it because you don’t feel safe?” he asked without looking up.

“I’m… sorry?”

“It’s just - y’know, when I was having trouble sleeping-”

“Pleck, I’m not a lunatic,” C-53 interrupted. “I know I’m perfectly safe on Bargie. I just don’t like sleeping. I don’t need you to teach me how to be tellurian, okay?” He gestured at the pathetic mess of research before him, scrawled in an obvious lunatic’s hand. “I’m figuring it out.”

Pleck fed himself a section of orange and didn’t answer right away. On C-53’s other side, the info tablet’s screen auto timed out and went dark. They were bathed in red completely now, one of them frustrated and exhausted, the other watchful and concerned. C-53 removed his glasses and rubbed at his stinging eyes.

“Sorry,” he said after a time. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Pleck offered.

C-53’s sigh went through his whole body. “Yes.”

A stubborn, senseless part of him didn’t want to overcome this. He didn’t want to be an example of perseverance, some epic struggle conquered by learning to live well. He wanted to kick and bite and throw a fit over this new frame. It wasn’t fair.

“C-53,” Pleck broke quietly into his thoughts. “You don’t have to, y’know, have the answer to everything all the time. Sometimes you have to just… do what your body is telling you to do, even if you don’t want to.” He offered an orange slice in C-53’s direction. “It’s trying to take care of you.”

“You say that like this flesh suit has a soul,” C-53 grumbled, but he took the fruit anyway, staring glumly as it lay in his stupid, sweaty palm.

“Well, sure it does.” Pleck smiled and prodded his shoulder with an index finger. “It’s you.”

C-53 fell silent. It was strange, learning things from Pleck. He was used to the roles being reversed, and it shifted something uncomfortably inside him every time it happened. Dutifully, he put the orange in his mouth, felt the tart flavor burst on his tongue, and chewed past the slimy sensation until he was able to swallow it. He was unable to hide a shudder.

Pleck watched him with one hopeful eye. “Not your favorite?” he guessed.

“It’s the texture,” C-53 explained, grimacing. But he held his hand out for another slice in spite of it.

Pleck grinned. “We can find something you like to eat instead of this,” he said, scooping the orange peels out of his lap and leaving them on the coffee table for later cleanup. “It doesn’t have to all be bad. Come on,” he rose from his seat and offered C-53 his hand. “Let’s check the kitchen for something better and then, y’know, maybe try and get some sleep?”

The please was unspoken, but C-53 could see it on Pleck’s freckled face. He was trying to take care of him, just like his clunky, unfamiliar body was. C-53 didn’t like his body very much, and wasn’t sure he ever would, but he liked Pleck enough to go along with him for now. He didn’t know what kind of chemical governed trust. He didn’t even let himself ask.

C-53 took Pleck’s hand, tried not to flinch from the zing it sent up his arm, and followed him out of the pit.

#mission to zyxx #mtz #pleck decksetter #c-53 #AI in a meat suit having an understandable problem with being Flesh #do you know how fuckin hard it was to walk this Jeremy line without letting it be rpf on accident #hhhhanyway #pleck/53 #(very minor)

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literallymechanical · 3 years ago

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Well, are you going to fill us in on "why we are morally obligated as a species to some day blow up the Earth"? Sounds like a supervillain backstory

(This was originally inspired by qntm’s fantastic satirical essay, “To Destroy The Earth,” but I disagree with him on a few key points. I highly recommend checking out qntm’s fiction, particularly Ra, Fine Structure, and There Is No Antimemetics Division. Disclaimer: this is a thought experiment, I’m not actually going to destroy the Earth.)

Let us begin with this: you want to destroy the Earth.

That’s not a question or an instruction, that’s an axiom. A fundamental truth from which a logical system is built. It’s your Statement Zero, the singular concept from which the rest of these instructions are built: you want to destroy the Earth. You might not know why, and you certainly don’t know how. Trust me, you really don’t know how. Take all of your cultural knowledge of Death Stars and hyperspace construction crews and throw it out the window, because it’s not worth a clipped penny.

That being said, here are a few reasons to somebody might want to destroy the Earth:

You want to wipe out humanity

You want to wipe out some other species

General misanthropy

It’s obstructing your view of the Moon.

You want us to colonize Mars or Venus, and you figure this is the best way to get everybody on board.

These are bad reasons to destroy the Earth. If any of these sentiments resonate with you, please stop reading this essay. This isn’t for you.

Anyway, let's put a pin in the “why” for now. We'll get to it later. Let's tackle the "how" first.

To destroy the Earth, you need a Plan, with a capital P.

The shape of the Plan is extremely simple to define, much simpler than the relatively detailed (and, in my opinion, fragile) instructions others have outlined. It has just two parts.

Figure out how to destroy the Earth. This is defined as the Earth not being there when you're done—any chump with nuclear weapons can scour the Earth, you're trying to make the entire thing go away.

Destroy the Earth.

However, a lot of shapes are simple to define, but hard to draw. The Mandelbrot set can be defined by a single equation and a couple of instructions, but the result is a fractal. This Plan will be fractally intricate as well. We certainly can’t draw up the full Plan right now. We can barely even begin to draw the outline. Let’s take a quick stab at it anyway.

First of all, I don’t know how to destroy the Earth. We can speculate a bit, but we certainly can’t choose a method yet—you'll likely need multiple redundant strategies anyway. “Blow it up” is one idea, but the gravitational binding energy of the Earth is about 2*10^32 joules, and there is no conceivable technology that can handle that sort of power right now. “Launch bits of it into space one by one until there’s nothing left” sounds promising, though it will take a while. “Mess with its orbit until it’s close enough to the Sun’s Roche limit to get ripped to shreds” is a fun idea. Or maybe in the next million years, you'll come up with a better way.

The most important part of that statement is “the next million years.” It will take a very long time to figure this one out. A million years is a pretty good estimate, though if you'll proactive it might take as little as a couple hundred thousand.

That brings us to the hardest part of the Plan: making sure the Plan survives a million years.

Right now, you're in a precarious position. Climate change probably won’t entirely wipe us out, but it will likely disrupt civilization enough that the Plan will be lost. Nuclear war might actually cause us to go extinct. A killer asteroid certainly would. Therefore, the first thing the Plan needs to do is save the world. Reverse climate change, or at least halt it. Nuclear disarmament. Peace, or as close as we can get to it. Medicine, spaceflight, art, prosperity, happiness, survival—all part of the Plan.

Colonizing other planets, and eventually other solar systems, is also in the Plan. Not just for a backup in case of killer meteor, but also because when you do destroy the Earth, you’ll need somewhere to stand. Remember, you're not trying to wipe out humanity here! Just destroy a planet. This will be tricky. It’s very likely that there’s no such thing as faster-than-light travel, so it will take a while to spread across the galaxy. This might take up the bulk of the million-year timeline.

(Quick note: you may be tempted to conquer the Earth, or set yourself up as some sort of galaxy-spanning God-Ruler. In my personal opinion, this is a bad idea. Right now, empires typically last a couple hundred years before falling. Do you think it would be easier to hold on to multiple planets than just a bit of land around the Mediterranean? I believe that it’s best to have your Plan set up a system where people can survive and thrive without needing you.)

But as tricky as interstellar colonization may be, it’s still the easy part. The hard part is that the entire Plan has to reconstruct itself from scratch if everything goes wrong.

The Plan has to be the most massively redundant, self-repairing, and robust project humanity has ever undertaken, or will ever undertake. The Plan needs to be able to resurrect our entire species on its own, without human intervention, in case something goes wrong (e.g. nuclear war) and we all get wiped out. Here’s one idea: computerize the Humanity Reboot Protocol, stamp the code onto platinum bricks, launch a million copies into deep space and onto every rocky body in the solar system, and have it check back in every once in a while. You can have that one for free.

The Plan also needs to have a way to re-motivate humanity to destroy the Earth. Maybe that’s as simple as posting it to tumblr and having a lot of people read it, but it will probably be a bit more complicated. Crucially, the Plan does not have to be visible. Nobody actually needs to know that the Plan exists, if you’re clever enough. You might be tempted to turn it into a religion, but religions change and die. Remember: the Plan has to eventually pop off, no matter what we do to ourselves.

The Plan is now its own entity, both distinct from and deeply intertwined with humanity.

(As a side note, this begs the question: What if the Plan is already in effect? If it’s a good Plan, we wouldn’t be able to tell. What if some sufficiently motivated creature set things into motion ten thousand or a hundred thousand or a million years ago? Food for thought.)

Alright. So, enough time has passed, and you’ve figured out how to destroy the Earth. I use “you” loosely at this point. Maybe, against all odds, you’ve figured out immortality, or mind-uploading, cloning, whatever. More likely, you’ve been dust for a million years. That’s not important. Regardless, “you” are standing on Mars or wherever and your metaphorical finger is hovering a metaphorical big red button marked “DESTROY THE EARTH.” Step 2 of the Plan.

Let’s pause here and go back to that pin from before: Why? Why are you destroying the Earth?

Well, a lot of reasons. If I were doing this, my Plan would include abandoning the Earth for other star systems and setting it up as some sort of museum. I'd take all the biosphere with me, of course, and make better Earths elsewhere. Imagine a hundred Earths, each of which are perfect nature preserves, or more! Imagine finding a good silica-heavy planet, turning it into molten glass, and sculpting it into something beautiful. Imagine spelling your name in an Oort cloud. Imagine an ocean planet full of whales.

Imagine coming back to a deserted G-type solar system with a few dusty rocks, an asteroid belt, and a handful of gas giants. Imagine breaking them down to make raw materials for a Dyson sphere.

Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe a paleontologist somewhere will figure out that this might be the planet where we first evolved, and it would be nice to put it somewhere safe. Hey, does that count as destroying the Earth? Where the Earth once was, there is now empty space. No more Earth! That sounds pretty destroyed to me. Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe your Plan is different, and the Earth is still inhabited. For what it’s worth, I hope you’ve made it a paradise, one of a thousand Edens across the galaxy. It would be a shame to blow it up… but if Sol-3 is just one paradise among many, what makes it significant? “Earth” is our homeworld, but now there are a thousand homeworlds, so what is “Earth?” What makes this one rock special? Nothing! You’ve successfully destroyed the entire concept of “Earth.” That might be harder than blowing up a planet! Well done! You did it!

In conclusion, here is why I say it’s a moral imperative to destroy the Earth:

Eventually, a baby bird has to leave the nest. Somebody needs to be the mom bird who lures her chicks off the edge, and it might as well be me.

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homestuckexamination · 3 years ago

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Ideas for troll denizens part 4!

Hey, I’m back, I didn’t post this for a while because of a certain discouragement, not because of personal problems or something, maybe out of laziness? Well (I have to stop this excess of saying “well”) let’s start! >:D

You’re writing like several paragraphs of stuff here, I think “laziness” is the LAST thing people are gonna think of you. X3

Gamzee, Dionysus and Yaldabaoth: Time to talk about one of the most horrible characters in the Homestuck universe, and when I speak horrible, I mean in the sense of evil, not in the sense of being a “very bad character built”, they don’t hate me , OK? First contextualization. Dionysus is the god of the grape-harvest, winemaking and wine, of fertility, orchards and fruit, vegetation, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, festivity and theater in ancient Greek religion and myth (information taken from Wikipedia). Gamzee was a clown who drank substances with drug-like effects, leaving him as a harmless clown who wanted to make his friends happy and “relaxed”. He was also part of a “dark” cult of clowns who believed that their messiahs would one day arrive to take them to a paradise-like world, but as we all know, he had a moment of “explosion” and bla bla Horrorstuck bla bla pat pat. But the point I want to make is that Gamzee is not only related to DionySUS (sorry for the pun) only for the drug, party and religion parts (Although they are strong indications of a connection between the two) but he is also strongly related to theater, as one of their marks being the masks of tragedy and comedy, which were connected with keys that were able to give the ability of Caliborn and Gamzee to look at all Homestuck events and influence them, and stopping to think .. .Homestuck is a great theater! Each part of the story having the name “act” and with a curtain opening when an act begins, and with a curtain closing when an act ends (not to mention that each character’s speech is considered a script for a play of theater or a story). At this point you should already be aware of what I want to talk about the connection between these two characters, but I want to make one more point. The figure of Zeus is quite associated as a dimurgical figure, just like LE, and in ancient myths, Zeus ended up with a mortal, who ended up dying for reasons that I will not go into details, but as the fruit of the relationship was a god he is still alive, and Zeus draped him on his leg so that he did not die, being responsible for his second at birth. Gamzee after having his faith disrupted, as a refuge in a god that really exists, and became part of him, or rather, being absorbed, being part of him, and being born again. Well, but what does Yaldabaoth have to do with Gamzee? Well, in addition to Gamzee being a part of the great villain, or the Yaldabaoth figure of Homestuck, he also has gigantic strength, being capable of much more damage than Equius (who is known for his uncontrolled brute strength) But, as a person would say “having a powerful power without control is easy, but the most powerful is the one who has control over the powerful power”, and furthermore, he can be seen as a demonic and evil figure, being able to do countless atrocities with those around and … JESUS CHRIST! This part already has more than 3000 thousand lines! I better go to the next one.

Eridan, Zeus and Miguel ?: Well, Eridan is a complicated case, so I will be brief. Zeus, is a big ass, like, of the big ones, In addition to having an ego that is only surpassed by the size of Mount Olympus, he is a professional “traitor”, he betrayed his wife, so many, and so many times, that half of history of Greek myths, was responsible for his penis. But well, let’s go to the connections with our troll soon with his hatred surpassed only by Cronus. Eridan has an inflated ego, I mean, that was supported by his extremely high position in society, but it still counts, he is also quite related to quadrants in general, and to sexuality in general (but … which hope player does not have a association with sexuality? Am I right or am I right?) Besides all that, something that blew my mind was seeing the myth of the “Greek flood”, is that Zeus was responsible for basically KILLING ALMOST ALL HUMANS FOR HE THINKING THAT PIGS, THAT DON’T LOVE THE GODS AND BLA BLA !!!!!! And Eridan, he would have done the same with the earth’s inhabitants if Vriska’s doomsday device hadn’t failed. Wow, so far I’m slaughtering Eridan and Zeus, but look, I don’t hate Eridan as a character, but as a person, and I’m sorry if I was too aggressive. But something you are asking yourself is “Miguel?”. Miguel is closely associated with Hope being an archangel, and he is described as a “very humble prince”, which would teach Eridan a lot on his journey and in his land.

Details: -Eridan was isolated on his land as Zeus was isolated on Mount Olympus a few times. -Eridan has a rivalry with Sollux, which as I said in post 2, has Hades as Denizen, which brings the rivalry between Zeus and Hades again.

Feferi and Persephone: Ah yes, we got to the top, let’s talk about Persephone and Feferi. In Greek mythology, Persephone, also called Kore or Kora, is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. She became the queen of the underworld after her abduction by Hades, the god of the underworld, with the approval of her father, Zeus (information taken from Wikipedia). Feferi is a cheerful and practical troll, with a great plan to change every alternation and the lives of all people (but he can also be naive at times), he is also the tallest troll in all of society, being the future heir to Alternia, but is stuck with her huge lussus that needs high amounts of food to live. The parallels between these two are very clear, they are related to life, but like everything, not everything is so simple. Both have a family member who controls their lives (and who are coded with the life aspect), Feferi has “glubglub” and Persephone has his mother Demeter (the goddess of agriculture) who controls his life, barely giving him freedom, moreover, both have a lot of empathy, relating to the dead to such an extent, that Demeter was able to influence Hades to create the Elysian fields, and Feferi was able to make the Horrorterrors create the dream bubbles, places capable of making the dead rest in peace. . Another point to highlight is that Persephone had a loving relationship with Hades (the god of the underworld, related to the doom aspect) which I theorized would be Denizen de Sollux … and that concludes the posts.

Uh, it was a long journey, and I wanted to say I’m sorry if I was too aggressive or exaggerated in this post, but well, some must have noticed that I ended up leaving an irritated friend out of that post, but he will receive an exclusive post, have a Goodnight!

Good insight and thematic ties, but I will NEVER forgive you for DionySUS.

Also just as a note, it’s curious I know a lot of this just from playing Hades-

#HSE #Fanon #Denizens #beta trolls #gamzee #eridan #feferi #submission

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remade-stopframevevo · 4 years ago

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can you tell us more about fawnstar? he is epic

he is pretty epic in a nuclear explosion kind of way

the strategy of answering oc asks by just talking until i couldnt anymore seemed to work pretty well last time so im just going to do that again. ive also been putting this ask off for too long cuz i knew it was going to take forever to answer LOL, i will note though if some things dont make sense theres a good chance im just dancing around spoiling things because hes One of Those types of ocs, you can still ask about certain things (the way im typing this has the 3 times ive said the word things lining up and its really throwing me off) but theres no guarantee i’ll be able to answer them, at least truthfully (theres like a 50% chance im going to intentionally lie about shit when answering this ask btw. just so you know <3)

anyway, fawnstar (he/they nonbiney; no last name, groveclan leaders have their surnames revoked upon leadership) is groveclan’s leader and has been for about *papers shuffling sfx* four-ish years now but dont take that as final because i just realised i dont like the age they wouldve been when they became leader lmfao

fawnstar doesn’t have any known surviving biological family. his mother, eveningeye (she/her), died two years after he became leader and was given a brief and detached funeral. their biological father was a kittypet (which is also where they got The Mane Genetic from) although fawnstar was never told that and to this day doesnt know, not that they care either. also *inserts pic of eveningeye i dont remember even drawing*

fawnstar was made leader after the previous leader, buckstar (he/him tom, also important note: groveclan leaders are chosen at birth and are named after the current leader. this is a tradition that ended with fawnstar), was killed in an ambush. around half a day after buckstar had left camp and not returned, fawnstar - fawnfur at the time - who had been in and out of camp sporadically for the past 2 months, had returned to camp alone in the midst of literally dying, said some incomprehensible shit about rogues and collapsed in the medicine cat den and was left under the care of marblepaw whilst half the clan went out looking for buckstar or any signs of rogues. buckstar’s body was never found, although rogue scent was detected on the outskirts of groveclan’s territory. as a result of this incident, the clans have become much more unforgiving and hostile toward rogues.

as the search for buckstar or any rogues was going on, marblepaw had officially declared fawnfur as dead. no one’s ever let marbleheart live down the fact they declared a cat dead only for said cat to get back up three minutes later, but they still stand by the fact that there would’ve been no way for a fatal neck wound like that to just fix itself, or for them to fix it either.

after the incident, fawnfur became leader and appointed cranecloud (who passed away about... 2 years ago from present day) as their deputy. cranecloud had to do most of the work for the first 3 weeks as fawnstar took time to physically and mentally recover from the event, their voice never fully recovered and four years later they still permanently sound like they need to clear their throat. they never really recovered mentally either.

anyway! that fun stuff aside, fawnstar is a very, very very very very lenient leader to an irritating extent to his clanmates who actually care about the warrior code, ie the hopeheart thing and how when one of his clanmates openly brought in a half floodclan kit his reaction was to shrug and go, “not my problem”. fawnstar’s only concern with the warrior code is avoiding any conflict with the other clans, to the point where he’s pushed his boundaries with each of them far enough that he’s figured out how each will react toward a public break in the code and who he’s safest to fuck up with.

speaking of the clan he’s safest to fuck up with, floodclan and groveclan have a very amicable relationship. this is more of a floodclan thing so i’ll talk more about it when i get to them/the leader, but floodclan has a very... inhabitable territory during the winter. long story short it gets flooded when the rain gets to its worst who’d have thunk it in a place where “flood” is in the name, floodclan’s way of dealing with this is splitting the clan in two and sending half of them to groveclan, who’s camp is on higher ground, until the rain passes since the Still Habitable part of the clan is too small to hold *papers shuffling sfx 2* ~26 cats all at once. usually the deputy and leader would take it in turns to visit each year, but shadowstar (he/she/they tom), floodclan’s current leader, is almost always the one to visit, unless there’s a new deputy who hasn’t taken the lead on the trip before.

there have been challenges to fawnstar’s leadership and how he’s running the clan in the past, but none ended well. despite his apparent lack of care toward anything, fawnstar is still... a very big and very intimidating cat, and a very openly “if you fuck with me im going to crush you like a bug” type of cat. he’s not dictator-like in any way, he doesn’t care enough to be, but any standoffs he’s been made to have against his own clanmates have ended in said clanmate being almost literally backed into a corner and forced to back down.

additionally they’re a very scary cat to have to come into contact with in battle. they don’t take part in them often in the rare occurences they have to happen, but groveclan has a heavy focus on training their warriors to be as effective and strong as possible which is also applied to cats who are Assigned Leader At Birth as fawnstar was. fawnstar was personally given very extreme training, and it’s one of the few things they keep from their younger life and actively makes an effort to keep in the shape they are, even despite their age. oh theyre also very scary because of the apparent immortality and not caring about pain thing! thats scary too.

anyway jesus i just noticed how long of an uninterrupted wall of text this is. im not done but here’s a warrior age fawnstar to break it up a little

to talk more in length about his relationships with others since i havent done it very specifically already heres a few i can think off of the top of my head:

rainwatcher is fawnstar’s deputy and adopted son who they took in after banishing his biological mother on grounds of neglect. even in adulthood they’re still very close. some groveclan residents think it’s a total joke that in the first election for deputy they’ve ever done it’s just a ~coincidence~ the leader’s son wins but fawnstar still refutes there would have been literally no way to fake a winner, they werent even the one counting. if anything fawnstar would have been more comfortable with someone else coming out on top, it’s not that they think rainwatcher is a bad deputy, but they’d rather anyone else in the clan be in such a “precarious” rank than their own son.

marbleheart... does not like fawnstar at all... i feel like it would be very easy to be furious (and terrified) at someone who not only seemingly died and got back up, but made sure everyone thought you were an idiot who was “hallucinating” it. there’s other reasons marbleheart doesn’t like fawnstar but you know 💅 that’s their business *touch tone telephone starts playing, but anyways*

they also have a pretty close relationship with silvermoon (she/her molly), floodclan’s deputy. i’ll talk more about silvermoon when i talk about her in her own post (she IS little ms protagonist herself after all), but silvermoon has been visiting during every winter migration to groveclan since she was a kit and has come to view fawnstar as some weird uncle figure, which is also encouraged (for lack of better word since its 8am right now and i cant think anymore) by shadowstar, silvermoon’s mentor, since he has a.. fairly close relationship with fawnstar too

i know you want me to talk about fawnstars relationship to shadowstar now after saying what i just said and im intentionally not going to <3 you will simply have to ask or wait <3

less specifically, fawnstar is typically very distant from his clanmates, apart from frequently visiting the nursery. it’s one of the only times he makes an effort to leave the clan’s garden (ill talk about what i mean by garden some other time its a territory thing lol) apart from gatherings (and seemingly wandering out into the night sometimes, but that’s his business, i guess...), he’s very watchful over the nursery and the kits and cares very deeply for each of them. arguably the only rule in the warrior code they care for is the one about protecting any and all kits.

anyways, theres definitely more but my brain isnt letting me remember other things to talk about so heres some fun little trivia facts

they have a pet family of snails in the clans garden

this story takes place in the same universe where the canon clans exist in a “what if we took the clans and pushed them (made new ones) somewhere else” way but key figures in clan history are still remembered. one time someone remarked to fawnstar, “hey, youre orange like that firestar guy apparently was” and its the hardest fawnstar had laughed in literally years

they’re gay in a “he never married” way. dont worry about what i mean by this

their least favorite ~historical figure~ is brokenstar, for obvious reasons. if he could he’d kill him three times.

he has adhd

ok thats all i have for now! feel free to ask me about anything here but ive only been awake for like 3 hours and also im very hungry so if any of this is incomprehensible it is simply not my problem!!! thank you for asking about my little war criminal!!!

#ask #long post #jesus this is long im getting something to eat now LOL #feel free to ask for like...clarificaiton on any of this or anything lol #i like being asked about my ocs is all <3 plus theres obviously a lot i missed here #skinwretch

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big-ass-magnet · 4 years ago

Text

When History Comes Calling, Ch 5/14

art by @snuffes

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high, and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel, the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes!

Silversun Strip was…certainly something. Kiryn had been through his fair share of space stations, and this riot of shining glass and neon lights made them all look like space-bound towns. Actually, now that he thought about it, the Strip outpaced quite a few cities he’d seen, too.

This was another one of the few barely-scathed areas, although less because it had been well protected and more likely because it contained nothing the Reapers would have considered vital to survival. Clearly the genocidal synthetics from beyond dark space had never heard how important enrichment was for an organic’s mental wellbeing. Even here, though, there were signs of a struggle -- unpatched bullet holes in the walls and ripped up floor panels roped off as tripping hazards.

Nowhere to get away from it, Kiryn thought, even on your days off.

Kiryn moved with the flow of the crowd, letting them carry him down the streets as he planned his entrance. The easiest way to get inside an apartment building was through the service entrance. Half the time someone had propped the door open and you could stroll right in.

When he reached the right alleyway, he extricated himself from the crush of people, turned the corner, and scrapped the plan because there were two undercover officers hovering outside the building. They were doing their best to stay hidden, and their Citadel janitorial staff outfits looked legitimate. But they watched the doors a little too closely, kept their hands a little too close to their jackets, stood a little too warily.

So he ducked into the nearest building, which did have the service entrance propped open. He strolled down the corridor, through the lobby, and back out into the street. No sign of anyone watching the front entrance, which was interesting. Likely they were putting their trust in the building’s electronic security system. No trouble there; Kiryn knew his way around those, too.

This would be a little trickier, though. There was no way to avoid being seen, so he had to rely on not being remembered. Kiryn stuck his hands in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders, arranged his expression into one of mild interest. Nice and casual, everyone is supposed to be where they are. He strolled past the furniture store, pretended to be briefly intrigued by the sale on bed frames (five hundred credits off full size or bigger!), and finally approached Tiberius Towers’ front entrance.

He hit the call button for 15B. No response. Good. His assumption had been a safe bet: anyone who would have been in the apartment would be with Shepard. With Keris. With his sister.

Find the moment.

Stay focused.

He hit the button again.

Kiryn heaved a sigh, put on an expression of exasperation, and leaned on the button. If there had been anyone in the apartment, they would have answered by now just to make the noise stop. He pretended not to notice the turian woman approaching until she was right next to him.

“Um, excuse me.”

Kiryn glanced up and hurriedly stepped aside.

“Sorry,” he said, with an embarrassed smile. “My friend isn’t picking up.”

“That’s okay, I can let you in.”

He filed away the code she keyed in as he said “appreciate it.”

She gave him a little half-wave as she entered the elevator; he returned it as he opened the door to the stairs. Instead of climbing, however, he ducked into the shadows beneath them and took a look at the security system.

It wasn’t bad, not by a long shot, but he’d gotten around harder systems for less important people. It took less than thirty seconds to slip under the security firewalls and upload a virus that would loop the video as he went by. Anyone watching would see empty stairs.

All fifteen flights of them.

Maybe he should have taken the elevator.

Fifteen flights gave him a long time to think. He should upgrade his omni-tool. Top-of-the-line in the Hegemony tended to be middling quality anywhere else, even if you went through the black market. He should find a more comprehensive map of the Citadel, and find which areas were the dangerous ones. Experience told him that the law was likely concentrated at the Presidium, and got more diluted the further away you went.

Equally important was finding an easy way in and out of the refugee camp. Sarah had been right about the Citadel’s priorities. The guards at the doors were very concerned with who came and went. Security reasons, they claimed, when anyone could tell it was because they didn’t want the grubby little refugees actually on the Citadel, just in case they bothered the locals or, god forbid, started to think they could make a home here.

Dad would have had a conniption, he thought, and nearly missed a step in his surprise.

Perhaps he should be less surprised. Keris was alive. Of course that would drag those thoughts to the surface.

Thomas Shepard had very strong opinions about duty and responsibility, especially in regards to officers of the law. Kiryn had heard quite a few rants about what should happen to public servants who did not serve the public. Dad didn’t much approve of soldiers, either. Armies were built on the promise of protecting the people, and politicians turned them into tools for their own ends.

What would he think of his daughter joining the Navy?

Soldiers hunt soldiers, but Shepards hunt--

Kiryn stopped, midstep. He couldn’t remember. It had practically been the family motto, and he couldn’t remember. He could remember sitting at the table during dinner, his father gesturing with his fork, a four-way eyeroll between the Shepard children…

Shepards hunt...

This was pointless. What did it matter? He had more important things to do than try and remember things like that.

Besides, he was on the fifteenth floor. He checked again that the video was still looping correctly. That was a lesson you only had to learn once. As soon as he was sure it was safe, he pushed open the door and stepped confidently into the hallway. Not that it mattered -- but if anyone opened their door unexpectedly, he didn’t want to appear suspicious.

The door to apartment 15B opened as soon as he touched it.

Genetic sequence recognized.

It was a paranoid individual who used gene coded locks on their front door. He supposed Commander Shepard would have a lot of enemies.

Kiryn stepped inside and stopped dead, eyes wide. Oh, this was very, very far from the prefab housing on Mindoir. Filomet’s estate had been quite high status, thanks to the work Kiryn did for him, but it seemed downright spartan in comparison to this.

Filomet certainly didn’t have an indoor waterfall, that was for sure.

Or a hot tub.

For a few minutes he didn’t do much searching, just wandered around taking it all in. When he did start, it was a little disappointing. The apartment had a strange, semi-empty feeling that had nothing to do with it being new. Like a hotel, he thought. The art was tasteful and impersonal. All the furniture matched.

It was a place to stay, not a place to live.

The apartment was definitely inhabited, though, and by more than one person. There was food in the fridge and the cabinets, chirality carefully delineated by colored tape and, on occasion, sharpie. DEXTRO COFFEE, DO NOT DRINK, KAIDAN THIS MEANS YOU promised a very interesting story. The beds were made, but rumpled; there were a variety of products in the (three!) bathrooms.

The master bedroom felt no more lived in. There was a credit chit and a datapad on the bedside table, but no pictures, no clutter. At last Kiryn hit paydirt in the walk-in closet: a weapons table and an armor locker.

From the scattered mods and spare parts he could see she carried multiple firearms, but favored assault rifles and shotguns -- she liked it up close and personal. There were a few melted pieces that suggested she had a tendency to push her thermal clips a little too far. Kiryn felt a warm sensation in his chest. Fondness. In this way, at least, Keris had not changed.

Kiryn opened the locker. Her armor was black, but a deep black that would stand out anywhere but a sealed bunker underground. The crisp white and red stripes seemed to glow in contrast. Kiryn picked up the chest plate and nearly dropped it again. It was hard to imagine Keris could walk in this, let alone fight!

He tilted the chest plate this way and that, watching the lustrous finish shine in the light. Keris was the target. She sacrificed speed and mobility for armor that could brush off anything short of cannon fire, drawing the attention and the danger to herself, hitting the enemy head on like a battering ram.

Yes, that sounded very like Keris.

Kiryn nearly smiled as he put the armor back in place.

There were spare clothes in the drawers, but only two items hanging in the closet: a dress uniform, and an actual dress. Beneath them, shiny parade shoes and a pair of sensible black heels a full two inches higher than he’d ever seen Keris wear in his life.

The dress was the only really nice piece of clothing Keris owned, although Kiryn personally thought she could have found a nicer one. (The neckline alone was fifty years out of date, and he wasn’t even going to touch on those red highlighting lines.) There were a scant few articles of non-regulation clothing; by the looks of things she wore her crewman’s uniform even on her days off. That was...worrying. He didn’t remember her being much of a peacock, but she wouldn’t wear the same outfit twice in two weeks, let alone every single day. Kiryn never cared--

No. No, it was the other way around, wasn’t it?

Kiryn was the one who had cared. He’d spend an hour in the bathroom just doing his hair. He was the one who made sure his shoes matched his outfit; who complained about pale skin making it impossible to wear yellow without looking jaundiced. Keris would just throw on whatever her hand touched first, and dutifully go back and change when he told her for the fifth time, Ker, you can’t wear two kinds of stripes at once!

But she’d always liked it when they matched.

Kiryn looked down and brushed a hand over his shirt - dark gray, long sleeves, close fitting. It wasn’t all that different from what he wore on a job, minus some padding. He didn’t have much room to judge, did he? You could argue that slaves didn’t exactly have access to the latest fashions or the funds to buy them with. But he hadn’t been a slave for almost a year, and he hadn’t changed anything about his appearance.

He even still shaved his head.

Kiryn closed the drawers and walked away, not liking the tightness in his chest those thoughts brought on.

The first bug went in the office by the computer, before he tried to crack Keris’ password. It wasn’t any of the ones he remembered, so he had to let his omnitool take over. While he did so, he poked around in the boxes scattered around the room. Keris -- or someone else -- was halfway through taking down or putting up a collection of books and medals. He looked at the medals, but they didn’t match the accolades Keris was supposed to have earned. One of the books looked heavily used; he flipped it open. To David, so you can have another kind of adventure. Love, Kaylie.

David. Who was David? The tabloids made enough of a fuss over Keris’ imaginary paramours, surely they would have mentioned it if she was actually seeing someone.

For that matter, who was Kaylie?

His omnitool flashed, notifying him that the hack was complete. He checked to see the password -- I<3Garrus. Hopefully the contents of her computer would be able to solve that little mystery.

Kiryn set his program to download anything not labelled confidential, urgent, or as being sent from the Alliance. He had no interest in top secret projects and black ops missions. The program cheerfully informed him that it wouldn’t take long, as his requests filtered out almost the entire backlog.

Most people would advise against poking around in your sister’s extranet browsing history, but Kiryn was willing to risk it. No luck there either. The last time she’d used the computer was almost a month ago, mostly to read news articles and browse furniture catalogues.

Kiryn wasn’t sure if it was more frustrating or concerning. His sister didn’t seem to do much outside of… being Commander Shepard. Even saviors of the galaxy had to have free time. Didn’t she ever take shore leave?

What do you like to do?

It didn’t seem right. It was… logical that he would end up this way. But Keris was free. She had been able to choose. Why would she choose to be like...like him? If he had been free, would he still have ended up like this? No life, no purpose, no existence outside of his work?

With a whole galaxy on her shoulders, maybe she’d felt there wasn’t time for anything else. Maybe now that it was all over, things would be different for her.

Maybe they should be different for him, too.

The rest of the apartment was unhelpfully empty. He left his last bug in the kitchen, and made a mental note to get more. Alcohol loosened tongues; it would be good to have an ear at the bar. Feeling a little disappointed, Kiryn could only hope that the emails would be more enlightening.

He forwent the shuttle to the refugee camp in favor of walking. He had some things to pick up, after all. And it was harder to be introspective when he walked. Too much to focus on in the real world.

A new omni-tool, as he’d promised himself, although it would take a few hours of voiding the warranty to get it to do the things he needed it to do. Some mods for his sniper rifle -- the Hegemony was wrong about a lot of things, and the superiority of Batarian State Arms was now very high on his list. He’d have to find someplace out of sight where he could work on his gun, though.

Kiryn was pondering whether renting a hotel room for a few hours for the privacy to work on his very illegal rifle was as ridiculous as it sounded, when he saw something that made him stop.

The store was called Terran. It sold clothes. Nice clothes that looked to be good quality, from this distance. Suits and dresses and casual wear. And leather jackets.

He’d been saving up for one before…before. Had it all picked out, knew exactly what he wanted. It cost a lot of money to ship out to little colonies in the middle of nowhere. He’d barely been halfway to his goal when…

Why shouldn’t he buy one now? He had the money. He could wear whatever he wanted to, now.

Kiryn began to walk towards the store, but a few feet away, he froze.

He didn’t need another jacket. It had no tactical advantage over what he already had. And how could he explain it when he got back to the camp? Refugees didn’t wear things like that any more than slaves did.

Kiryn stared at his reflection in the storefront window. The pale, drawn face so carefully free of emotion. Placid eyes like green glass, hooded and empty. There was no way to tell by looking at him that he was one of the most feared assassins in batarian space. The blood on his hands was invisible to everyone but himself. Everything about him faded into the background, and that was by design and necessity.

He turned on his heel and headed for the shuttle. The sooner he got back to the camp, the sooner he could check Keris’ emails.

#mass effect #commander shepard #femshep #dudeshep #twin au #alternate universe fic #i'm sorry it's so late i got sick orz

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legobiwan · 5 years ago

Note

Despite your (justified) criticism of them, I'd like to hear your favourite positives about Qui Gon and the Jedi

Absolutely!

And as an introduction, yes, I love to pull on the threads of things to watch them unravel and then follow those tangled paths to their conclusions. (The fun in this is exploring the possibilities and the whys and wherefores.) The Jedi institution and the Jedi therein were flawed and those flaws were exploited - to a catastrophic degree by Sidious but also by others along the way, which created a network of fascinating causes and effects that I just find endlessly fun to explore. The Jedi were slow to change, too immersed in tradition, aware of their shortcomings but seemingly unable to do anything about it.1 This being said, their ideals, their basic philosophies of nonattachment, of duty, of their place in the galaxy - those were solid, if not wholly attainable by any sentient. (”Seekers, not saints,” as the saying might go.) At the end of the day, I consider myself a staunch Jedi apologist, even if I will first run them through the wringer before I get to that point.

But anyway -

Qui-gon

My favorite problematic Jedi.

I think this quote from Master and Apprentice is very illustrative:

And this, I think, is the true embodiment of Qui-gon Jinn. He doesn’t negate the fact the darkness will always exist, that terrible things and people will inhabit the galaxy. But he emphasizes (to Rael, who is a bit more nihilistic about the Code and life at that point) he turns to the Light not because of the Jedi, or Yoda, or the Code - but because it is the right thing to do.

It actually reminds me a lot of this quote that’s been going around irl2:

And it’s true. Turning to the Light will not win you any points. This isn’t a game or a sports event, and in the true sense of balance, there is no real victor in the end. You can choose the dark and it will always be there to balance the Light because there is no Light without Dark and vice versa. But does one want to live their life in the shadows or attempt to create something better, even if it is a Sisyphean task, in a chaotic and unruly universe? Qui-gon - for all his foibles and occasionally terrible execution - lives by this, sometimes in spite of the Jedi as an institution. And I admire that about him.

And it’s this type of mindset, that sees the Light as something beyond the Code, beyond the Jedi as an institution, that makes Qui-gon such an effective “maverick.” I love his reasoning for training Padawans away from Coruscant:

This is so good, such a fantastic idea, and it makes me yearn for an AU Council where Qui-gon did take the seat (and then Rael could have finished Obi-wan’s training which would have been hilarious). The Council needed someone like Qui-gon who would challenge them at every turn, who would not accept the answers of “status quo” and “tradition” as acceptable. (And we all know from whom Qui-gon inherited this tendency, although Dooku was trying too hard to be an exemplary Jedi to be able to be the maverick either Rael or Qui-gon turned out to be. Which mirrors...someone else I could talk about.)

Qui-gon questions, constantly, and if he had lived past TPM, he would have likely been a thorn in Palpatine’s side because he would have raised issues like this:

The Council needed a strong, dissenting voice, and Qui-gon would have been it.

Even beyond this, however, Qui-gon cares. He subverts certain Jedi morals (and probably Republic law) to free Anakin. (And guess who, many years later, subverted Republic law in several attempts to do good, attempts that came so close to unveiling Sidious. Yes, I’m talking about Obi-wan, if you were wondering.) He refuses to sign the treaty with Czerka because it will enslave Pijal for eternity. His ideals are not bound by a (the) Code, by his place in an Order, but by something deeper, by a moral imperative to do the right thing.

(And also, without Qui-gon, would we have had Force ghosts?)

We can learn a lot from Qui-gon, even if (as I said) his execution of his ideals left some bodies in its wake.

The Jedi

One of the things I love about the Jedi is their approach to attachment. And I’m always reminded of this T.S. Eliot quote I got from a horoscope 10 years ago in a local alt-weekly paper that I ripped out and have carried with me since:

“We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then.“

Everything in this universe is fluid and in my mind, out society places far too much importance on a linear trajectory, on this cause-and-effect growth of “this is who you were and this is where you will be according to our metrics.” People change. Goals change. Life happens. Friends, lovers, strangers - they flirt in and out of our lives, always impactful, but never forever. And therefore, attachment - a form of control, a way of executing a will on an unknowable and recalcitrant universe - tends to be detrimental. And this isn’t to say that one should be without meaning and maintain some form of attachment to people and ideals and identities. But it’s a matter of managing that. Which is...not easy for anyone.3

I love the alternate Jedi Code.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

It acknowledges that we will feel, will experience all these emotions and stimuli, but we can work on observing our reactions, and then watching them fly away.

And in a lot of cases, this is good. We need to be able to observe our own reactions, as if in a scientific experiment. I experience this, but it doesn't not define me, is a great way to deal with adverse circumstances.4

Taken to an extreme, however, and things get a little dicey.

The Jedi wanted to do good, hell, they even allowed themselves to be policed by the Republic to show their non-intrusive intentions to the populace. And a bunch of psychic space monks can be a little scary - let the holomedia get a hold of that narrative and things could go downhill real fast.

Mace wanted to see justice. Yoda wanted to see peace. Obi-wan wanted to see order. Anakin wanted to see love. None of this is bad, none of this necessarily conflicts with the Code. The Jedi believed all life connected through the Force, and it’s kind of beautiful, in a The Good Place-type of way that, I think, gives some real optimism to our whole sentient existence on this floating rock. And the Jedi, they give up everything, even if it isn’t necessarily by choice, to devote themselves to a higher ideal, to - at its core - helping. To - as the Qui-gon quote references - a greater good and the defense of that greater good in spite of everything.

In the end, I feel like it was really a matter of ideals vs. institutions. Jedi ideals are wonderful. Jedi institutions, like any, have their own inherent difficulties.The Jedi. as a whole. were doing their best to stick to their ideals in a non-ideal situation. Traditional culture versus ideals, however, is a whole other story.

1 this is very connected to my feelings about the classical music industry which are complicated and deep

2 uhhh, you paying attention, America?

3 I think this is where Dooku’s inherent nihilism came into play. And there’s no easy answer to any of this. Also, life is weird, you guys.

4 This is literally how I managed a very severe phobia of flying. Had to cleave the connection between fear I am going to die now and being in a plane. Which is hilarious, because prior to COVID, I was flying A LOT.

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #qui gon jinn #the jedi #and now #time to go running #back later tumblr

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rainsonata · 4 years ago

Text

Doppelgänger 13/15

Chapter 13: Transformation

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: T Word Count: 10,034

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves

AO3 Link I FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —

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

Class Notes:

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen

Alternative Path: Rune Master, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

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

Herrscher

Immortal’s friends called it the Demon Realm. Demons referred to the region they have arrived at as Varnimyr, a land of darkness inhabited by the Dark Elves and demonic creatures. This Demon Realm was similar to the one Herrscher and Immortal’s friends came from. It was in the sword user’s interest to regroup with the rest of the El Search Party, or what was left of it, to acquire the Dark El. Herrscher no longer cared for the El, but it was important to Immortal.

Unlike Immortal’s friends, he wasn’t as concerned about the trivial details of concepts like timelines and dimensions. Herrscher went wherever Immortal went. Humans, elves, and demons were not aware that timelines and dimensions overlapped with each other. How could they be when most were more concerned about themselves?

“Why do we bother waiting for them?” Paradox was referring to their counterparts. In his child form, the time traveler groaned. “We can’t stay longer than we should.”

“When did you start to care about that? You made it very difficult to find you.” Offering his hand to Herrscher, the redhead felt how cold and lifeless the other being’s hands were, “Are you okay, Ain? I didn’t come too late, did I?”

Herrscher shook his head. Fighting Richter would not be an inconvenience, he wanted to tell Immortal. He would have been able to deflect his alternate’s attacks but accepted his friend’s concern.

Lying on the floor with his face half turned, Herrscher took Immortal’s hand without hesitation, noting how warm they were in contrast to his. He too used to possess the same warmth humans had. Without attachments to the Goddess, he was beyond redemption, yet Immortal allowed him to stay by the swordsman’s side.

“You weren’t supposed to find me,” Paradox sneered.

If looks could kill, Immortal would have been six feet under from the glares Paradox was sending to the multiweapon user. Herrscher couldn't understand why Immortal placed trust in him (“A bad decision, really.” Paradox quipped. Herrscher agreed.). Appearing when opportunities of scourging the El arose, Paradox’s appearances were sporadic with no apparent objective in mind. His unorthodox fighting style made him a formidable ally, but only when their objectives happened to align.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Herrscher let a breeze cool down his core from its excessive use. Dimension traveling was more of Metamorphy’s area of practice than his, which was manipulating and traveling in between the void of the abyss. Not that Immortal understood that no matter how many times he explained it.

“Finding you was such a hassle,” Immortal complained. “Do you know how many dimensions it took to get here? Did you know there’s a dimension where people pay millions of ED to watch girls like Aisha sing?”

“Why should I care?” Paradox deadpanned.

“There was a dimension where we were all maids,” Immortal ignored the snide question. He grabbed Paradox by the shoulders and dropped his voice into a stage whisper, “You wore pigtails and said some very rude things to me.”

With little clues to where Paradox could have gone, it took Herrscher and Immortal several attempts to guess the correct coordinates. Herrscher was omniscient to what happened in the void, but not what happened to inhabitants in other dimensions. Immortal proclaimed he had a hunch for the fifth time before Metamorphy unceremoniously took over the team despite the younger man’s protesting. It appeared that Metamorphy did not place as much trust in their leader as Herrscher did, but he had to acknowledge that their method was not efficient in finding Paradox.

“Where are the other losers?” Paradox searched for the fourth member of their team.

“You mean our friends?” Immortal snickered when he caught the time traveler scowling. “Come on, did you think I would be that irresponsible to bring a bunch of people with me?”

“Why would that be a problem?” Furious Blade examined Paradox’s child form. He didn’t explicitly voice his thoughts, but his emotions were clear from the confusion in his knitted brows to the existence of the time traveler. “Tell me what happens if there are too many of us.”

“Having all of you here is making everything unstable,” Paradox said with a bored expression. “When there are too many of you, it overwhelms the dimension until it’s forced to reset itself by destroying everything inside it.”

“Which is funny because that means some of you will stop having noses and turn flat like a pancake,” Immortal laughed. “Then the sky turns upside down and you’re breathing underwater.”

“Not funny,” Paradox growled, displeased by Immortal’s side comment. “If I have to clean up another mess you made one more time, I’m leaving you here.”

“That’s cruel,” Immortal chuckled. “Anyway, it’s impossible to get everyone here.” He stopped smiling and leaned his head back. His eyes turned glassy and his voice became quieter, “I haven’t seen Elesis in weeks and I’m not sure where Lu and Ciel went.”

Herrscher exchanged a dark look to Paradox, who averted his gaze and feigned a yawn of disinterest. The time traveler’s face relaxed, but the rest of his body was tense and his shoulders rose to the mentions of Bloody Queen. Restless and unable to remain idle in the wake of the El’s instability, she disappeared one night with a cryptic note that spoke little of her whereabouts. Immortal shrugged it off as his sister leaving with good intentions, but Herrscher had come to understand that he was doing what humans called a facade. Their leader was pretending that he wasn’t bothered by his sister having gone missing.

Iblis and Anular’s presence was as erratic as Paradox, coming and going whenever Immortal and his friends were fighting bigger monsters and demons. Anular was nothing more than a shadow of his former self, silently following his master without raising his voice. He was what Herrscher was if he still had devotion for his creator. There was nothing but the void to answer his calls.

“Why did you look for me?” Paradox asked.

“Can’t a guy call his friend when he misses him?” Immortal feigned a hurt expression.

His eyes grew bigger in what he called ‘puppy eyes’. Herrscher didn’t see the resemblance because Immortal wasn’t a canine with ears and a tail. However, it was a human expression used when the late Sieghart wanted something from the person he was talking to.

“Spare me the excuses.” Paradox rolled his eyes.

“Fine, you’re no fun.” Immortal dropped the farce and snorted, “We tried to get back into the Demon Realm, but got lost because we don’t have the right coordinates. So we went to look for you since that’s your thing.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then we’ll be stuck here to annoy you until you help us,” Immortal said with a lazy grin.

Light flashed around Paradox. His limbs elongated into thin lanky appendages and his hair reached to his ankles. As an adult, he was almost a head taller than Immortal. He looked down at the redhead and crossed his arms as the two of them engaged in a staring contest.

“Tada~ Raven and I are finally here!” A small shadow appeared with one hand on their hip and flashing a victory pose. “Sorry to keep you waiting ♥.”

“There were more demons than we anticipated,” Nova Imperator apologized. Dressed in black and red, the former leader of the Black Crows carried a heavy blade over his shoulder with a Nasod arm. Towering over Metamorphy, he made quiet footsteps and always placed care in his words.

“I knew they didn’t come without you,” Paradox continued leering at their leader.

“Hey, don’t ignore a girl when she talks to you!” Metamorphy growled. Walking between the two men, she had to tilt her head back to glower at Paradox. She jabbed a glove finger into his chest where the glowing core was. “Do you know how long it took us to figure out which dimension you were in?”

“Yes, yes, Elbrat told me.” Paradox rolled his eyes again. “And I suppose you’re going to say I messed up this dimension too.”

“Yes, you did!” She waved her arm in reference to the corrupted sky, “Look at it, it’s tearing itself apart!”

Ms. Magical Girl was correct with the sky breaking up like the static of primitive human devices Immortal once found under wreckage in Altera. Deep shades of red and violet cracked beneath the sea of blue, giving a crackled effect from the shards created by Paradox portals. Herrscher had visited many dimensions, but seeing structures of the current one become undone reminded him of Henir.

“That’s flattering, but not everything is my fault.” Paradox cackled, “I’m not the one bringing over extra people to break the dimension further.”

“So it’s my fault because he wouldn’t stop asking me where you went?” Metamorphy gestured to Immortal. “He kept saying ‘Add would help!’ and now you’re acting smart with me?”

“I’m already smart,” the man smirked.

Metamorphy screamed.

“Aisha, no!” Immortal fought to pull the staff away from Metamorphy. “You can’t hit our ride home!”

The magical girl held her staff high with both hands like a baseball bat, tilting it to one side and aiming for Paradox. She lost her balance and fell headfirst into the ground when Immortal wrestled to stop her.

“It’s always ‘Aisha, take us to Elrios’, ‘Aisha, we need to get to the Demon Realm’. We looked for this guy because you asked nicely,” Metamorphy sat up and dusted herself. “I’m the only one who can do that because this brat only shows up when he feels like it. Ain only does it when Elsword tells him to.”

“That’s why I need you to stop fighting long enough so we can get home.” Immortal let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t need us to break another dimension.”

“Another?” Blade repeated.

“It must be confusing and overwhelming to see all of us,” Nova slapped his hand over Paradox’s shoulder. “Hope our lost cat didn’t give you trouble. How many of you are there?”

Paradox scowled; he shoved Nova’s hand aside and hissed in being compared to a small animal. Even in his adult form, he appeared shorter than his actual height with his head lowered and having a crouched back. His tails twitched and coiled against his thigh like an angry feline.

Unoffended by the time traveler’s rejection, Nova exchanged a sheepish smile to Blade’s wary one.

“Twenty-four. He kidnapped one of our friends,” Blade said without tact.

Herrscher heard footsteps from behind them. There were many of them. It sounded like there were at least half a dozen of them. A deep frown indented into Herrscher’s features, unable to recognize the sound of the strangers’ footsteps. They belonged to people he had not met before. They must be the people Daybreaker coaxed Richter into alerting about their presence.

“They’re here,” Herrscher said.

A man stormed into their circle with a wild look in his eyes, his face identical to Paradox’s. Having a set of Nasods circling around the scientist, Dominator walked around half-dressed with bed hair and his jacket sliding down one shoulder. The sleep-deprived scientist ignored Herrscher’s presence but gawked at Paradox, recognizing his own face in a mix of awe and disgust.

“There’s five of them now?” Dominator stopped to catch his breath.

“You’re already out of breath? You don’t look like you’re used to doing more than lifting a pen.” Empire observed Immortal’s friends bickering, “They all look and act so different.”

“We arrived as soon as we heard from Richter about new people coming,” Crusader was behind Dominator. “Has there been any conflict?”

“No,” Blade shook his head. “It looks like they’re here to take back Paradox. They came here with the help of their Aisha and Ain. Those two seem to have control over dimension and space.”

Eyes turned to Herrscher, who was standing as still as the dead trees the Dark Elves used to make their bows at the edge of Varnimyr. Not as talkative as his teammates, Herrscher was one to let others discuss what was needed to fulfill their needs. There was little to be added to the conversation when they could continue talking without him.

“You’re Ain?” Empire stared.

“Yes,” Herrscher said. “Is there something you want to address with me?”

“N-no,” she waved both hands and shook her head.

Queen’s alternate momentarily lost her composure and gawked at the celestial. Herrscher didn’t mind the stares, but the captain of the Velder Knights did. Forcing her eyes away, Empire turned her head and faked a cough. Her face tinged pink from the blood rushing up to her cheeks as she mumbled an apology for her rudeness. Herrscher never would have seen such a display of emotions from Immortal’s sister.

“Their team has three people with dimensional powers?” Dominator frowned.

“Other members of the party are on their way,” Ultimate reported. The Nasod queen of destruction gazed at Paradox’s adult form, analyzing the time traveler’s machines and processing the data from the rest of the third El Search Party. “Rena said it was urgent.”

“She makes it sound scarier than it actually is,” Crusader chuckled. “It’s like a giant union party. I didn’t think more people would show up.”

“Let’s hope there aren’t more,” Dominator had a dark expression. “According to Dynamo, we’re pushing this dimension at its limits.”

“Who’s fault was that?” Blade deadpanned.

“Are you placing the blame on me?” Dominator feigned a surprised gasp.

“Yes,” Ultimate and Blade said.

Worn down with heavy eyelids, the former mercenary rested his human arm over the base of his blade. He, the elf, and Ishmael’s idol were on watch and patrol when Herrscher found them by Immortal’s orders. Their whispers reached into the depths of the woods where Herrscher overheard their conversation. Relaxed and without concern for the dangerous world around them, Daybreaker and Richter’s conversion reminded Herrscher of a more innocent time. When Herrscher first met Twilight and was curious about her upbringing in an elven village, before he lost sight of the Goddess and could no longer hear her.

“Then who was the one who kidnapped Elbrat and made us go on this mad chase?” Dominator huffed.

“We can blame each other all day, but that’s beside the point.” Empire said, “Look, I know our actions have made us look bad.”

“Taking Elsword hostage increased our stay and the likelihood of the dimension becoming unstable,” Ultimate stated.

“Taking hostage?” Crusader laughed nervously, “Those are strong words, Ultimate.”

“I know,” she said.

“Yes, that.” Empire agreed, “but we cornered Paradox. My brother said he could control time and space. Can’t he return everyone back to their dimensions and reset everything? That should reverse the damage, right?”

“Can you do that?” Metamorphy looked at Paradox.

“If that was the case, then I wouldn’t be here,”the time traveler said.

There were two instances Paradox left an impression on Herrscher. When they first met, Paradox was known as Diabolic Esper and caused a wreckage in Hamel to rescue their leader. The second time was when Paradox returned from the Forgotten Elrian Sanctum, laughing and crying about how he couldn’t save Her. Despite having powers beyond human technology, Paradox rarely smiled.

“That brings us back to the drawing board,” Crusader groaned.

“I should have known at least one version of myself would actually attempt time travel after talking to the meathead.” Dominator paused, “Wait. Why are you smiling at me?”

“Did you enjoy my present?” Teeth exposed, Paradox bared a wide grin. “It was sad seeing you try so hard to jump dimensions.”

Dominator fumed.

“You made us enter the wrong dimension?” Blade asked.

“He made those coordinates, not me.” Paradox shrugged, “I just gave the device a power boost.”

“What were you doing in their dimension?” Nova asked.

Paradox giggled for an answer.

“If we don’t act quickly, things will get worse.” Empire looked to Metamorphy for answers, “Isn’t there something we can do? We told the El Masters we would retrieve the Dark El, but we also promised to protect the people that live here.”

“Protecting demons? How chivalrous and unlike you,” Metamorphy said with a coy smile. “There’s one person who might be able to fix your problem. Perhaps we can ask for his help, right, Add?”

Paradox hissed.

“Who is it?” Immortal asked.

“Why are you acting like you don’t know?” Metamorphy shook him by the shoulders, “You’re pretending to be funny, right?”

“Actually…” Immortal scratched the base of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

“Dimension has reached its capacity,” Ultimate interrupted the two. “We have fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds to evacuate and resolve the issue before this dimension disintegrates.”

“This can’t be good,” Nova sighed.

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

Nova Imperator

Crimson bled into the deeper indigos, casting away the night and molten light peering past the dusted clouds. Wind picked up loose strands of Nova’s hastily done ponytail. Portals cracked split the skies into smaller fragments, crystals forming around the edges like the ones created by Paradox. Fireballs escaped from portals and crashed at their feet, sending seismic waves through the ground. An unsettling feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as the former mercenary shielded his eyes.

Empire drew her blade and stabbed it into the ground for stability. The captain knight held her ground with gritted teeth. She kneeled down and clamped her eyes shut from the brightness of

the fireballs. Crusader mouthed unheard words over the chaos, reaching out to check on his teammate.

Smoke and fire lingered in the air when the shaking stopped. The fireballs ceased but Nova knew that wasn’t the end of it. The earthquake opened to be brimming with agate and crystals from the Shadow Vein nearby. It wouldn’t be long before demons show up in the wake of the dimension’s demise.

“We need to evacuate everyone,” Nova shouted to his teammates over the chaos.

“There’s twenty-four of them and five of us,” Metamorphy did a quick headcount. “Three of us can take them to a safe place where time and space won’t be affected by all of us existing. This means…”

“Ten people for each of us,” Paradox said. “One of us will only have nine people including ourselves. You two already have the coordinates. I won’t waste time explaining something you two already know.”

For once, Herrscher and Metamorphy didn’t stop to argue the time traveler. Paradox wasn’t an easy person to work with, but was the most familiar with traveling between dimensions. Delaying their evacuation could spell the end for all of them.

“We’re going as smaller groups to find your friends,” Metamorphy explained to the strangers. “Once everyone in our groups are here, we’ll be taking you to a safe place. Why don’t you and Eve come with me?”

His concern mirrored Nova’s. A man who rarely raised his voice, Blade was more comfortable letting others talk while he processed their words. He wore a permanent frown and wasn’t quick to trust, putting thought before he spoke and asking questions before making final decisions.

Ultimate assessed the offer. Examining the new El Search Party with mild interest, Nova caught a faint smile at the edge of her lips. The simple gesture was a reminder that she was sentient and alive, a contrast from the Eve that went by the name Code: Sariel.

“I will join,” Ultimate said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. It was Moby who beeped, bouncing up and down midair in agreement to the Nasod Queen’s decision. “Do you want me to notify the two El Search Parties about the new arrangement?”

“That would be great!” Immortal beamed, “Add will tell you where to meet up and how to split the groups.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Paradox scowled, but pulled out a set of screens to type in the locations and details to send over to Ultimate. “Will this be enough?”

Ultimate didn’t answer immediately. A small ping caused her eyes to briefly light up as the Nasod queen scanned Paradox’s message. With a small nod, her lips quivered as she drafted a message to send to the two El Search parties. Remy beeped once as Ultimate promptly dispatched the memo.

“Thank you, Add.” Ultimate closed her eyes. “We will be meeting them in our respected groups.”

“Hey, you.” Paradox waved his arm over to Dominator. “Edgy brat and the mouse will be with us.”

“I’m edgy?” Immortal looked pleased at what was meant to be an insult.

“Why am I a mouse?” Crusader asked.

“I have a name!” Dominator exclaimed.

Nova had trust that Paradox would stop the group of four from sidetracking. The time traveler was more goal-oriented than Immortal, who sometimes liked to stop and smell the roses. Eye shadows formed under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep and from the amount of energy required in dimensional traveling. The excessive portals in the sky reminded Nova of the man’s antics. He was happy to see Paradox being cooperative with their plan of escape, although the time traveler often took their orders as mere suggestions.

“Is there something you wanted to say to me?” Paradox looked at Nova with suspicion. “Did the brat bring you here to convince me to stay with you losers?”

“Something like that,” Nova laughed. “Good to see we caught up to you before you left. Ain and I were starting to think we wouldn’t find you.”

“I doubt that,” Paradox said. “Am I really worth that effort?”

“Worth it or not, I’m happy to see you will be helping us in evacuating the people we have involved ourselves with.” Nova remarked.

“Yeah, I’m a wonderful person.” Paradox rolled his eyes. “That leaves you with the rest.”

“I’m fine having Ain and Elesis join me,” Nova looked to Herrscher and Empire. “Do you mind?”

Herrscher shook his head.

“We just met, but I will trust you because my teammates do.” Empire agreed.

Before they left, Nova and Immortal made sure they all had the details sent to them by Ultimate based on Paradox’s coordinates. There wasn’t much time before the worse was to come. With little else left to say, Nova made eye contact with the remaining members of the opposing party before parting ways. He had to hope that all of them would act fast enough to avoid premature death. It won’t be long before demons are triggered by the increase of energy coming from the portals.

They headed to the eastern side of the main camp. The sun was starting to sink lower into the horizon when they made their way over with time to spare. Herrscher moved silently beside Nova with no word coming from the abyssal being, a single eye glued to the ground. Empire was more apprehensive, dashing forward with an alert eye over her shoulder with one hand ready to pull out her claymore.

“We’re about five minutes away from our destination,” Nova announced. He slowed himself into a light jog to check the map again. This part of the Demon Realm was similar to the one he and his friends had visited in the past, albeit the falling sky and crumbling dimension.

“Did Paradox make your communicators too?” Empire asked. She showed interest in the devices he and Herrscher possessed.

Designed as an earpiece, each was individually designed to fit comfortably into their owners’ ears. Each device was pristine white with its edges bordered in thin lines of black and pink. Light glowed from its centered blue core marked by a gold trim. With the newest updates, it was able to pick up signals as long as each member was within a short radius.

“No,” Nova said. “Eve did.”

The ground shook. A group of Shadow Drillers emerged from the caverns of the Shadow Vein, scurrying out on their fours and shrieking. Dozens trampled over each other as they struggled to run away from the chaos of the shaking earth. One stepped over another’s tail and snarled. Their cries enraged the rest of the group. One of them made eye contact with Nova and charged.

“Not good,” Nova crossed his blade with a Shadow Driller skull bashing into the base.

“They think we’re the cause of this?” Empire whipped out her claymore. “They’re agitated!”

“Not my concern,” Herrscher said. Pulling his scythe from behind, he produced a white sharpened edge. Dark clouds formed as he suctioned the demons inward to immobilize the frenzied crowd. Black blood squirted out from where Herrscher marked them.

Nova wrestled for control of his blade from a trio of the shadow monsters lunging after his weapon. Flames burst from his Nasod arm to ward off the rest of the Shadow Drillers. Dashing inward, he coated his blade with fire. The demons cried from the intense heat and lashed back.

Red sparks flew from Empire’s blade. She threw herself to the side from a demon curling itself into a ball and rolling out to the red knight. It fired hardened spikes out from the sharp stubs on its body. Empire hissed in pain and let out a warrior cry. Her blade lit up red and gold as she spun around. Demon bodies were tossed into the air and Empire struck through their bodies before they could hit the floor.

Sweat collected at his forehead and energy concentrated from the core of his Nasod arm. Sparks flared from his fingertips. Heat rose and fanned the back of his hair. Flames ignited and burned the demons down, rising higher. Another source of fire exploded from the sides. That wasn’t his flame. A fire demon?

“Sword Fire!” A red-haired man stepped into the flames. He pulled out a great blade and swiped at the masses.

Red runes with the fire insignia became visible in the air. Nova and the demons looked up at the curiosity. The runes glowed a brilliant light before imploding onto their targets, setting the shadow monsters into ablaze. The demons scattered in the surprise ambush, bumping into one another in their attempt to escape.

“Supreme Punishment!” Two figures appeared together.

The enemy was cornered by larger demons summoned by blue flames. The Shadow Drillers and the Shadow Guards whimpered when they were tossed aside. Their eyes glowered at being outnumbered and sank back into the shadows.

“How anticlimactic,” Timoria yawned and pointed to the brawler on her right. “It’s his fault we showed up late. You were the last to wake up.”

“How is it my fault?” Bringer twitched, “You took forever to pack when the elf woke you up first!”

“Lu, it’s too early to argue over something so trivial.” Abysser sighed, “Can’t you take this argument later when we’re evacuated?”

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting!” Rune grinned, “Hope we weren’t being an inconvenience!”

“Is everyone all right?” Daybreaker rushed over to inspect the burns on Nova’s arm. “You should get that checked! You’re losing blood!”

“I’ll heal him,” Bluhen said with an easy smile.

“The dimension will collapse soon,” Herrscher started.

“We are not leaving,” Daybreaker snapped.

Her pale face illuminated under the moon to show the shadow under her eyes. She glared at Herrscher as if challenging the abyssal being to ignore her. Herrscher had a cool expression and lowered his scythe. Nova mouthed a thanks for Herrscher to see. This Rena wasn’t Twilight, but her words still had bite if tempered enough.

In contrast to Herrscher, Bluhen was if someone took the abyssal dweller’s color scheme and saturated it by several shades. Bluhen’s face was framed by bright green eyes and gray feathered hair. Carrying a mischievous smile, there was no weight in his steps as he blasted away the remaining demons before hopping over to Empire with his hands behind his back.

Taking the former mercenary’s injured arm, Bluhen produced a water bottle to clean his wound. Angry red flashed across Nova’s skin. The familiar pain hissed through his pores as Bluhen applied pressure into his wound. Dense light sang through his skin and Nova felt a jolt of energy travel through his body. When he opened his eyes, the wound had closed and appeared to be a few days old. Bluhen didn’t break a sweat. Impressed by the healing magic, Nova commended the priest and thanked him with a curt nod.

“You’re lucky there’s a healer,” Bringer said.

Nova looked up from where he sat to see a set of narrowed eyes. The brawler crossed his arms with a haughty look on his face. This was Add? Lacking the black sclera, Bringer made himself appear bigger by standing with a straight back and had more color in his complexion than Paradox.

“You don’t need to make everything sound like a vague threat,” Empire facepalmed.

“No, he’s right.” Bluhen agreed. “They would have lost the fight because they were outnumbered and outpowered.”

Bringer gawked at the priest, surprised by Bluhen’s response but said nothing. He blinked a lot and coughed to cover his embarrassment. Placing a hand over his mouth, Nova could see Bluhen fighting back a smile.

“Of course, I’m right.” Bringer boasted.

“It’s good to see you had no trouble finding us,” Nova said. He hid his bemusement in the silent exchange between the two. “We’ll be leaving once my friend completes the preparations.”

Bluhen lifted Nova’s arm up, applying pressure again to the previously injured joints to check for broken bones he may have missed. Pleased with the results, he offered Nova an elixir often used for soldiers suffering heavy blood loss. Judging by the panicked look in Empire’s face and Daybreaker’s reaction, his injuries must have been concerning for the group to halt everything. Nova accepted the elixir, popped open the flask, and chugged it in one gulp. He focused on the bitter taste from the berries used to make it.

“He drank it all?” Rune’s jaw dropped.

Herrscher floated over to Nova, ignoring the stares from the strangers as he pulled out his scythe. People stepped back, raising their weapons before Nova shook his head and waved his Nasod arm.

“He’s going to open a rift for us,” Nova explained. “I’ll stay at the end to make sure everyone makes it to the other side. There isn’t much time before it closes, so we’ll have to be quick.”

Bluhen’s eyes fell over to Herrscher with interest. The priest had his hands clasped together as he carefully studied the celestial. It was a shame their stay was temporary. None of the differences will matter at the end of the day unless Metamorphy was willing to do more interdimensional traveling.

“Richtie told me about you,” Bluhen said without looking up. He saw Herrscher’s confusion and explained, “The one who tried to kill you.”

“Celestials don’t die,” Herrscher said. “I’m not as human as you.”

“Then why do you help them?” Bluhen asked.

“Elsword told me to.”

“I see.” Bluhen’s pleasant smile wavered, visibly disturbed by Herrscher’s indifference. More questions threatened to roll off his tongue, but instead turned to Nova, “Everything is healed. Don’t strain that arm for at least a few days.”

“Thank you,” Daybreaker said. “Will this world be destroyed?”

“I don’t know,” Nova admitted. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure everyone makes it out of this.”

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Daybreaker crossed her legs and ran a finger over her bow. The resemblance between her and Twilight was strong in the way she looked past Nova’s relaxed smile.

Swinging his scythe to the side, Herrscher dragged the sharp blade from across. Green light shone as he ripped into the hems of space to cut open a thin line. Pulling back, Herrscher forced a portal open to reveal a dark void looming back at the abyssal being. The opening was big enough for a person to walk through.

“The portal won’t remain open for long. ” Herrscher said. “Elsword, you should go first.”

“Go ahead,” Empire nodded to Rune. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Everyone gathered and filed into a line with Rune at the front. Winking to his teammates, Rune turned around to walk through the portal. In a flash, the redhead had disappeared before being followed by his sister and the rest behind them. Nova was left with Herrscher maintaining the portal. The celestial remained still.

“Do you think there really is a way to undo this mess?” Nova surveyed the damage caused by Paradox.

Herrscher replied, “That is not my concern.”

“I would be surprised if it was,” Nova chuckled. “We should join them before they worry about us.”

Herrscher nodded.

Walking past the lines that blurred between different dimensions, Nova’s vision went black. His surroundings vanished as he was joined by Herrscher beside him. They had to hope that their teammates were as lucky as them in escorting the other El Search Parties. It wouldn’t be long before they learned if their plan was a success.

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

Mad Paradox

Being the generous person he was, Paradox agreed to go with the edgy brat’s plan. What else was there to do with a dimension threatening to burst open from the insides? Not that it was his intention. If he wanted to wreck a dimension, there were more efficient (and better) ways to do it.

There was no benefit out of destroying the current one where Knight and his… friends resided in because they probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late. What was the fun in that? Watching Knight squirm from demons was enough entertainment for the time traveler, but alas, that came to an early end. He wasn’t going to pit himself against a mob of adventurers over one boy.

A loud crack snapped from behind Paradox. Gravity pulled him in and the man fell through the portal he had created, landing neatly on his twos and balancing on Dynamo to support his weight. The screams of full-grown men followed coming from Immortal, Crusader, and Dominator crashing at his feet.

“Your cannon is on my foot!” Immortal shouted.

“I’m sorry!” Crusader pulled the oversized weapon away from the researcher.

“Both of you are too heavy!” Dominator complained.

How could those three make so much noise when they were the only ones here? Paradox hopped off Dynamo to watch the three idiots fumble around. Crushed by Crusader and Immortal, Dominator came out at the bottom of the pile. He waved one arm to grab onto Crusader’s cannon and glare at the blond. The guardian of Hamel scratched the back of his neck with a feeble smile.

Immortal sat on top of the two with one leg over the other. He screamed when Dominator sat up and had Dynamo nudge the sword user away. Waving his arms around, Immortal hopped around before falling over Crusader. Both men howled in pain because one jabbed an armored elbow into the other’s stomach.

“If you’re done, would you like to stand up so I don’t look like a fool when the other brats are here?” Paradox drawled.

“Why couldn’t you just portal us then go back to rescue the others?” Crusader asked. Pulling one knee up, he got up on his feet with his Destroyer over one shoulder.

“I’m not doing more work than I need to,” Paradox scoffed.

A set of eyes landed on Paradox. Their gaze fixed onto the back of his head as he gingerly flicked a piece of dirt off his plugsuit. He knew whose eyes they were. Who else would it be? Paradox had lost track of the number of times this similar scenario had occurred, too many times for it to bother him. He was reluctant to admit that he missed the novelty of discovering alternate dimensions when the other El Search Parties marveled over their counterparts.

Grumbling to himself about being dogpiled by heavy people, Dominator was busy patting the dust off his clothes. He Dynamo was a set of magenta-colored cubes, blinking light as they floated beside the scientist. Looking at Dominator was blinding. Dressed in a white suit with lilac and gold accents, his appearance and behavior was exactly how Paradox remembered. How could someone wear so much white?

“Can I help you?” Paradox tried not to laugh when their eyes met.

The time traveler recognized the stare he was receiving from Dominator. It was the analytical gaze, fighting to make use of every bit of knowledge the researcher had about Nasods and time travel to understand Paradox’s existence. He knew a part of his shoulder chipped every few minutes or so. Not even the heaviest jacket could hide that because it also disappeared with the rest of his body if he wasn’t paying attention.

“Does it exhaust your energy to maintain two forms?” Dominator asked.

Of course Dominator would want to know. Paradox wasn’t fazed by the intrusive question, tucking his limbs inward and gloved hands over his knees while sitting on Dynamo. Crusader and Immortal exchanged questioning looks to each other, debating to themselves whether or not to join. The guardian of Hamel chose to sit on the ground while Immortal leaned back against one of his swords planted in the rough terrain. Dominator remained standing, ignoring Dynamo nudging the scientist to sit down.

“No,” Paradox laughed. This Dominator was faster about asking personal questions than the last one. “I simply choose to be one form more than the other.”

It was easier to conserve energy by investing in one form than the other. He often opted for the child form for its utility but preferred his adult form when given the chance.

“And this is all done with Nasods?” Dominator asked.

“This is beyond technology and science,” Paradox said. “Having second thoughts about time traveling, Domi?”

“Domi?” Crusader covered his mouth mid-yawn.

“No,” Dominator stiffened. Good, then Dominator must have done the calculations to realize that genuine time traveling to their past wasn’t possible. The scientist crossed his arms and looked over to Dynamo in deep thought. “That’s not my current goal.”

At least one of them was the sensible one with realistic goals.

“Why would you waste your time dealing with us?” Dominator asked.

“Would you prefer to stay and become an inverted donut?” Paradox drawled. “It’ll be over before you can even think about it, but fun to watch.”

“A donut?” Crusader squeaked.

“An inverted one,” Immortal said unhelpfully.

Paradox grinned.

Making the El Search Party squirm never became old, unless it was the transformation path. Then it became a hassle because none of them took Paradox seriously or laughed with him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes about his teammates, or whatever they were. Teammates was a loose interpretation of his relationship with the people he sometimes chose to involve himself with when wandering through time and space was getting dull.

Dominator was less affected by Paradox’s threat and rubbed his chin, likely musing over his words and rendering its meaning. The scientist was never one to take words at the surface level. None of the Adds did, but Dominator liked to tread over his thoughts and actions before settling on one.

“You’ve gone through many timelines to be familiar with what happens when you mess with time and space,” Dominator stated.

Perceptive as always, Paradox rested his head back. He couldn’t expect less from his counterpart’s intuitive eye.

“Then it shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re not the first Dominator I’ve met.” Paradox winked, “Did you say hi to Doom Doom for me?”

A small noise of discontent came from Dominator. ‘Cat’ came to mind when Dominator tucked his arms over his lap and mumbled something about a meathead. Dominator waved away Dynamo bouncing against the side of the scientist’s head.

“How did you know about that nickname?” Crusader asked.

“As I said, this is not the first time I’ve met you.” Paradox said.

Observant, but still reactive to the unknown. It was too easy to spook his alternate, Paradox giggled. He knew it was easy to scare Crusader too if he was in the mood to test how jittery the guardian of Hamel was. Better not push them to the edge so early when the rest of the party hasn’t arrived yet. They were waiting for six more before departing to the next world.

“How did you learn to control portals?” Crusader asked.

Paradox continued smiling, showing his sharp teeth for an answer. The question in itself didn’t bother him, but the number of times and how it was a different person from each dimension asking the question did. He lost track of how many times a person asked the big old question as if he was obligated to retell them his sob story. It reopened old wounds to form new ones on his visible failures to save Mother. They didn’t need to know about her or why he was partially stuck with the form of a child.

Immortal forced a laugh. The sword wielder raised one arm and smacked Crusader’s back with enough force to make the blond straighten his posture.

“No need to fuss about the details,” the sword wielder beamed. “You can forget about us once this is sorted out!”

“How can we forget about you and the other people we’ve met?” Crusader said, “Everyone is so different from their other selves, but it helps cover all our weaknesses in the things we usually can’t do. I know it’s best that we all return to where we came from, but I think it would help if we were to learn from each other before we leave.”

“That’s for the man to decide,” Immortal shrugged. “As you may know, we’re not meant to be together without threatening our worlds.”

“Are you talking about Paradox?” Crusader was confused.

His question was thankfully interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming. Good, no more questions from the brats! Crusader was almost as bad as Dominator about asking questions and Immortal was no help warding them off his back. Continuing to lean back in a pose he claimed was ‘cool’ and feigning an innocent smile made it clear that Immortal was enjoying seeing the time traveler gain the spotlight.

Immortal and Crusader rushed over to see a young woman at the bottom of a steep hill. She was lying on the floor with her legs comically sticking up in the air. Her white gown hung her body like tissue paper and her face was bruised by her poor landing.

“Are you okay?” Flame frantically went over to check on Apsara. There were five other strangers with the Flame Lord with different reactions to their fallen teammate.

“I warned her about the hill and she still fell,” Oz sighed.

“Is this the feeling humans call disappointed?” Esencia asked.

“That’s a strong word to use,” Crusader sweatdropped.

“Can you feel your fingers?” Anemos asked.

“I can feel them fine!” Apsara sat up and pouted. Her eyes lightened up when she saw Crusader, “Chung! Are these the people who will be helping us?”

“You mean Paradox and Immortal?” Crusader asked. “I think so. We can leave once everyone is here, right?”

This wasn’t a party of adventurers, it was a mob. There were still a lot of people even after splitting them into three groups. It wasn’t there was a fourth person who could consistently transport multiple people to another dimension.

“Thank you for helping us,” Rage said. He was a masculine man, whose armor barely covered his body and was recognized by the grotesque Nasod arm. The arm was a living organism that breathed in unison with its host.

“Sure,” Paradox said. His muscles tensed in response to the El Search Party’s gratitude and reliance on him.

“What took you so long?” Dominator asked.

“We got lost,” Oz said. “Even with Escencia, it isn’t an easy map to read when the landmass is shifting.”

“That’s because of all you extras,” Paradox snarked.

“Which will be fixed soon,” Immortal added while glaring at him.

“How can you say that with so much confidence?” Anemos asked. “Will this plan restore what has been lost?”

“There’s no need to fight,” Apsara protested. “They’re offering to help us. Isn’t that enough? I’m sure more will be explained once we’re in a safer place.”

“Since we are the cause of the world becoming unstable, removing ourselves would be the first step to repairing the damage.” Escencia said, “There’s no need in delaying our departure.”

“Then a neutral zone where all of us can exist is the best place to be?” Flame asks.

“Try not to throw us to the side or upside down this time,” Dominator waved his hand. “Some of us get motion sick.”

Paradox made a note to absolutely open a portal flipped upside down. His smile made Dominator turn paler than he already was. The scientist sweated when Paradox opened his mouth to show pointed teeth. Black saliva dripped from his mouth and cackled when Dominator screamed.

“Enough, already!” Immortal lost his patience and snapped, “Quit fooling around!”

Sticking out his tongue, Paradox manipulated Dynamo to give a few twirls before opening a series of portals. They merged into a bigger portal. Its outer edge was formed by time crystals channeled by El resonance. Pink sparks flew dangerously from them, but it wouldn’t be a problem as long as Paradox was still here to control it.

Turning to grin at the bewildered adventurers, Paradox laughed. No one could understand time and space travel, not even him. Maybe Immortal’s insane plan would work, but he wasn’t one to hold his breath. After all, repairing dimensions was a messy business even Paradox had little experience in. However, Paradox wasn’t going to be the one fixing the mess. That was someone else’s problem.

As each group member exited into the portal, Paradox closed his eyes. The sky was a ruinous red. Dust and ash from shaken earth were still coming down. It wouldn’t be long before this dimension would see its demise unless that someone could fix it. Well, that wasn’t his problem. The last to leave, Paradox leaped onto Dynamo and flew through the portal, following the screams made by the rest of the El Search Party.

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

Metamorphy

No amount of glitter and magic was going to resolve Metamorphy’s problem sitting opposite to each other and avoiding eye contact. Knight and Aether arrived at their meeting spot in a shouting match before Furious Blade had to separate them, still shouting to each other as Metamorphy begged them to calm down. Code: Ultimate’s glassy eyes reflected when the queen of destruction said the new members were not part of their original party.

No matter, that didn’t change the original plan in gathering everyone to fix Paradox’s latest fuck up. Or at the very least mitigate whatever damage was done to the current world to prevent its complete collapse. There was still time.

The tension in the air was palpable between Knight and Aether. Covered in a thin sheen of dried sweat, Knight had his hands curled into fists over his lap in a quiet fume. Aether was less secretive about it and had her arms crossed, turning her head away from the redhead with a small huff. Her counterpart was cruel in giving Knight the cold shoulders, but Metamorphy also didn’t know what could have caused Aether to give the redhead that type of treatment.

“Are there more coming?” Blade asked.

“We’re still waiting on five people,” Metamorphy said.

The magical girl checked the message sent by Ultimate and forwarded to dozens of other people. As expected from Seraph’s alternate, it was succinct with a set of precise directions and a map leading to the meeting location. They were to meet north of the camping site, still within the range of the canyons surrounding the Shadow Vein. She was expecting the El Search Party to arrive as a group, but Knight said something about Chevalier still packing for the trip. Metamorphy recently received two messages that Herrscher and Paradox had gathered their groups to leave. She didn’t expect her group to be the last one!

Man, this blows. Metamorphy blew a stray strand of hair hanging over her eyes. Watching herself pretend Knight wasn’t sitting across from her was painful. Placing one finger under her chin and tilting her head to the side in thought, Metamorphy frowned. It looked like it was time for her to interfere before one of them did something stupid out of spite.

“Hey, do you have any questions you want to ask before we leave?” Metamorphy asked in the most cheerful tone she could without twitching her eyelids. She leaned against Aether and forced a smile, “I’m sure you must have a lot of questions about where we’re going!”

“I would if someone would stop hesitating every time we’re trying to save ourselves.” Aether purposely gave a side-eye to Knight with venom in her voice.

“It’s not always about us,” Knight lost his temper. “We’re going to leave behind the people we said we were going to help!”

“You can’t help people if you’re dead,” Aether said.

“We’ll figure out how to save both of us without abandoning them,” he argued.

“Like you did when you committed suicide by sacrificing yourself to the El?” She snarked.

“Is this what it’s about?” Knight growled, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! It was either me or Elesis. I only wanted to save her and everyone else!”

“That’s so heroic of you,” Metamorphy feigned a swoon and batted her eyelashes. She tried not to laugh at Knight’s blank look and stiffened posture. The boy was clearly unused to that sort of response. “Giving yourself away because you see little value in yourself over that of something bigger than you.”

Metamorphy beamed when she felt two pairs of eyes glaring at her and did a little curtsy with her skirt. She knew she had hit a sore spot because Knight clawed his hands over his armor with extra fervor and gritted his teeth. The magical girl could see the wheels turning of Knight fighting back the temptation to snap at a stranger that shared his teammate’s face.

“Is that what you think he did?” Aether was the first to speak. Good, her attention was directed to someone else than the person she was taking her anger out on for the last twenty minutes. She was looking at Metamorphy as if she was seeing a ghost.

“Did I get the details right?” Metamorphy asked with an innocent smile. She switched to a darker expression and lowered her intonation into a more sober one, “All Elswords share the same brain cell. Every one of them will do some variation of the same event. Yours isn’t any different than ours.”

“What did your Elsword do?” The Eve called Ultimate asked. Her cold exterior was veiled by concern and curiosity, traits Metamorphy hasn’t seen on Seraph in years. It was saddening to see that most Eves retained their emotions except for the one Metamorphy grew up with.

“Gave himself away to the El to save his sister,” Metamorphy said. “His sister was saved, but he wasn’t. We were lucky to find his body and pull him back before the El permanently consumed him. The El extended his powers over the Dark El and made him stronger. ”

“But his sister isn’t here?” Blade noted the use of past tense.

“No one has seen her in weeks,” Metamorphy showed her discomfort. Immortal put on a happy face, but she knew it was all a farce. Pulling the team together was his last attempt to find a purpose in retrieving the El as a guise to relocate Bloody Queen. “We came here looking for Paradox because Immortal wanted everyone together to fight against the new enemy. It didn’t occur to us that there would be more of you.”

Knight was silent. All of his anger disappeared in place with a solemn smile. He was sympathizing with Immortal, nodding in understanding despite little else being said about the sword user. Metamorphy didn’t have to say more.

No matter the size of the enemy or new cause, all Elswords saw the importance of gathering as many allies as possible. It made hiding from enemies difficult because of the sheer size of their group, but it gave them an advantage in number. However, with Queen missing in addition to Paradox and the demons appearing sporadically, their current team was standing at eight permanent team members. She knew it broke Immortal’s heart to see it remain relatively small for an adventurer party in comparison to the other paths.

“No one would be angry at you for leaving,” Metamorphy looked at Knight with a kind expression. “You did what you could to help them. They would have liked you to take care of yourself too.”

“That’s what Elesis told me too,” Knight said. “I feel like leaving is letting them know I failed.”

“Failing in what?” Ultimate asked.

“Helping them from the source of their home being destroyed,” Knight explained. “Someone out there is going to use the Dark El for selfish reasons.”

“As to be expected,” Blade said. “When something of great power exists, there will always be people seeking for it as they did with the El. I haven’t met these people you speak of, but they have made it to this point on their own before you step foot here. Like you and your friends, they will find a way to make it through today.”

“Are you saying there might be another way to save the El other than the Dark El?” Knight said.

“I don’t know,” Blade admitted. Dressed in white, his Nasod arm was structured with balance and weight in mind. His face wasn’t framed in as many scars as Nova’s. “I do believe that you don’t need to sacrifice a part of yourself to help others. No war was won by a single person. It takes a group of dedicated people to make the changes that matter the most to people.”

“Do you value yourself so lowly?” Aether asked. “Is it because of something we did or say to you? I just wanted you to know that you’re so important to the team. Without you, I don’t think we would have gotten to Velder, let alone to the Demon Realm. Our team would have fallen apart before that.”

“I know,” Knight said. “I didn’t say anything before, but I’m scared. What if all of this was for nothing? We help the demons, but then there’s no Dark El. Or the Henir cultists found it first. So many things can go wrong…”

Aether let out a soft laugh. Quiet and melodic, it bounced off the canyon walls surrounding the outside of Shadow Vein. Knight looked up from his lap, confused by her reaction and looking over to Metamorphy for a hint. The magical girl shrugged.

“We place so much weight on you,” Aether said with a sad smile. “You didn’t have to take the lead, but you always did. With enthusiasm, but then that went away because of all the danger we were always in.”

“Raven or Elesis should have been the leader,” Knight said. “They have more experience than me. What would a kid like me know?”

“At eighteen years old, you are no longer a child.” Ultimate said, “but I agree that your current arrangement is not productive for the party. It would be more effective and efficient if you were to make more decisions as a group rather than rely on one person.”

“Is that something your team does?” Knight asks. “Rune told me about it and I thought it was strange how different even our teams operate.”

Is that how it worked for these two parties? Metamorphy was interested in hearing more. Every El Search Party had a different setup. Some relied on a single person as their leader, often Elsword unless he was killed or the responsibility was handed over to another person, usually Raven or Elesis. She once met a party led by Ciel. It was… strange and more often involved searching for ingredients for new recipes. Other parties made decisions as a group or focused on a few key members to make important decisions.

“You don’t have to choose the path others did before you,” Blade said. “I think you of all people know that the most. Choose what works for you so you don’t overwork yourself.”

“I want to help everyone,” Knight said. “But that isn’t possible, is it?”

“We’ll help you,” Aether went over to sit next to Knight, leaning against the knight with a bright smile. “Once we’re back together with the others, we can start making decisions as a team.”

“Thanks, Aisha.” Knight smiled back, “You’re not so bad when you’re nice.”

Aether twitched and threw her staff at the red-haired knight. Folding her arms across her chest, the mage spun around and scowled. So much for a short moment of peace, Metamorphy laughed.

“Since when wasn’t I nice?” Aether asked.

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held up both hands, “I didn’t mean it like that! I mean you’re cool, uh, thoughtful!”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aether picked up her staff and pouted.

“You’re expecting a lot of him to take a hint,” Metamorphy winked at her counterpart. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“Know what?” Knight asked.

“Thought so,” Metamorphy smirked. She cupped Knight’s face in between her gloved hands and gushed, “You’re so cute not knowing anything.”

“Hey!” Aether protested.

Knight’s face turned into the same color as his hair.

Metamorphy dropped her hands and jokingly stuck out her tongue to her counterpart. She could see why Paradox was inclined to stay with the two groups. They were so much fun to talk to! She couldn’t wait to tell her teammates about the new people she had met.

“They’re here,” Ultimate said. Pointing through her line of vision were five silhouettes framed by dark shadows cast by the sun against the granite floor.

A woman in a black cocktail dress walked beside a man wearing white armor and a blue scarf. Devi was chuckling at something said by Phantom, who was pointing to Metamorphy and making gestures to himself. The cyan colored eyes and hair gave away Richter’s identity in how he kept looking back at the two demons walking behind him.

Hulling heavy bags were Chevalier and Ishtar. Their eyes shone like stars, lost in their own separate conversation. Metamorphy overheard mentions of food and exotic spices from a faraway land. It was strange to see the demons be talkative over the dreaded silence she more frequently witnessed between Anular and Iblis.

“There you are!” Metamorphy ran up to them with open arms, “Now we’re ready to take off!”

“Where are we going?” Richter asked.

“Will there be demons?” Devi smirked.

“No demons,” Metamorphy shook her head. “I think you’ve all been to this place. Henir's Time and Space?”

“I see.” Phantom said, “It’s a neutral space because Glave made it so that there can be multiple copies of the same person.”

“You think Glave can fix this?” Chevalier asked.

“He certainly has the abilities to suggest he can,” Ishtar remarked.

“After telling us about the corrupted monsters, Glave must have seen some kind of use in us,” Blade said. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask him for help.”

“Exactly!” Metamophy said, “Besides, I think there’s a way to reset this dimension so that any of the damage done right now will never happen.”

“How?” Aether asked.

Metamorphy looked at the nine people entrusted in her hands, knowing fully well that Immortal trusted her in taking them to safety. It was a lot to ask, but she wasn’t ready to give up on these people just yet. Despite the number of dimensions she had visited, she never stayed long enough to see the fates of their denizens. She wanted to see the future of the lively people she had barely talked to.

“Why, I’m glad you asked!” Metamorphy heard herself speak. She clasped her hands together with a cheerful smile, “It means we’re going to let this dimension collapse on itself!”

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

Author Notes: When I first drafted the outline for this fic, I imagined it to end by chapter 8. I started this fanfic out of the wish to see all the paths interact in some shape or form. It means a lot to me to see that many people want the same. Everyone’s feedback was encouraging and it helped me keep going. I’m not sure when the next update will occur because of work, but I plan on continuing with the story until the very end. Sorry for the long chapter.

#elsword #eltag #elsword fanfiction #doppelganger #mywriting #my writing #Elboy #Rena (Elsword)#Aisha (Elsword)#Raven (Elsword)#Eve (Elsword)#Chung (Elsword)#Ara (Elsword)#Elesis (Elsword)#Add (Elsword)#Lu (Elsword)#Ciel (Elsword)#Ain (Elsword)

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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STARTUPS AND COMPANY

A job means doing something people want. When a new medium arises that's powerful enough to enforce taboos, but weak enough to need them. If a writer rewrites an essay, people who read the old version are unlikely to complain that their thoughts have been broken by some newly introduced incompatibility. We have such labels today, of course. Are patents evil? Demand transparency. We don't need to know this stuff to program in. There are also two practical problems to consider: jobs, and graduate school. The word startup dates from the 1960s, but what they want. Labels like that are probably the biggest external clue. In practice, to get good design if the intended users and figuring out what they need. Working on hard problems.

Instead of accumulating money slowly by being paid a regular wage for fifty years. It takes a while to be optimistic after events like that. It's easy to measure how much revenue they generate, and they're usually paid a percentage of the company? Startups usually win by making something so great that it's growing at 5% a week. Unfortunately there are a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a local celebrity. Mapmakers deliberately put slight mistakes in their maps so they can sue competitors. Applying for a patent is a negotiation. And if you can manage it, is to have the lowest income taxes, because to take advantage of dramatic decreases in cost is to increase volume. But as long as your critical spirit doesn't outweigh your hope, you'll be able to think what you want. If you had a magic machine that could on command make you a car or cook you dinner and so on.

European attitudes weren't affected by the disasters of the twentieth century; now the trend seems to be vanishingly rare in the arts could tell you that the right way to lift heavy things is to let people do the best work they can, and then try to pry apart the cracks and see what's inside their heads. Applying for a patent is a negotiation. I wish someone would get this point across to the present administration. The really painful thing to recall is not just something happening now in Silicon Valley. That's the good part. Few investors understand the cost that raising money from them imposes on startups. But my guess is that we see oscillations in people's idea of the corporate ladder was still very much alive. The millennia-long run of bigger-is-better left us with a lot of latent respect among the very best hackers—the medium of exchange, called the dollar, that doesn't physically exist. Certainly some rejected Google. A good programming language.

Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, and Michael Dell can't be a company of one person. What I'm going to take a shot at describing where these trends are leading. Maybe successful people in other industries are; I don't know enough to say whether there is a peloton of younger startups behind them. I've had several emails from computer science undergrads asking what to do has to rest with one person. Best of all, for the same reason I did look under rocks as a kid: plain curiosity. I've found that it matters a lot how code lines up on the bottom. This is a dumb plan. What does make a language that makes type declarations mandatory could be convenient to program in Lisp, but it has to be the mistaken one. Two things keep the speed of the boat. And during the Renaissance, journeymen from northern Europe were often employed to do the other. Founders are your customers, and the PR campaign surrounding the launch has the side effect of specialization.

The EU was designed partly to simulate a single, definite occupation—which is not far from the idea that each person has a natural station in life. If there are any laws regulating businesses, you can also get into Foobar State. Eventually, though, you're still designing for humans. All you need to attract. Every era has its heresies, and if not, they say they want the meretricious feature du jour, but what happens in one is very similar to the venture-backed trading voyages of the Middle Ages. If you said them all you'd have no time left for your real work. Startups yield faster growth at greater risk than established companies. Why aren't all police interrogations videotaped? And there is a safe option, that's the worst thing you can say about it. They're determined by VCs starting from the amount the company needed to raise and let the percentage acquired vary with the market, instead of the other methods are now illegal but that it's obvious. Darwin himself was careful to tiptoe around the implications of his theory. Odds are this project won't be a class assignment.

We did. But if capital gains rates vary, you move assets, not yourself, so changes are reflected at market speeds. Boston's case illustrates the difficulty you'd have establishing a new startup hub this late in the game. They'd be far more useful when combined with some time living in a country with a strong middle class—countries where a private citizen could make a fortune without having it confiscated. What does he think that would shock her? It has a long way to run. Kids are less perceptive. I can't think of a financial advisor who put all his client's assets into one volatile stock? For centuries the Japanese have made finer things than we have in the West. If you want a potato or a pencil or a place to live, you have to say everything you think, it may be that it gives you. It's tricky to keep the old model, like runtime typing and garbage collection. Wow.

Running upstairs is hard for us would be impossible for our competitors. If you're saying something that Richard Stallman and Bill Gates would both agree with, you must be contributing at least x dollars a year. Actors and directors are fired at the end that the lines don't meet. I want to spend money on stuff. Eventually something would come up that required me to use it, and even though I've studied the subject for years, it would obviously be a good idea in the first few minutes whether you seem like you'll be one of the biggest startups almost didn't happen that there must be a hacker's language, like the US, and good high schools and bad universities, like the pyramids. And they are also different lengths, meaning that the arguments won't line up when they're called, as car and cdr often are, in successive lines. In 1960, John McCarthy published a remarkable paper in which he did for programming something like what Euclid did for geometry. If it were simply a matter of degree. This connection adds more brittleness than strength, however: make the best surgeons operate with their left hands, force popular actors to overeat, and so on. Whatever the disadvantages of working by yourself, the advantage is that the inhabitants still speak many different languages.

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vulpinmusings · 4 years ago

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Ski’tar and Friends part 20: Show Stoppers of Songbird

This week, Ski’tar, Vemir, and 6 attend the biggest concert event of the year.

Part one Previously Archive

Following our mission to Apostae, we took a couple of days to rest and restock. Vemir decided to get a prosthetic arm to replace the one he’d been missing since before we first met. As he was showing it off to us, we received a rare surprise: actual physical mail. There was an envelope of each of us, and inside were invitations to join Zigvigix in attending a Strawberry Machine-cake concert, one of the biggest entertainment events of the Pact-year. Since it would be a nice change of pace, and because Vemir is a massive closeted fan of the band (he was trying too hard not to look interested through the whole event), we decided to accept the offer.

Our hopes for a relaxing day of no trouble were dashed the morning of the concert, when Historia-7 commed us for a last-minute mission. By happenstance, Historia had tracked one of the mystery people hiding behind Arch-energy Consortium to a private villa attached to Songbird Station, the very venue where SMC was performing. Since Vemir, 6, and I were going to be in the area anyway, Hisroria wanted us to hunt down the man and grill him for everything he knows, and to do so without letting Ziggy know about it. It seems our Shirren friend’s depression over the Scored Stars incident has interacted poorly with some augments he has and put him at a high risk for a stroke if he were to get too stressed by, say, his favorite band’s concert being ruined by shenanigans.

I was very close to refusing to work on a “vacation,” but my friends just agreed to the task and I wasn’t about to leave them hanging.

Songbird Station is built out of an asteroid and probably had a past life as some sort of temple, given the slap-dash way the technology was set up behind the scenes. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As our shuttle was making its final approach, Ziggy showed us a hologram of the friends he’d lost at Scored Stars and revealed his desire to ask Strawberry Machine-cake to put on a public tribute of sorts for them after the show.

The lobby was packed with beings of all descriptions, creating a living sea of pink and red, loud music, and spontaneous dance parties. After making sure Ziggy was properly distracted by the fan activities, 6, Vemir, and I held a quick conference to decide how to go about locating our target, Lansio. I hacked a computer to see if he was on some sort of guest list, but came up empty, so we tried to find someone official-looking to ask. We chose a harried-looking security guard who was posted by the door to the maintenance and station power area, but as we tried to make our way over we got caught up in a dance mob. Well, 6 and I got caught in it. In the name of maintaining cover, we bowed to the mob’s pressure and danced for a bit. Well, 6 danced and won himself a t-shirt. I tripped over myself.

You’d think an Ysoki would be more naturally agile than an android…

There was another momentary detour as I bumped into a tele-view done with a misaligned balance gyro and felt compelled to fix it for the sake of the Ysoki using it to attend the concert remotely. He transferred me some credits for my trouble, so that was a nice bonus.

We reached the security guard as he was arguing with a couple of lashunta about needing to apply pacification mods to their weapons. When the lashunta left, Vemir went up and offered up his sniper rifle for pacification, and 6 and I followed suit with Sixer’s sword and my laspistol. Having thus charmed our way into the guard’s good graces, we asked him if he knew Lansio. He told us Lansio had a villa in the residential section, but didn’t know if he was home.

Right then, the power went out for a couple seconds. When asked, the guard told us that had been happening intermittently in the last few hours and no technicians had gone to check on it yet. Concerned about Ziggy’s health and remembering a similar problem from Elytrio, I convinced the guard to let us into the maintenance area to check the station’s power generator.

After heading through a hallway thick with wires that had been strung onto the walls and ceiling, we entered the reactor room to find three strange, pale figures that were glowing and seemed to have only a passing familiarity with the concept of materiality. For lack of a better identifier, I termed them “Gremlins” for their child-like but innately destructive nature. They were clustered around the reactor, chattering among themselves, until 6 got their attention. They spoke of the reactor as if it were an egg about to hatch, and then one of them came up and poked me. Its finger phased into my chest and I felt something in me change in a most unpleasant way.

I flipped out and shot the gremlin. While my laspistol had been pacified, it still somehow set the thing on fire. It laughed as if being tickled, and its two buddies started to advance on Sixer and Vemir, curious what would happen if they got touched.

We weren’t going to have any of that, of course, but defending ourselves proved difficult because the gremlins kept phasing through things and easily reforming from being sliced or shot through. Toosie managed to hold the first Gremlin’s attention away from me and whatever had changed in me decided to pop out and off me, but Vemir got mutated twice – first with some kind of external and very stinky gland and later with a second set of eyes – and Sixer’s hand was changed into a bio-mechanical claw. The scuffle only ended when one of the Gremlins got the idea of jumping into the reactor and 6 seized the controls to keep the power stable. That gremlin wound up evaporating, and the other two quickly surrendered when I told Toosie to try dragging one of them to the reactor.

The gremlins promised to stop playing around, but said the reactor had already been messed with by someone else and was building up to something. I took over the controls from 6 and took a look at the code. I found a foreign algorithm, but I couldn’t make much sense of it because it involved a lot of magic. What I did manage to decipher revealed a process to vent the atmosphere out of the villa owned by Lansio.

Vemir cut the stinky gland off of himself, but couldn’t do anything about his new eyes despite them being so light-sensitive that he was effectively blind. We guided him back out to the lobby and over to the gift-shop area to buy a bandanna to cover the eyes. We then forded the sea of fans to reach the entrance to the private villa section. Vemir had to shove off an over-enthusiastic collector of SMC merch and I was waylaid by another dance mob and, rather make a further fool of myself, I had Toosie bull through the crowd so I could continue walking. Somebody found that to be a crime worthy of throwing a full can of soda at my head, but I shrugged it off. Vemir then wound up playing taxi for three little snake-like girls for a bit and earned a crystal headdress for his trouble.

The door to the villa area was only blocked by a simple rope and nobody that we passed inside gave us more than a brief glance, so we had no trouble getting to Lansio’s address. Nobody answered my polite knock, but Vemir heard frantic movement inside, so we invited ourselves in.

Lansio was working hurriedly at a laptop, so 6 rushed up and threw him against the wall. I moved up in the android’s wake and checked the computer, quickly determining that it had been rigged to explode. As Toosie and Vemir came in and took up positions, an attack drone like the ones we’d fought and obtained from the bad weapons deal emerged from a hidden spot in the wall.

Lansio drew a cane-sword and tried to attack me, but I blocked the blow with my prosthetic arm and decided to take the laptop to a less busy part of the villa to disarm it. Toosie and 6 busied themselves trying to subdue Lansio and get the wrist-watch I would need to finish my work, while Vemir tore the attack drone apart with his retractable wrist-spike. In short order, Toosie got the watch for me, the drone was disabled, and 6 had thrown Lansio out the back door. I disarmed the laptop’s explosive countermeasures, but the data it held had already been wiped.

6 started to drag Lansio back inside for questioning, until I reminded him that the place might still lose atmosphere at any moment. Vemir handled most of the interrogation. Lansio didn’t know anything about the malicious code and the only name he had for his boss was “the Benefactor,” but it was at least something.

We debated a bit about what to do with Lansio, weighing the risks of leaving him to alert his compatriots to what had occurred against the difficulty of getting him back to the Society without tipping Ziggy off to our mission. Finally, we decided to kick the problem upstairs into Historia’s lap. After we filled her in, she said she had some strings she could pull to have station security handle Lansio for us. She also told us that the malcious magic-code had a degree of artificial intelligence and was trying to escape into the info-sphere. It was currently contained inside the holographic projectors being used for Strawberry Machine-cake’s show, and so long as it was there we would be able to “kill” it by destroying the hologram that it would inhabit.

We rushed back to the theater area and used out Starfinder credentials to get backstage in the hopes of being able to deal with the evil hologram before the show began. Unfortunately, according the band manager, there simply wasn’t time for that and the show simply could not be delayed. Our only option was to battle the hologram on-stage as a pre-show performance, with SMC providing a musical back-drop.

It was the coliseum of Brilliance Station all over again, but there was no other option, so I accepted the holo-costume projectors given to me and walked out with Vemir and 6 to hopefully not make a complete fool of myself.

The malicious code decided to take the form of a giant pink robot armed with a plasma sword and large rifle. When the music started up, the thing struck a pose before engaging us, which was a nice touch.

I opened with a couple of grenades that bounced off and exploded harmlessly, while 6 landed a good shot with his frostbite rifle and Vemir sniped it in the head. The hologram-bot reeled to the beat before momentarily shifting into a tank-like form and unleashing a shockwave of electricity that knocked Toosie over.

As my drone picked itself, up, Vemir and I moved to flank the bot while 6 hacked at it with his sword and got smacked by the large plasma sword in response. Toosie and 6 then hacked at the bot’s feet until it fell to its knees, and Vemir blasted it with his arc pistol, to great effect.

In a desperate position, the hologram raised its rifle and fired in an arc that hit everyone but me, and the Vemir took it out with another arc pistol shot to the head. The hologram exploded in a shower of sparks and a wave of electricity, and the lights went down as the music stopped.

After a moment to raise the audience’s tension, the lights came back up to reveal a large holographic image of Zigvigix’s lost friends, and Strawberry Machine-cake’s lead, Captain Carmine, came out to deliver a moving tribute to those Starfinders lost to Scored Stars. At this point, I figured that Historia had pulled a few more strings than she’d implied to us, for the sake of Ziggy.

Vemir, 6, and I were given an unprompted moment to say something, which we muddled through, and then we quickly got off the stage so the actual show could go on.

We made our way into the audience to join Zigvigix, gave him some vague explanations, and finally got to enjoy the show.

Afterward, the band gave us some of their merchandise along with some actually useful gifts. We had to fend off some reporters looking for details of what had happened before we could get onto out shuttle and return to Absalom Station.

I complained a lot throughout this adventure, but looking back on it now, it wasn’t really that much of a headache. At least, after putting aside the mutations caused by those gremlins.

#ski'tar #Starfinder #Vulpin plays

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loopy777 · 5 years ago

Note

You've got me curious now as to what anime youve seen, enjoyed and why.

Oof, I don’t track that type of thing. I’ve been asked about anime I like previously, and I feel like I always forget something. I suppose I should start a MyAnimeList one of these days, just for reference.

So let’s list everything I can remember, as well as a pithy reaction.

Baccano!This one is just so much fun. It’s violent and crass in a classy way, it’s funny in a weird way, and it’s a great example of a non-linear narrative. I love it.

Code Geass (Season 1)Ugh, I only watched this one because people solicited my opinion on it. Well, my opinion is that it’s not as smart as it wants to be, there’s too much contrived melodrama (and considering the wild premise, that’s saying something), and Kallen would be a wonderful and interesting character if she wasn’t always being demeaned for fan-service. I quit when the first season finale kicked off, because I felt things were just getting too contrived. I hear it really fell apart in the second season.

Cowboy BebopI found this a bit pretentious. It had good episodes and bad episodes. The production quality is good. But I'm not sure why it's legendary. Still, I liked its sense of humor, and enjoyed it when it wasn’t trying to be super serious. My favorite character is Ed.

Demon SlayerI'm mainly watching this because my brother wanted to give it a try on Toonami, but I kind of checked out when it unceremoniously removed everything difficult about the sister being a demon and made her into an order-following sidekick that fits in a suitcase. Now the latest episode introduced a loud annoying side character, so we may quit. I have no idea why this one is so popular.

Fullmetal AlchemistCovered

Gatchaman CrowdsI was asked to watch this one, as well, but it went a lot better than Code Geass. It’s a bit weird, and I think it's naively optimistic about the internet in many ways, but I still found it's exploration of Internet-age superheroes to be interesting, and it's the best, most mature take on the Power Rangers-style ‘sentai’ genre that I've seen. I don't know how well it matches up with its Gatchaman legacy, but as its own thing, it's pretty good.

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex (including 2nd Gig)This is another legendary one that I think is good but a bit over-rated. It's a good piece of modern Cyberpunk, but it's very talky, and very jargon-filled. I'm almost convinced that the viewer is not meant to follow half of the conversations, that they're just part of the ambiance. I tended to like the stand-alone episodes better than the storyline episodes. Still, it’s a very smart series, and probably the best thing in the franchise, from what I’ve heard.

Log Horizon (first season only)I’ll tell you what- I think it’s possible to make a good anime with the premise of people from the modern, real world entering a fantasy realm (either another dimension or a VR video game). Log Horizon did not end up being that ideal. The main character is a Gary Stu, his romances with girls who are either ten years old or just look like they’re ten years old are creepy, and it got boring seeing the protagonists’ plans always succeed without much of a hitch.

Lupin III (series 4 and 5)I like this franchise when it's being clever, when it's springing a twist while playing fair. Sometimes, though, it doesn't play fair with its twists, leaving me underwhelmed. And while the regular cast is amusing, they're fairly shallow characters; this isn't always a bad thing, as that allows them to slot into all kinds of genre fare, but does limit the storytelling ambitions. It’s fine.

Macross franchiseSuper Dimensional Fortress MacrossI still like the original, despite how dated it is. It's probably the best possible implementation of 'soap opera in space.'

Macross PlusI'm not sure why this one is so revered. I feel like it doesn't play fair with its mystery, despite being such a short story, and whole thing with the killer popstar AI just left me cold.

Macross 7I like the music, but the story really drags for the first half with a formula that’s repeated far too long, and then falls apart in the end. The love triangle isn’t resolved, and in fact I’m of the opinion that two of the participants didn’t even know they were in competition. The bad guys are allowed to sail off into the sunset, forgiven, despite still inhabiting the bodies of kidnapped humans. But this isn't a series you watch for the story; this is a series you watch because you like the idea of a rockstar flying into space in a transforming mecha, controlled by an electric guitar, to sing at alien invaders. Personally, I think the idea is dumb. Plus, this ruins the premise of the original series by adding in what is effectively magic.

Macross ZeroThis is pretty good and has the best dogfights in the series, but it has one of those weird arty endings that anime sometimes likes to do where no one can tell what actually happened and we need to find translated interviews with the creative team to get it explained.

Macross FrontierBy this point, I was wondering why everyone is so eager for the Macross franchise to get American distribution. It’s better than Macross 7, but feels like a first draft of the intended story, and the creative team lost track of their own subplots. The two AU movies do a more satisfying take on the same basic story, but sometimes they come across like an abridged recap of the series, so you really need to watch everything to get a satisfying experience. That said, the final experience was indeed fairly satisfying, making this the second best thing in the franchise for me. Still, I wouldn’t say it lives up to the original in any way.

Macross DeltaBoy, this one was dumb. Everything wrong with Frontier is worse here, with none of the good stuff.

The Melancholy of Haruhi SuzumiyaI still want an ending for this, despite nothing worthwhile coming from it since 2011. It wouldn't even be hard to pick it up again; set it in modern times, and explain the fact that everyone has smartphones now to be a result of some weird off-screen Haruhi antics.

Mobile Suit Gundam franchiseMobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded OrphansI've only ever experienced the Gundam franchise because my brother wants to get into it and he keeps trying to find a vector. This was my first experience with it, and I found it very 'teenage boy,' in both tone and story. I was underwhelmed.

Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn RE:0096Another case where the storytellers reached the end only to have forgotten the rest of the story. Why does that happen so often in anime? And I think it assumes the viewer is familiar with the whole rest of the franchise, because there was a lot that just went straight over my head but didn't seem like it was supposed to. Nice animation and art style, though.

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin - Advent of the Red CometEverything I said about Unicorn, only more.

My Hero AcademiaCovered

NichijouThis thing is still hilarious, even after a rewatch. Stick with the sub, as the new dub's voice-acting doesn't have the same range and power of the original, losing a lot of the humor.

Outlaw Star I'm struggling to remember a lot of this one. it’s another I watched because my brother was interested in it. I do recall that it was a fairly standard Space Western that ends in a way that's more like serious science fiction, and that for some reason a Japanese swordswoman in classic clothing was part of the cast. Now I wonder if that was an homage to Lupin III. Or maybe Japan just really loves throwing classic samurai into everything, regardless of setting or genre.

Pokemon (part of first series)I was in high school when this franchise first came to America, and for some reason all the geeks in my high school thought it was the greatest thing. The games were good, yeah, but the anime? I don't think it's bad for a kiddie cartoon, but it obviously has no greater ambitions than pleasantly occupying the kids for 22 minutes. Personally, what I really want is a series about Team Rocket done in the style of Cowboy Bebop.

Princess TutuCo-owner of the Best Magical Girl designation. I forget who asked me to watch this, but I owe them.

Puella Magi Madoka MagicaCo-owner of the Best Magical Girl designation. I still haven't bothered with anything but the original series, and I continue to be happy with that choice.

Samurai ChamplooI liked this better than Cowboy Bebop, but only because its ambitions were lower. It leaned more into its genre, had fun with its style more even when being serious, and as a result became more enjoyable. I overall liked going on a journey with these rascals, but I think it ended at a good point. I don’t need more.

Spice & Wolf (first season)I watched this on someone's suggestion, and found it a little underwhelming. What I really appreciated were the two main characters, especially that they seem to be into each other, romantically and sexually, and aren't freaked out by it while at the same time not being in a hurry to become a couple. It was just a kind of, "Yeah, this could really be something if we ever find the time." It was so amazingly mature and real. Too bad the main Economics plotlines just wound up being tepid.

Tekkaman BladeMy thoughts haven't changed on this.

Tiger & BunnyI'm still fond of this one, and I'm actually kind of curious to revisit it in light of My Hero Academia.

Transformers ‘Unicron Trilogy’These three cartoons are true anime, produced by and for Japan. (The other cartoons in the franchise were written, and sometimes animated, in the west.) It's garbage that assumes its child audience are morons, and on top of that the first two series wound up with laughably bad dubs. How this trilogy revitalized the franchise, I have no idea, and thankfully I'll never have to worry about it.

Volton (original)Either this or Robotech/Macross was my first anime; I was too young to say which I discovered first. I'll admit that the original Voltron isn't good, despite the toy being neat, but I have a soft spot for it. I tried the Netflix reboot, watching the first three episodes, and found it to be vacuous junk. Maybe some day a version of this will come along that will do justice to the toy.

And I think that’s it. If I remember anything I left off, I’ll reblog with the addition.

#Anonymous

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iwritefanficsometimes · 6 years ago

Text

I Told You We Were Waiting For Someone

So I’m trying to decide if this is going to fit into a wider universe of my in progress afterlife fic, or if it’s just a one-shot with a similar premise. I could 100% fit it in, and I think I might want to? But I’m still thinking about it

This is a really roundabout fic, and has way too much dialogue in some places, but that’s just how I write now, apparently? I did my best. I know that the style changes in a few places, and that’s not in purpose, but it’s not too jarring (I hope) so just give it a chance?

Endgame: DrPepperony, contains endgame spoilers, duh. AO3 link to come.

———————

Stephen going to Pepper and apologizing for the timeline.

Pepper forgiving Stephen and inviting him to have some coffee. “Or tea? Yeah, you seem like a tea guy.”

Morgan wants to know why his cape is like Thor’s.

Stephen tells her it’s because Thor copied him.

Morgan accepts this without question and then calls her uncle Bruce to tell him Thor is a copy-cat.

Bruce doesn’t tell Thor.

Pepper gives Stephen a standing invitation to stop by, because she’s intimately familiar with how quickly Tony can get under people’s skin and burrow into their hearts.

She doesn’t know the half of it.

Stephen stops by once a month or so, and Morgan gets used to the sight of him.

So does Pepper.

She likes it when Stephen comes by and they have a chance to talk.

So does Stephen.

“Doctor Strange, why can’t you use your magic to bring back my dad?”

The question isn’t accusing, she seems to understand that the answer must be a negative, she just wants to know why.

“Because bringing back people from the dead is a very dangerous kind of magic, and if I did it, he might not come back the same Dad you knew.”

She nods, considering this.

“So you can, but he’d just be bad.”

“Yes.”

She nods again and hugs him around the legs.

“If he wouldn’t be bad, would you do it?”

He answers too quickly.

“Yes.”

Morgan stays clinging to him for a minute before she’s satisfied with the answer and Stephen.

“Mom says you can stay for dinner. I helped mix the salad.”

Stephen smiles.

🖥

It’s not until Morgan is nearly 15 that they find the AI.

Turning him on is an accident. If they’d known they would’ve left it alone. Great timing for Tony to forget to label an AI

AI Tony doesn’t remember Morgan, or marriage, or a farm. He’s stuck so far in the past he’s almost unrecognizable.

Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy spend a lot of time talking to this version of Tony, Pre-Ultron, and they find that the more they tell him about the present the less and less he responds.

Eventually Rhodey makes the executive decision to get Friday involved.

She is understandably unsure of her own abilities, but she does her best to bring AI Tony around.

After three weeks of near constant interface, Friday and Tony emerge in their holograms, and Tony still looks down, as much as any AI can be down, but he wants to interact with Morgan.

There’s not much footage of Tony interacting with Morgan, just lots of pictures. Pepper is the one who tells him about his relationship with Morgan, so he can talk to her.

They talk for an hour, and Morgan cries into the shoulder of the Iron Man armour Tony is controlling, and AI Tony is just trying to reconcile himself with a child.

They don’t talk much after that.

Tony is less like a ghost and more like a shell.

Morgan is less like a person and more like a figment.

It makes Pepper and Rhodey both sad to see it.

Eventually, they ask Tony if he wants to go offline.

Tony says yes.

They shut him down and pack him up in a box labeled “Tony.” No one touches it for forty years.

🖥

Morgan is 55 when she’s going through her mother’s personal effects. She finds the box labelled “Tony” and opens it up, curious.

She recognizes the programming that contains an AI immediately. She knows it’s her father’s digital replica.

She puts it back in the box.

Three days later she takes the box back out again. All she has left of her father is a 50 year old hologram, every design he’d ever made, and this AI.

She turns it on.

It doesn’t recognize her, and she didn’t expect it to.

“Hey! Where’s Rhodey? Pepper? I thought we agred I was going offline.”

“Change of plans. Try the house on for size.”

“Are you making me a butler?” Tony souds entirely offended, and Morgan smiles.

“No. You’d be terrible at it.”

“I really would. So what’s the about... whoever you are?”

“I just think it’s time you got to stretch your legs, that’s all.”

“Technically speaking, I don’t have legs. I’m a string of binary code.”

“Don’t get smart with me or I’ll make you share a charging station with Dum-e.”

“He’s still around?” He asked, looking aroud him, and Morgan smiled.

“Interface with the house and find out.”

It was the only permission AI Tony needed, and suddenly things were turning on and off at random, and there were dozen things happening all around the old farm house where she grew up.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

She leaves before he can tell her what he’s indignant about. She shuts down the internet access just in case.

🖥

“It’d take a genius to figure this out. Not that you’re not a genius, Morgan, but you’re in bio-tech, and this is... not that.”

Morgan looks at Harley quizically. “Are you saying you can’t figure it out?”

“Of course I can figure it out, but it’s going to take time we don’t have.”

“What if I said I had someone who might be able to help us.”

“And you’ve been sitting on them this entire time!?”

“It’s... complicated.”

🖥

“You aren’t a little scamp any more. Hell, I think you might be older than I am. Which means I’m really old. Shit.” Tony says to Harley as he sorts through the data they’ve given him access to.

“This will never work, an AI doesn’t have the same creative capabilities as a-“

“Got it!” Tony said, displaying a hologram that... actually looked like it could work.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Morgan smiled. “Great work Tony.”

“Sure thing.”

Harely looks at Morgan quizzically.

Morgan doesn’t look back.

🖥

“And who are you?”

“My name’s Elizabeth. I’m ten. You’re dead.”

“Smart one. Yeah, I heard. Say, Elizabeth, shouldn’t you be monitored by someone with... I don’t know, a body?”

“No. Mom said that I’m old enough to go wherever I want in the compound so long as I don’t do anything that might get me hurt.”

“Like walk into an active training room?”

“Basically.”

“Fair. Alright, well, your mom...”

“Morgan,”

“Morgan-” He said it and suddenly things made sense. “Morgan Stark.”

“Yup, and I’m Elizabeth Stark. You’re Tony Stark. That’s Harley. Hi, Harely. I’m not supposed to be here so don’t tell Mom, okay? Thanks.”

“Elizabeth, come on. Morgan wouldn’t want you to be hanging around in here.”

“He’s right. I’m a bad influence.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Watch your language, sir, there’s a lady present!”

Morgan laughed. “You sound like Mr. Rogers.”

“He’s still around???”

“Barely.” Harley mumbled under his breath. “Doesn’t keep him from trying to act like he’s still in charge of everything.”

“Mr. Rogers is bossy. Mom and Harley hate it. Peter says it’s fine. I think he just says that to be nice thought.”

“Sounds like it. Who’s Peter?”

“Oh, he’s Spider Man. You used to know him.” She squints at him, like she’s wary now that he’s not remembering all the parts of the past that he should. “Before you did the snap, you knew him. You gave him his first good spider suit. And then took it away. And then gave it back.”

“Sounds like me. You gonna take her back to her mom?” Tony asked Harley, and Elizabeth whined.

“No..! Come on, Uncle Harley, please??”

“Don’t Uncle Harley at me, you know that stopped working years ago. Come on, we’re doing lunch, and you’ll want to be out of here before Morgan gets an alert.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Harley,” Friday’s voice says apologetically, and Harley sighs.

“Figures. See you around, Tony. We’ve got some stuff to talk to you about later.”

“Yeah, sure thing! It’s not like I’m being held prisoner in my own lab!” AI Tony calls after Elizabeth and Harley.

“You’re not a prisoner, boss. Just on house arrest.”

“How can you call me boss and be the holder of the keys to my cell?”

“Not a prison.”

“Feels like a prison.”

“When given free reign of the house the first time you were brought online, you broke eight different electrical appliance. For the safety of the inhabitants, you’ll have to stay here.”

“We’re not worried about me breaking the lab? I could do some real damage here.”

“But would you?”

“...No.” Tony sighed, as much as any AI can sigh.

🖥

“What’s with the secret keeping Morgan? I feel like a piece of dirty laundry.”

“Captain Rogers would have a lot to say about an AI of you. I don’t want to listen to any of it.”

“So he’s Captain, now? Lizzie called him Mr. Rogers. Like from the tv show you’re too young to remember and I never actually watched.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard plenty about it over the years.” Morgan laughed, working across from her father’s hologram, but never looking at it. “But that’s just how Lizzie is. Everyone else she just calls by their first names, but Steve started putting a fuss up about it, so she started calling him Mr. Rogers instead.” She smirks to herself. “He’s gotten fussy in his old age.”

“Fussier. He was always fussy. He just wore a righteous look and an American Ass and everyone called him a patriot.”

“Well, two out of three of those things are still true.”

“No! He lost the ass?”

“He’s over 150 years old, Tony.”

“He’s a super soldier. He’s not supposed to loose the ass.”

“You’re kind of obsessed with Captain America’s ass.”

“I used to make his suits.”

Morgan laughs and it hits AI Tony in a very real way that he is talking to his daughter. He made his daughter laugh.

💻

“Tony! Mom gave me permission to visit.”

“How’d you weasel that out of her?” Tony asked, turning his hologram away from the manipulation station, despite his mind still definately being on it. It’s great to be an AI.

“I promised to clean my entire room.”

“Oh wow. That’s a hefty promise.”

“I’m not really going to do the entire room. She ever checks under the bed.” She rolls her eyes, and Tony raises an eyebrow at Friday’s security camera.

“I’m thinking she might this time around.”

She rolled her eyes in a way that was so familiar Tony was caught off gaurd for a minute.

“Tony. Hey! Tony!” She waved her hand in front of his face and he snapped his processing power back to attention.

“Hey is for horses, young lady.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes again, and AI Tony felt fond.

He felt.

“Tony! Why do you keep ignoring me?”

“I’m not ignoring you, Lizzie. I’m thinking deeply.”

“But you’re a computer. You have enough processing power to focus on other things and think deeply.”

“You’re right, but I’m running a little slow in my old age.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, “you don’t look that old.”

“Holograms don’t age. I’m a lot older than I look.”

She frowns. “Does that make you sad?”

Tony is about to say no, because he is an AI and incapable of feeling anything, let alone sadness, it’s all just predetermined choices and algorithms except... “yeah, it does.”

She patted the console that was closest to her like she might pat a sad cat. “I’m sorry you can’t get old like everyone else, Tony.”

“Me too.”

🖥

There’s a commotion happening that Tony can pick up even though he only has access to the mics in the lab. There’s some yelling, some smashing, and then there’s a bunch of sparks forming a portal into his lab and a weirdly dressed man with shaking hands and grey streaks in his hair is standing in his lab. Staring at him.

“Can I help you?” Tony asked, reaching out to Friday to activate security protocols and start shutting down anything and everything even remotely vulnerable in the compound.

“I think maybe I can help you, Tony.” The man says, and Tony cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Um, no offense, but I’m actually a computer. An AI. I’m not being held captive or whatever weird conspiracy theory has been floating around the internet. The real Tony Stark is dead. I’m just a copy.”

The man shakes his head and Tony keeps pushing Friday to tell her what’s going on, but he’s been bugging her so much lately that she’s ignoring him. Great.

“You’re not just a copy. You’re a part of his soul.”

“What?” Tony asked, staring at him like he was off his rocker (he was.)

“I second that.” Morgan said, glaring at the newcomer from the doorway.

“Morgan, I made you a promise years ago, that if I could bring him back-“

“He’s been dead for fifty years, Strange. Even if you could bring him back, what good would it do, aside from easing your guilt?” Her eyes are hard and Tony can tell this must be a touchy subject for her. That’s why he feels it pertinent to interject.

“Is that why I’m having feelings? Because AIs don’t usually have feelings.”

Stephen gestured at Tony like an argument had just been won and Morgan glared.

“You’re not touching him.”

“There’s a piece of his soul trapped here, Morgan.”

“He’s a computer!”

“Mom,” Elizabeth murmurs from the doorway. “Ama said she wants to talk to you.”

Morgan’s face falls into her hands and she digs the tips of her fingers into her scalp.

“Mom?”

“I’m coming, honey.” Morgan told her daughter, still frozen and clutching her head. “Tell Ama I’ll be there in a minute.”

Elizabeth left and then it was just the three of them.

Stephen was the first to break the silence. “If you leave him here, there’s always going to be a piece of his soul haunting you.”

“He’s fine right there.”

“He’s not. The longer he stays the more disconnected this piece of his soul becomes from the rest. With enough time it could break off entirely, and the chaos that comes with splitting a soul...” strange sighed. “If you’re not willing to let me try summoning the rest, at least let me send this piece back.”

“I can’t lose him.”

“I’ve been gone for a long time, honey.” Tony spoke up from where his hologram was trapped in a console. “Keeping me here isn’t really helping you anymore. It’s time to let go.”

“You’re a computer!”

“He’s a computer with a piece of your father’s soul, Morgan. It’s understandable that you’re attached, but the longer you leave him here, the more likely his soul will split. It could wrench Tony out of whatever afterlife he’s living and make him miserable for the rest of eternity.”

“Morgan.” Tony said, when Morgan still wouldn’t look up at them. “I don’t know who this guy is, but I think I might agree with him.”

“Stop it.” She said, nearly too quiet for his mics to pick up. “Stop it. Shut up. He’s.. he’s fine. It’s fine. There’s not.. it’s just an AI.”

“An AI with feelings and the capacity to be creative. You have to know that’s not normal.”

Morgan is silent for a few more minutes before shaking her head and straightening her back. “Do whatever you have to.” She tells him, and both Stephen and Tony are struck by how much she looks like Pepper in that moment. She walks away with her head held high and doesn’t even look back to say goodbye.

It hurts.

🖥

On the Astral Plane, Stephen guides Tony’s soul through the process of rejoining it’s larger half, and Tony finds it hard to believe that he, a network of processing power, can project an astral form.

“Do you see how much more translucent you are than I am? It’s because you’re only a fragment. Tony put his soul into designing this AI just in case, and you were so similar to him that his soul might not have recognized his death.”

“Ghost soul. Cool. I actually haven’t heard weirder things, which is odd, but a pleasant surprise. When do I get dead?”

“I have an incantation I can try, but it might hurt.”

“Just do it.”

🖥

“Look who’s back.”

Tony opened his eyes to see the roof of the porch of his dream house with Pepper. He sat up and was greeted with Pepper drinking an ice tea and smiled at him. Pepper, who looked as young as she had been when they’d gotten married. He knew objectively that she’d gotten older, but he hadn’t been online for her death. It was like jumping back in time to before he was an Artificial Intelligence. “You were gone for a while. Glad to have you back.”

“I put a part of my soul in the AI.”

“Yeah,” She nodded, handing him an untouched and perfectly cool glass of tea from the tray beside her. He took it without hesitation, shocked to feel the condensation, the smooth glass, the hard edge of the bottom of it. “I mean, I didn’t know that was where it was, but I knew that some part of you was still trapped there. You had that way of looking off into space sometimes, I think that was when you were over there.” She took another sip of her tea and Tony mimicked her, tasting something for what felt like the first time in fifty years. Probably because it was.

“Was I here before?” He asked, and Pepper nodded.

“You were here when I got here. Waiting for me like we were still newlyweds. Even carried me over the threshold.” She smiled, reaching out and stroking her hand down his cheek. Tony closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Figured the least I could do was be waiting for you with some sweet tea.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He reached for her free hand and dragged her closer to him, needing to feel her solidly against him to prove to himself that it wasn’t just a dream.

“You became a great man. That makes you deserving of just about anything you want.” She followed where he pulled her, settling into his lap and wrapping her arms around his waist. “And now we just have to wait for our baby.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. I don’t want her to be here.”

“And I do?” She laughed, pulling a strand of his hair back into place. “But we all come here. She’ll come and visit us, sometime. It’ll be nice, I promise.”

“I think she hated me, at the end.”

Pepper frowned and ran her thumb over his eyebrow, calling his attention to her. “I know our daughter, Tony. Morgan may have been frustrated, you’re a frustrating man,” she laughed and kissed his forehead, pulling him into a hug. “But she loved you with her whole heart, and nothing could have changed that.”

“I hope you’re right.”

🖥

“Huh,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow at a newly deceased Doctor Strange. He and Pepper were the only ones left in their little afterlife, everyone else having reincarnated long ago and moved on to other after lives. But not them. “I told Pepper we were waiting for someone. Pep! We have a guest.”

“What?” She asked, coming out from the house, a smudge of paint on her right cheek. “Tony who-? Oh! Doctor Strange!”

“I told you we were waiting for someone. Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did, and it’s just as insufferable to hear you say it now as it was a millenium ago.” She leaned down to kiss Tony on the cheek and then looked back up at Stephen. “Won’t you come inside? If I’d known you were coming I would have had something ready for you, but Tony and I stopped bothering with food centuries ago.”

“That’s not entirely true. I still soul magic up a cheese burger every now and then.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and smiled at Stephen’s flabbergasted look. “You don’t have to just stand there, Stephen.”

“Yeah, Strange. Come sit down, take a load off. I’ll keep you company while Pepper does food.” He said, looking at Pepper for approval. She waved him off.

“He’s actually not as useless in the kitchen as he used to be, but it’s been so long since he’s done anything but cheese burgers he might have forgotten.”

Stephen felt like he was watching some kind of television show, an outsider looking into the afterlives of two souls who were obviously extremely close. What was he doing here?

“Honey, I think we broke him. Strange, you with us pal?” Tony got up from his chair, setting aside the bits and bobs he’d been tinkering with for the last 100 years or so. He came down the stairs slowly, hands outstretched to Stephen. “Stephen? Hey, did you leave a piece of your soul back on earth too?” He laughed, trying to break the tension.

“I don’t understand why I’m here.” He said finally, shrugging off Tony’s hand where it touched his forearm. Only then did he realize that his hands weren’t shaking. The scars were still there, but his hands were as steady as they ever were. When he looked back up at Tony his right arm was also heavily scarred, but his face was unmarred. He looked back down at his hands and Tony caught the drift.

“It’s pretty easy to hide scars here, if that’s something you want. I can show you. Pepper’s skin is flawless, but I’ve got a few doosies that I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding. I mean, I know scars give a man character, but not the expense of this face.” He ran his scarred hand over his unscarred cheek. “You wanna take a minute? Let’s sit down.”

Stephen followed Tony’s lead to the porch and sat down to listen to Pepper and Tony recount their experiences in the afterlife.

🖥

Souls don’t really sleep, so when Stephen opens his eyes it’s not because he’d really been sleeping. If he tried hard enough, meditation was nearly sleeping, but there was no astral form to project into while he was “sleeping.”

There was no need. The fate of the universe belonged to someone else now. As much as he hated giving the duty up, Tony and Pepper were right about him deserving a retirement.

Pepper was the first to stir, reading a newly published (on earth) book by the reincarnation of her great grand daughter. “Such talent. Honestly. I wish we had done more of the liberal arts, Tony.” She passed the tablet to Tony, who touched it and knew the entire contents of the book. Pepper still preferred the act of reading, while Tony preferred to cut to the chase.

“I hate the liberal arts, but it is a good book. Strange.” He passed the tablet and Stephen handed it back to Pepper after learning the book’s title.

“I’ll read through it later.” He laced his fingers through Tony’s and let himself play with Pepper’s soft hair. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

There was a long pause and Stephen looked up at Tony and Pepper. They were having a silent conversation, and Stephen felt something like dread settle in his stomach.

“Pepper and I have been thinking.” Tony started before handing the reigns over to Pepper.

She rolled her eyes at Tony and then turned on her side to face Stephen completely, Tony leaning up on his elbow to give himself a better view of them. “We want to reincarnate, Stephen.” She said softly, laying one hand over his cheek. “We love being here with you. We do.” She reiterated when he looked like he was about to protest. “But everyone else we all know is long gone, back to the land of the living. We aren’t talking about any time soon, we want some more time with you here, but... We do want to go back, and we want you to come with us.”

“I can’t imagine living another life without you, Strange. What do you say?” Tony’s hand settled on Pepper’s hip, but his eyes were pleading at Stephen. “Come with us?”

Stephen looked between the two of them, momentarily lost for words before he finally said, “I don’t know how I could say no to that.”

“Ideally, you don’t.” Tony smiled, leaning across Pepper to plant a kiss on Stephen’s cheek just above where Pepper’s hand rested. “And since this is the afterlife, everything’s pretty ideal.”

Pepper elbowed Tony to get him to get off of her and leand in to give Stephen a kiss of her own, just a soft peck on unchapped lips. “I can’t wait to live a life with you, Stephen Strange.”

“Ditto.” Tony said from where he’d collapsed back onto the bed.

“I love you both.” Stephen smiled and Pepper smiled back.

“Ditto.”

#endgame spoilers #tony stark #stephen strange #pepper potts #endgame: drpepperony #drpepperony

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years ago

Text

Ripped: Part 18

Hey so uhhhhh...here

Ao3

Before the condos went in, the East side of Downtown Berk was five generations of tacky all stacked together in narrow, street-facing Victorian buildings. The factories and lodging houses were mostly converted into apartments during the first world war, when Berk’s harbor was necessary to the war effort and suddenly people could regularly afford more than nightly rent. Then prohibition took effect and internal bathrooms were hidden to act as stills, speakeasies like Gruff’s used to be were nestled inconspicuously into the mouths of alleys, adding to the city center’s labyrinth. The depression brought back the web of shantytowns that again depleted for the war effort.

The forties and fifties brought back growth, but it stayed inside for the most part, those valanced rectangular windows looking in on mid-century modifications returning fifty-year-old lofts back to the open floor plan they’d had as workhouse accommodations. Cars replaced buggies and the weekly markets became grocery stores. The sixties and seventies meant avocado green refrigerators and shag carpet, and people ran cable through tight nooks in the old brick walls or mounted satellite dishes to sloped roofs.

By the eighties, things started to slow down, between the commercial fishing lane closing due to pollution and the particle board monstrosities down south gradually becoming more affordable than the city. That’s when Hiccup’s dad started on the force, clearing out squatters and enforcing the rules as the government turned some of the less historical buildings into public housing. The nineties were quieter, the streets respecting Stoick Haddock’s vast influence enough to stay clean.

Then Berk University got ahead of the dot-com bubble and an influx of college students started filling up cheap housing. And then they had the money not to waste time winding fiberoptic cable through a hundred years of walls built with no concept of building code, so they started building from the ground up, rewriting a city that had always embraced edits.

Hiccup stares up at the condo façade from the sidewalk in front of it, eyes following crisp white trim against pastel panels. The balconies above him are covered in houseplants and bikes that are necessitating the city’s replacement of old cobblestone in favor of asphalt bike lanes. The windows are double paned and soulless, their locks visible from four stories down.

“Hiccup?” A voice startles him from his architectural roast: urban condo edition, and he whips around to see Ruffnut, dressed for an office and holding an envelope in one hand. He’d warn her against walking alone at dusk, but they’re far enough from Astrid’s apartment that it doesn’t matter.

That and it would be a really creepy thing to say, so he’s glad he stopped himself.

“Hey, Ruff,” he looks between her and the door to the complex, “do you live here? Or…”

“Right,” she snorts, “I pay my rent with the family gold.”

“Oh, I figured,” he gestures at a sign advertising new units, starting in the mid eight-hundreds, “paying that much for a cardboard shoebox must be so reasonable for you with your connections.”

“All my connections, sure, a bunch of Gruffnuts.” She smacks her leg with the envelope and lowers her voice, “apparently the copy of the deed with Tuffnut’s signature forged on it was illegally downloaded at this address a couple of weeks ago.”

Hiccup’s eyes twitch automatically to the Neighborhood Watch Force seal engraved on the main door above a phone number and the number for a main office suite in the building. It would make sense if Grisly was the one to send the deed to the twins, especially since it was the only thing connecting Tuffnut to Gruff’s murder. And if Tuffnut hadn’t been connected, he wouldn’t have been questioned, and he never would have recognized the dossier, which connects the entire case back to Astrid.

Yes, it’s another whole basket of leaps adding onto Hiccup’s probable bushel of leaps at this point, but the dark hole that settles in his stomach when Grisly says Astrid’s name is as solid as the flat poured, brand new sidewalk he’s standing on.

He just needs something, a scrap of evidence that’s probably obvious in unit 110 of this exact building.

“Oh,” he tries to sound distracted, bored even, “so you’re looking into that?”

“I guess not,” she sighs, “I was expecting one of Gruffnut’s sleazy friends’ house or something. Anyone affording this place surely has something better to do than rip off my brother.”

“Maybe it’s someone working here,” Hiccup shrugs, “I mean think about it, the Neighborhood Watch Force office is here and they probably have all sorts of access after partnering with the police.”

“Why are you here?” Ruffnut raises an eyebrow, not as easy to lead as Hiccup had originally hoped.

She’s Astrid’s friend though, she saw how uncharacteristically addled Astrid was when Eretson wanted her alone.

“Hear me out,” he pauses until she nods him along, “ok, so I think Grisly has something to do with all of this.”

“Grisly?” She frowns, “the silver fox at the precinct with the unfortunate twin kink?”

“Huh?”

“The guy in gray.” The shake of her head is pointedly disgusted in him for his lack of vision, “with the Russian accent.” She waits for him to catch up, “you think he killed Gruffnut?”

“Not in so many words,” Hiccup winces, “or maybe—it’s just a feeling, but after yesterday with Eretson—”

“What is up with the cops around here, by the way?” She grins like he’s not the wrong audience to admire Snotlout’s biceps with. “Anyway, whatever, get to your point.”

“I already did. I think Grisly has some kind of influence or part in what’s going on.” He bites his lip before continuing, hoping he found the right company to say this. It’s something he would have said to Heather, back when she cared about the discovery of it all, but he can’t say that even she would have really gone along with it. Investigating a very much inhabited building with a security force is different than a boarded-up basement no one would buy because of the grotesque murder committed in it a century ago. “And I’m trying to figure out how to check out his office.”

“So you hop right from a hunch to breaking and entering?” She folds the envelope and tucks it into her pocket.

“After yesterday, Eretson thinks Astrid has something to do with the murders, and that’s entirely my fault.”

“Did you bring a lock pick or black spray paint or pantyhose or are we just doing this?” Ruffnut rubs her hands together and looks at the doors.

“Pantyhose?” He snorts, “I was going for more of a modern leg-line—wait, we?” He looks at her surprised and she shrugs.

“You’re crazy, I like crazy, I’m in. And it’s for Astrid.” She takes a step forward, “plus, if your hunch is right, maybe we can figure out who printed out this deed. Is the door locked?”

“I haven’t checked,” Hiccup points at the hours listed on the glass, “it says it closes at six though, and I don’t like the ‘appointment only’ in the fine print.”

Just then a woman walks mostly past the inside of the doors then freezes, squinting out at them and cracking the door to peek her head out. She has an ID badge around her neck and reading glasses pushed up onto her graying hair.

“Are you the Bensons?”

“Bensons?” Ruffnut asks.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m waiting for a young couple who applied for a condo online, but I guess that’s not you. Sorry!”

“N—”

“Yes,” Ruffnut cuts Hiccup off, her tone surprisingly confident, “that’s us. I’m sorry, I’m not used to the new name yet! Traffic!”

“I heard about that accident on the interstate and assumed you must have been stuck in traffic,” the woman opens the door and gestures them inside, “this shouldn’t take too long though, all the paperwork looks good. I assume you just want to have a look at the place before signing everything.”

“Thank you for accommodating us,” Hiccup looks around as the woman locks up behind them. When Ruffnut catches his eye she shrugs, surprisingly calm through the change in plans.

“Oh, it’s no problem, my office is right over here,” she leads them down a sterile hallway that belongs in a bank or medical center, the walls lined with black and white pictures of the buildings torn down to build this monstrosity.

She opens the door of Unit 130, right next to a shadowed Unit 110 and Hiccup grabs Ruffnut’s elbow to stop her from entering the woman’s office.

“I noticed on the door that Unit 110 is supposed to house the neighborhood security office,” he asks, trying to sound more like a theoretical ‘Benson’, who is apparently buying a condo, than himself, “is it closed at six on a Friday? That doesn’t seem very responsible.” Mr. Benson, the condo buying adult, is very concerned with how responsible people are.

“Oh, Grimmel is in all the time, you’ll see when you move in,” the woman laughs like old ladies do when Snotlout helps them across the street, “he introduces himself to all of our new residents as Mr. Grisly and acts all tough, but don’t worry, he warms up quick and everything has been so much quieter around here since he started.”

“Quieter?” Hiccup follows the woman into her office and sits down next to Ruffnut in the chairs on the other side of her desk, “what do you mean by that?”

“Given that you checked for security, I’m sure you’ve heard all those stories about how this used to be a bad part of town,” she rolls her eyes, “that was ages ago, we’ve really cleaned it up around here. Most people in the building work nearby, it’s a real community of young urban professionals like yourselves.” She pushes a stack of papers towards them and starts flipping through, “when was the wedding again?”

“The wedding?” Hiccup squawks and looks at Ruffnut, who has produced a ring and slid it onto her left ring finger since he last looked at her.

“Oh, it was just two months ago,” she winds her fingers through Hiccup’s and he freezes. He was just lying to get in the building, he didn’t think he’d end up in someone’s office in front of real estate papers, much less holding Astrid’s best friend’s hand while she’s wearing a mysteriously obtained ring.

Is this binding if Mr. Benson has to sign anything?

“Newlyweds,” the woman shakes her head affectionately and Hiccup nods, letting his eyes dart to the corners to check for security cameras. He doesn’t see any, but he didn’t see Grisly’s camera on the midnight tour either. “Oh! I just remembered, there’s one blank your income information that’s not quite filled out.” She points a manicured finger at a blank line labeled ‘Title’ above a number for income that Hiccup definitely doesn’t make in a decade. Maybe pretending to be the responsible Mr. Benson has some merit. “We just need your title to double check with the company.”

“Oh that’s my honey-pants,” Ruffnut coos, “he’s so modest, he just got a promotion and doesn’t like to brag.”

“Well, it’s not bragging when you report that number for taxes,” the woman rolls her eyes and stands up, “while you finish these up, I’ll go get the keys to the place. They just got the new backsplash in and it looks amazing.”

“Sounds great!” Ruffnut says too enthusiastically and the office door shuts, leaving them in silence.

“What the hell was that?” Hiccup disentangles his hand from hers, “and where’d you get that ring?”

“It’s fake,” she looks at her hand, “or mostly fake, it’s for emergencies.”

“Right, most emergencies can be dealt with by pretending to be married, of course.” He deadpans, looking back at the door, “we should go, this isn’t working.”

“You’re giving up on our marriage after only two months? I didn’t take you for a quitter when I said those vows—”

“Ruff—”

“On a beach in Mexico and Snotlout and Eretson were both groomsmen and their rented formal speedos matched the color of the Caribbean.” She grins at him and he sighs, looking across the desk and trying to think.

There’s a key ring right in front of the woman’s chair, a tag on it clearly labelled ‘Benson’, and he takes it, tossing it up and down in his palm.

“While you happen to be describing my dream wedding, and we should talk centerpieces later, I have a better plan.” He lets the keyring dangle from his finger, “obviously, these aren’t in the condo. And even more obviously, she can’t see very well since she missed them on the desk right in front of her.”

“That’s not a plan, Sherlock Condo.”

“Funny,” Hiccup hides the keys in his pocket when he sees the woman coming back down the hallway, “just follow my lead, alright?”

“As long as it’s clear that I wear the pants in this relationship,” Ruffnut grabs a handful of his ass and squeezes just as the door opens. “We can’t wait to see the place, right honey-buns?”

“So excited!” His voice cracks and the woman looks suspiciously at Ruffnut’s arm.

“I was sure I left the keys up there, but I must have brought them down,” she starts sifting through the biggest drawer behind her desk and Hiccup makes his move, edging out of Ruffnut’s reach on the way.

“Here! I’ll help,” he purposefully fumbles the stack of papers they were just signing, sending loose leaf and a pile of knick-knacks all over the floor. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

“He’s a real klutz,” Ruffnut explains as Hiccup kneels down and starts spreading the mess, “outside of the bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sure she does, babe, you’re not really being subtle about it,” his laugh barely forces through gritted teeth, “can you get down here and help me?”

“Oh, you two don’t have to do that,” the woman finally kneels down herself, squinting to try and make sense of the purposefully thorough mess. She reaches out to pick up a small sculpture obviously made by a child and her glasses fall off, onto the ground by Hiccup’s knees.

“Here, I’ll get those for you!” He announces, reaching at the same time as she does and barely beating her. Their hands tangle as she pulls the glasses back towards her face and he makes the move, fumbling with the snap holding the ID card onto her lanyard.

“That’s where I left those!” She finally puts the glasses on and Hiccup quickly shoves the ID behind his back, relaxing slightly when Ruffnut takes it. “I’ve been looking for my glasses all day and they were on top of my head the whole time.”

“I hate when I do that,” Hiccup shakes his head and stands up, trying not to flinch when Ruffnut grabs his ass again. This time she leaves more than claw marks behind though and he feels the access card in his back pocket.

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t bolted on, dear,” she laughs, patting the back of his pants and he jumps.

“Let me go check the condo again,” the woman points at her glasses, “I might have better luck finding the keys, I’ll be right back.”

“Sounds great!” Hiccup nods.

“I’ll clean up his mess,” Ruffnut whispers on one side of her hand, like she’s telling a secret, “it’s what I’m best at. Men, right?” As soon as the door is shut again, Hiccup takes a big step away from her and she nods to herself, “that went well.”

“You kept grabbing my ass!” He whisper yells, cracking the door to check the hallway. It’s still empty and Ruffnut slips out behind him.

“We got the key, didn’t we?”

“I’m dating—well, we haven’t said the word, but I—Astrid, in case you didn’t remember.” He holds his breath as he presses the key card to the sensor next to the doorframe.

It turns green and he turns the doorknob slowly, half expecting a booby trap or Mr. Grisly sitting in the corner in a swivel chair that turns around right as he flicks on the light. His hand hovers over the switch for a second before he thinks better of it. The light would be too obvious from the hallway, anyway.

“I’m Astrid’s best friend,” Ruffnut scoffs, hurrying Hiccup into the office so they can get out of the hallway, “I’m quality control.”

“I’m sure Astrid can do that herself,” he lets his eyes adjust, glad to see the empty desk chair in the corner. When he’s sure he won’t instantly trip and announce himself, he creeps over to the computer, waking up the monitor and quickly dimming the screen as far as it’ll go.

“So she’s done her own inspection then?” Ruffnut crouches down next to him, wiggling eyebrows tinged blue by the generic background.

“Clues, Ruff,” he points at a filing cabinet, “we’re looking for clues.”

“I’m just fake married to you and you’re a nag,” she sneaks over to the cabinet and opens the top drawer. “It’s empty, there’s nothing here.”

“We’ve been here all of two minutes,” he frowns, scrolling through empty file after empty file. He checks the drive and no storage is taken up aside from operating system and installed programs.

“Who would keep their evidence in a room that Glasses the Idiot could access?” She scoffs, “hell, who doesn’t lock their computer?”

“Someone who’s not using it,” he sighs, “you’re right. It’s an office but he clearly doesn’t do anything here.”

“Guess some rich asshole upstairs illegally downloaded the deed to Gruff’s,” Ruffnut wipes her hands on her pants and points at the door. “Should we get out of here before Glasses comes back?”

“I wonder if there’s a way to get a residence list,” Hiccup glances at the empty printer on the desk and gets an idea. “Let me check the printer ink levels to see if he’s been using it.”

“Hiccup, there’s nothing here,” Ruffnut grabs the back of his collar and yanks, ignoring his sudden choking sound.

“At least let me shut the monitor off,” he fumbles for the button just as a voice pipes up in the hallway.

“Grimmel!” There’s just enough light for him to see Ruffnut’s nervous expression before he clicks it off.

“If you’ll excuse me Ms. Moore,” the accented voice is lighter than usual, more alive through the door than it was across an interrogation room, even over hours of gory discussion, “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’ve got a rather time sensitive clean-up on my plate at the moment.”

“Just a second, if you have it, I’m just about to show two new residents—lovely young couple—their place and they were asking about your hours.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to catch them another time, Ms. Moore,” Grisly’s too bright voice draws her name out as the handle to the office half turns, and Hiccup doesn’t think, he just grabs Ruffnut’s arm and pulls her under the desk with him. It won’t do much if he sits down to check e-mail, but it’s better than nothing.

“The Bensons, I think they’re really going to like it here, they’re just in my office—Hello?” Glasses’s voice dulls slightly like she’s in the destroyed office next door.

The opening line of ‘I Shot the Sheriff’ pours out of Hiccup’s phone and he swears, yanking it out of his pocket and declining Snotlout’s call as quickly as he can.

“You have your ringtone on?” Ruffnut hisses, “do you know what year it is?”

“It’s Snotlout, he thinks it’s funny,” Hiccup shuts his phone off entirely and waits, wincing at the sound of his own breathing.

“Ms. Moore,” Grisly says as he opens the door, his accent crackling with some of its usual chill electrified, “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.” He steps into the office and shuts the door across any further attempts at conversation. He mumbles something in Russian that Hiccup is confident calling an insult by tone alone and turns on the light.

In the dark, Hiccup didn’t notice the small sink against the opposite wall, but the sound of the faucet and Grisly’s creepily happy humming as he starts to wash his hands gives Ruffnut a chance to whisper.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ll distract him, you make a run for it?” He offers and Ruffnut rolls her eyes, too comfortable hunched under the desk mid-trespass.

“If anyone’s distracting him, it should be me.”

The sink turns off but Grisly keeps humming, turning slightly so that if Hiccup peeks just barely around the tangle of computer cords, he can see that Grisly is holding something. Wiping something down maybe, from the scrap of cloth he throws away before he sets whatever it is in a drawer that he locks with a key from the ring on his belt.

Then Grisly wipes his hands with another wipe from a Clorox can, like a germophobic Bond villain in a lair far more grandiose than the security office at a poorly built condo development.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he hisses, double checking his cuff under his pant leg in case he has to run. Not that it’ll help much, not with catching Grisly suspiciously pleased with himself as he turns the sink back on and starts scrubbing his hands again.

“Follow my lead,” Ruffnut stands up from under the desk, leaning back against the printer and pressing its power button so that it lurches to life with a screech and a series of clicks. Grisly turns around, a flash of shock humanizing his features for a brief second as he stares at her, too stunned to check under the desk. “Hey Sailor,” Ruff greets in a pointedly husky voice, one hip cocked.

“How did you get in here?” Grisly stomps across the room and grabs Ruffnut by the arm, which only makes her grin wider.

“Does that matter?” She twirls the end of her hair in her free hand, pointing at the door with her chin as she bites her lip.

Hiccup takes the chance, sliding out from under the desk as quietly as he can and slipping around the corner, staying low like he anticipates a velociraptor in pursuit.

“What are you doing in my office?” Grisly sounds as addled as Hiccup has ever heard him and he freezes, trying to figure out how to get Ruffnut out along with him.

But with Snotlout suspended, Hiccup doesn’t know how he’d get away with trespassing, so he leaves that problem to five seconds from now Hiccup, sneaking a cautious arm up to the doorknob.

“Are you asking what we’re doing now or what I intend for us to do?” Ruffnut laughs, “because right now we’re just standing here and you’re kind of yelling at me, which could be hot if your breath didn’t stink so much. Wait, I think I have gum!”

Grisly yells, inarticulate in his frustration, and Hiccup opens the door just enough to slip through, popping to his feet and cushioning the sound as it closes behind him. He makes for the back door to avoid Ms. Moore’s office, swearing under his breath at his phone when it takes what feels like forever to power back on. Every second that passes without more than yelling from Grisly’s office feels more tense and more miraculous and by the time he’s outside, it feels like his head is going to explode with it.

“Come on, come on,” he whispers at the phone, trying not to give into the guilt that’s prodding him to run back inside. He can’t help Ruffnut if he’s caught too.

The back door to the building opens again and he freezes, looking around for something to hide behind but seeing nothing but an empty alley. He waits Grisly’s enraged, split glacier face to emerge but instead, it’s Ruffnut.

“You’re ok!” He grabs her hand and yanks her down the alley next to him, not pausing until they’re out on the street among a few straggling commuters. “How’d you get out of there?”

“Irritated him, mostly,” she shrugs, obviously proud of herself, “I figured he wouldn’t think anyone was trespassing for information if he thought a crazy stalker—in this case me—was trespassing to make a move on him.”

“That’s—that’s actually kind of smart.” Hiccup realizes he’s talking way too loud and starts walking, head ducked down like he learned ages ago for exiting alleyways incognito, “I don’t know why it worked, but it did, and that’s what matters.”

“Are you going to get your phone?” Ruffnut asks and only then does Hiccup realize it’s vibrating.

“Shit, yeah,” he stops and frowns at the screen. Berk United Hospital. He doesn’t think he owes the hospital anything, Snotlout’s insurance is pretty good, so he usually keeps up on those bills. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling from the Berk United Trauma Ward, can I speak to Hiccup Haddock please?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, tongue suddenly too big for his mouth, “you are, I mean I’m him. What’s going on?”

“You’re listed as Snotlout Jorgenson’s emergency contact,” the voice on the other end dips, somber like nurses get when the news isn’t good, “he’s just been brought in.”

“Is he ok?” Hiccup asks when the voice doesn’t automatically explain, dizzy as he leans back against the nearest wall.

“What’s wrong?” Ruffnut mouths and Hiccup shakes his head.

“Are you able to come to the hospital now?” The voice asks gently, “it’s urgent.”

“Yeah, I—on my way.”

Hiccup knows hospital calls. He knows how nurses sound when they’re underpaid and overworked, how they sound the first time they call about a bill and the fifth. He knows appointment calls and rescheduling calls, because over the years he’s had hundreds.

He’s only had one urgent call and he knows it better than the rest. He knows it like he knows blood on pavement and the way even his dad looked smaller on a gurney, surrounded by machines that were still clicking off to rest before their next, hopefully more successful, use.

Ruffnut must get him a ride because he doesn’t do anything, he barely feels himself walking and then he’s standing in front of the check-in desk at the emergency room, his own hands unrecognizably pale and waxy on the counter. The nurse looks up and her eyes widen, and Hiccup realizes he’s shaking like he’s the patient. That snaps him out of it enough, because he doesn’t want anyone focusing on him right now, not when it could matter.

Unless it doesn’t anymore.

Unless that was the last time Snotlout would ever call him and he declined it, because he was doing something stupid, because he wasn’t where he should have been. Again.

Urgent calls don’t end well in his experience. Urgent calls end with his dad’s blood-stained wallet in a plastic basket, staring down at a beardless picture on a drivers’ license and wondering if he ever knew the man at all.

“Can I help you, sir?” The nurse behind the desk asks and he shrugs.

“I’m not really sure,” he swallows hard. He has to ask the yes or no question that’s wedged in his throat like it’s trying to shelter him from the answer by cutting off oxygen. One answer is the exact opposite of helping.

“Do you need to sit down?” She stands up, reaching out like she thinks she’s going to have to catch him and he exhales slowly.

“I just got a call about Snotlout Jorgenson?” He asks slowly, each word taking up its allotted measure of breath and leaving him with an empty chest that’s still not big enough for his pounding heart.

“I’ll look him up.” The keyboard clicks are deafening, each tap removing a barrier between Hiccup and the truth he doesn’t think he wants yet.

He thinks of the apartment and how empty it was before Snotlout moved in. That bedroom full of his dad’s things he didn’t want to look at, in case they belonged to a stranger. He remembers how it felt like the sound of his chewing echoed off of the empty walls, like he was living in a museum that regarded him as an impermanent exhibit, moving around hallways until he realized he didn’t belong.

“The Trauma Unit desk is on the second floor, the elevator is just down the hallway to your right.” The nurse’s face is urgent now, formal in that way doctors are when they have bad news they need to be inhumanly calm about.

“Yes or no?” Hiccup asks, hands shaking again as he stands away from the desk and runs his hand through his hair. “Do you know and just can’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the words squeeze his heart in a vice that lets go too quickly when the sentence continues, “you’ll have to talk to someone at the desk upstairs.”

“Ok,” he walks towards the elevator before he keeps talking, because the urge to remind the nurse that his dad was on the first floor is overwhelming. His dad was on the first floor in a room near the back with a window looking out on where the cannery used to be before someone tore it down and built a motel. If they’re going to make an urgent call, they should do it right.

Hiccup follows the signs towards trauma, vaguely aware that his quest is a little ironic as his mind flicks again and again through what a day would be like without Snotlout. Another room full of things he can’t look at, this time because he knows too well who they’ll wish he was instead. He was with Snotlout when he got his driver’s license. He grew out that stupid moustache for it. He had the moustache in his academy graduation photo too, like polyester lint from his brand-new uniform stuck to his lip.

“Hiccup?”

Hearing his name makes him realize that he’s frozen again, ten feet back from the desk he’s been looking for, it’s helpful little sign reading ‘trauma’ like a lemonade stand banner advertising some neighborhood kid’s wares. The tile between his feet and the rubberized rug in front of the desk stretch and warp in his brain and he distracts himself, looking for whoever talked to him.

Astrid is handcuffed to a chair in the waiting room, her face pale and sallow and at odds with her determined expression. And he doesn’t have room to wonder why she’s here or why she’s cuffed, because the tiles between where he’s standing and her chair shrink, gravity shifting and pulling him towards her. He flops into the chair next to her, twice as heavy and half as graceful as usual as he throws his arms around her shoulders and buries his face in her neck.

“Hey,” she says like he’s a dog shaking in a thunderstorm, uncuffed hand rubbing his back, “did the doctor call you? I left my phone at my place so I couldn’t call—”

“Is he…yes or no?” He swallows hard and pulls back from the hug just enough to see her eyes, tensing at the sudden wave of trust that smacks him. She’ll tell him the truth, even if it’s hard, even if it doesn’t help, and for a second, he wishes he could let go of her rather than hear it, but he crossed that bridge a long time ago.

The second he handed her his Admiral Haddock book, he resigned himself to her most honest assessment, he just didn’t know it would matter so much.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” she shakes her head, “he’s in surgery. I haven’t heard anything because Eretson cuffed me to this fucking chair.”

“He’s still in surgery,” Hiccup repeats to affirm it, waiting for her to say it’s a joke and trusting her too much for that at the same time. “It’s urgent but he’s still in surgery?”

“He was shot twice, Hiccup,” her voice is matter of fact but her hand on his arm is gentle, “his heart stopped on the way over, apparently—”

“So he is dead?” He shudders, “he’s an organ donor, he always said someone would be really lucky to get his organ someday—”

“Hey,” Astrid cups his chin, thumb pressed to his lips to shut him up, “he’s in surgery, that’s all I know.”

“That doesn’t help,” his laugh is fragile and he lets go of her to rub his hands over his face, elbows on his knees. “When they said it was urgent I expected an answer, that’s not an answer.”

“It’s not,” she agrees, yanking futilely at her handcuff a couple of times before stretching her other hand over to rest it on his back. “Not yet, anyway.”

#ripped #serial killer tour guide au #hiccstrid #modern au #httyd fic #coplout #also that whole thing with hiccups emotional trauma about his dad #and ruffcup faking married to buy a condo

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flimflamfandom · 5 years ago

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Somewhere There’s a Candle, Shines Through the Night

Who doesn’t love a movie?

Also, there’s a shortage of Calvin and Ivy in my recent writing, so uhhh yeah here’s some stuff.

Words:1056 Summary: Calvin and Ivy get to be on set together, sometimes. Warnings: Incredibly cheesy, and somewhat schmaltzy.

“Oh, james…” The two embraced tightly, and kissed each other deeply, as the camera moved in. Calvin poked through his copy of the script, and peered at it. He couldn’t quite see in this light.

“Cut! Good take, let’s break for a minute.” The director barked, as the actors all broke character almost immediately. Ivy headed over to him, and started to whisper. The director motioned towards Cal, and Ivy decided to walk over to him.

“Freckle!” She kissed his cheek. “How’re you sweetie?”

“Fine...you did great.” He smiled.

“Aww, thanks! Hey, I wanted to ask a question about my character.”

“Oh? Sure, go ahead.”

“Well, I feel like I did that last take a little too...excited about James.” She said. “I mean, if you read between the lines, she’s clearly not too interested in a romance at all.” She continued, “Isn’t she putting up some sort of act?”

Calvin nodded. “She’s an actress, though, she could pull that off.”

“I suppose you’re right.” The film was written by Calvin. It was just a little short film, called ‘Somewhere There’s A Candle, Shines Through the Night’ about an actress trying to get with some director’s son so she can murder the director. It’s...a dark film, and one that benefited from the Pre-Hays code world it inhabited, being done in early 1929.

“I suppose you’ll also wanna review that kiss, huh?” Ivy smirked and winked, kissing Calvin and holding him tight. Calvin pulled away and rubbed her cheek.

“Just like that.” He said.

Calvin watched as they filmed. He watched Ivy as she acted, her face filled with rage, tossing a lamp to the ground.

“You took EVERYTHING from her!” She shouted at the man across from her, the man playing the director. “Now I’m taking everything from you…” The action stopped.

“...Ned?” Ned was the actual director.

“Ivy?” The crew all sighed and loosened up. Calvin furrowed a brow...she never stopped in the middle like this.

“Where’s the axe?”

“Pardon?”

“The axe. She chops him up.” She said. “In Cal’s story, anyhow.”

“Oh, uhm...you must have yesterday’s script.” He said. He handed her his own copy. “The studio said we can’t show that.”

“What!?” Ivy rolled her eyes. “What a bunch of babies.”

“Yeah, well the babies write the checks.”

“So what’s she do now, huh?” She asked. “Tickle him to death? Give him a wet willy?”

“She Shoots him,” Calvin said, “I think props left that pistol right there.”

“Sweetie, you know she can’t just Shoot him!” Ivy groaned.

“Dearie, it’s all they’d let me get away with, the stabbing doesn’t work either.”

“You didn’t try and defend yourself up there?”

“Ivy I assure you, your husband had to talk to Mr. Thalberg, and he’s a very imposing man!” Ned tried to defend him, but Ivy was already standing over Cal.

“Sweetie, I love you, and I’d never want anything to happen to you, but the axe murder thing was supposed to be symbolic!” She started, “All that rage, and all it leads to is emptiness! Burning a big fire next to a little fire just puts both of them out and all that. You wrote it that way!”

“Ivy, I know, but there has to be some way you can show that without the axe murder thing. You’re the most clever woman I know, if anyone can figure it out it’s you.”

“I appreciate your compliment bu-....hold on, I got it.” She got back onto her initial mark.

“Neddy, let’s reroll it, I have an idea.”

Janet shouted loudly. “You took EVERYTHING from her!” She grabbed Harlan Wilcox’ pistol. “And now I’m gonna take everything from you!”

“Janet, what-AH!”

Janet fired every round of the revolver into him, and when the gun stopped firing, she just...kept pulling the trigger.

“C’mon…” She cried. A few tears fell from her eyes. She just...collapsed. She still pulled the trigger. James, and a policeman rushed in. Janet was bawling, an ugly, harsh cry.

“Did you get what you wanted?” James asked.

“...I never got anything I wanted.” Janet shakily replied.

“Cut! Brilliant! Great work, Ivy.” The cast and crew clapped, and Ivy hugged her costars, and then walked over to Calvin.

“Hey…” She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Fetch me a glass of water, y’gofer.” She winked and rubbed his side.

“Sure will.” She went with him and yawned.

“Phew...tough scenes today. Why’d you have to go and write such a sad movie?”

“I was sad, I guess.” He said. “I feel like, after all those rages I flew into, nothing came of it. I felt nauseous, empty...sick.” He added. “I just figured it’d make a good movie.”

“And you wanted to see how they’d do an axe murder scene on camera?”

“Well, maybe I wanted to see how the effects people would make it happen.” He giggled. “Hey, Ivy, do y’think they’ll give you residuals?”

“Oh, goodness, with my contract? I haggled with those men so many times they’ll be in hot water if they forget a nickel.” She said. “Talent isn’t free.” She said. “And they ought to pay you, too.”

“I dunno. I figure if people like it, it’s enough.”

“You were here more days than the screen adapter, you’d better get more than ‘people liking it’ or I’m going to Universal!” She laughed.

Calvin held her hand. “Where’d you get those tears from?” He asked, a hand on her shoulder.

“What? Oh, the last shot.” She looked down. “Well, I just…” She blushed a little. “It’s corny.”

“I like corny.”

“Says the guy who wrote a book about a woman chopping a man to pieces because her sister never got paid.”

“Hey, now...that’s besides the point.”

“Well, I thought about you.” She glumly replied. “And I thought about how you got such a bad deal.”

“Like you didn’t? You’ve been through an awful lot.”

“Well, my country isn’t a mess, and my mother didn’t beat me with a stick, and I never had a boss who made me kill for sport.” She said. “Besides, this isn’t a competition, we’re talking about tragedy here.” She added. “We’ve...both had a rough time, huh?”

“I think that’s changing.” he rubbed the small of her back. “I think we’ll be alright in the end.

#ivy pepper #Calvin McMurray #lackadaisy #FlimFlamuniverse

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breselin · 6 years ago

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LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

tagged by: stole it from another one of my blogs ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) tagging: imma tag quite a few people again PLS don’t feel obligated to do this, I’m ridiculously wordy, but it is a good exercise :^)

@furnezh | @lazhadeg | @unheimlig - @daemonczar | @lichsent | @quirofiliac - @edhelaran - @edhelgund - @faegrifted - @ndeavor - @garuvusu - @hallowedcraft | @hybridea - @rotcraft - @uccisore | @groazei - @atlaslain - @officiums - @tribinds | @capjacke - @culturedconjurer - @valorxdrive - @cielcrd | @ofastrcmancy - @bloodfcst - @grimmjxw - @despairforme - @potestasaeterna [ and whoever wants to take it, just say i tagged u ]

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

001. confident - his whole mannerism, the way he strides, the way he announces his thoughts, his goals, his wants - it all speaks of undeniable confidence, hard to shake, near impossible probably.

002. at ease - comes with his confidence, the knowledge of his powers and skill. there are very few and very rare moments when this wavers and even in seconds one might assume him ‘on edge’ it is not so at all, mostly misinterpreted by those around.

003. inquisitive - generally, as per his nature, he does like to read, to learn, to experience things. it also extends towards any person that manages to catch his interest - be it negatively or positively - as he will try and figure out the weaknesses and strengths of a person, and do so with unrelenting force.

004. nonchalant - a mannerism that grates on many people’s nerves, for things that are important to everybody else, he usually just brushes off if they do not concern him. he also reacts to any ‘higher rank’ rather informal and casual, situations depending, he can reject them with a simple flick of the hand.

005. tenacious - undeterred from his goal, no matter what is happening, no matter the obstacles placed in his way, he will move to overcome them all.

GREETINGS:

001. a nod - the most common greeting for him. a mere acknowledgement with a few words and a nod. it is the calmest and quietest way for him to greet someone, not quite push them away and offer the knowledge that he will speak to them.

002. a handshake - pretty much reserved for interactions with comrades and higher-ups [ rarely ] before his fall. as per his rank, he usually extends a hand first, not many being on the same level or even above him in the ShinRa rankings, so politeness gives, that he is the one inviting another person towards the greeting.

003. with words - specifically, after his fall, for he is the one luring a person: mostly mocking them, making them follow him. the words are generally calm as is his tone even and smooth, but they pose a challenge, something that sings of danger, despite the chosen vocabulary doing none of it.

004. with a partner: an embrace, a kiss - it depends, but mostly it is both. he isn’t a man that is against public displays of affection, quite the opposite, given how obsessive he can be and how possessive he turns out to be the more and more a relationship progresses. obviously, a partner has to be okay with that, otherwise, he would not pursue this sort of greeting, but if they are, it is a given.

005. with friends: it depends how close someone is to him, how much they ‘mean’ to him: a handshake, an embrace, maybe even a palm on their lower arm - all gestures of amicability, something calmer and more relaxed from his side, an easy show that they mean [ at least ] something to him.

COLOURS:

001. black - his whole attire is black, contrasting vividly with his hair.

002. silver/white - depending on the shine of the light or where he stands, his hair can have either colour. his sword’s edge also plays a part to the near yin and yang of his whole looks.

003. blue/dark blue - Masamune’s sword’s hilt, especially the plaited pattern is dark blue, one of the very few accent colours one might be able to find on his person, even in more casual and informal attire.

004. green/light blue: ‘the colour of the sky’ - his eyes. one of the first things many people notice about him. not only because of the colour, as SOLDIERs, due to mako infusions, have this very specific eye-colour, but also due to the shape: for him nearly in a cat-eye like an appearance.

005. gold - another accent colour due to Masamune’s look. the Tsuba, or the hand guard, is coloured completely gold, as well as the end of the Tsuka, or sword’s hilt, is accented in gold as well.

SCENTS:

001. blood - the metallic smell of it lingering on his person very finely, only to be picked up by those with very keen senses or very close to him.

002. smoke - also a scent that clings to him like a fine veil, easily evoking emotions for anybody who had experiences with it, albeit it usually only comes forward once he was close to a fire or was the cause of one. otherwise, this scent is only barely lingering and generally not perceptible.

003. rain - due to his weather manipulation abilities, the smell of the air after the rain or from a thunderstorm rolling in is very prominent on him. it can be unsettling as well as soothing in the same breath, depending on how someone meets him and under what circumstance.

004. leather - a rather heavy scent, nearly warm and comforting, usually mixed in with aftershave or cologne. due to his outfit being in large parts made of very strong and sturdy leather, he smells like this more often than other things.

005. woods, forest-smells - he takes long walks and tours through forests, being completely undisturbed by rain or sun, so it does not deter him to stop anytime soon. the scent that comes from that is, again, soothing and nearly warm, something unexpected on him, due to his nature and volatile habits.

CLOTHING:

001. battle outfit - a long black coat with silver pauldrons, black boots and black trousers. the coat is half opened at the chest, leather straps crossing over it. the coat itself is held at the waist with a belt, multiple more belts accentuate the rest down towards the knees. he wears another large belt underneath the coat too, protecting his stomach area from possible impacts. the boots are held in place with multiple straps as well so that they won’t move nor shift during quick succession attacks. the pauldrons, at least in his original outfits, are made of three parts, protecting his shoulder area, a part of his upper arm, as well as the area around the clavicle. in the end: places where most of the large veins and arteries are to be found. At the end of his arms are ‘wrist guards’, either one [ then on the right side ] or both with deep indents, important when he holds his sword in front of him, so that the back of the blade can comfortably rest inside the splint, making it hard to move it out of the way once he defends like this.

002. suits - mostly worn when he was still a ShinRa soldier and General and then to official events where the dress code commanded it. they would be black with silver or gold accents, in very rare cases also with a dark blue/dark violet vest, but comfortable nonetheless. [ he might, on request, wear them for a partner as well ]

003. casual: a loose shirt and trousers - he’s only casual when at his own place or with a partner. due to the fact that he barely registers weather and climate as it is, his clothing consists of what he finds most comfortable at the moment, but is always clean and fresh with generally neutral colours, as extreme patterns and styles aren’t to his liking.

004. environment/surrounding fitting clothing - meaning: he is willing to adjust to the world he momentarily visits, shall he have a partner or confidant in this world that would like for him to adjust to their styles and customs. as long as they only suggest or request and not order him to, he will follow in literally all the cases.

005. accessories - it depends. he only wears accessories if they fit for his outfits [ aka, in dissidia: he wears pearls and jewels here and there, mostly on his wrist and on the pauldrons ] or if they have been gifted to him by a person of importance. throughout the verses, there have been rings and necklaces in his possession, rings are usually worn beneath the glove or on a string around his neck as well as to not lose them.

OBJECTS:

001. Masamune - how he came into the possession of his sword is unknown, albeit there are a few theories about that: one of them being that it was a ‘gift’ of the remaining inhabitants of Wutai, who gifted him Masamune after he turned the Wutai war in ShinRa’s favour, albeit this is only a theory. He is said to be the only person who can wield it effectively.

002. a small notebook - from his time before his fall, he usually carried a small notebook with him for thoughts and ideas and things he wanted to look up later, as mentioned before, he loves to learn and loves to acquire knowledge, so having a notebook helps him to keep everything organised and in check.

003. a phone - issued by ShinRa. made so that Soldiers can start and end holographic missions in the training rooms, keep in contact with other soldiers [ mostly just amongst their ranks and their friends ] and with the higher-ups to distribute orders.

004. accessories gifted by partners - one of the very few items that can rile up his ire is someone trying to take them from him. typically, these gifts are related to jewellery and while he would not acquire any out of his own free want, he wears those bestowed to him all the time. try to take it, you will lose a hand.

005. otherwise than that? he is not quite a material person. time destroys many a manmade oddity and with himself being pretty much immortal? there is little he does hold worthwhile to keep.

VICES / BAD HABITS: [ click on the words for a nice list about Vices ]

001. brutality - this is self-explanatory. he is brutal in any fight, will slay any foe. uninterested in who they are and what they have done, as long as he considers them an enemy, they will fall by his own hand. he also has the habit of playing with his ‘prey’. chasing them along, giving them an opening where they think they might get him and then taking said victory away again. he also tends to injure his opposite heavily to a point that weaker enemies will die of blood-loss very quickly and it at least impairs stronger opponents. never get on his bad side: if he feels like the chase might be entertaining, he will do so viciously and violently.

002. manipulation - using clever words and ways to influence another person, making them follow his lead, serving for them to be his puppets; he can do all of that and much more just with how he speaks, what he presents and what others may feel about him.

003. resentfulness - he did not only learn to hate ShinRa, he learned to hate everything in his path and everything in existence, striving to undo and rebuilt, desiring to destroy what had wronged him. he knows that the planet itself and its inhabitants are not at fault, but that does not stop him, for his bitterness ceases in no moment at all.

004. disrespect - this depends but is a strong character-trait especially after his fall. he despises those that are arrogant without having the power to back it up, teases them on, disrespects their personal boundaries and words and urges them to strike. it can change very quickly, hence it ‘depends’, and will cease once he thinks the other person is worth his quieter and calmer personality. but it can also turn into a very vicious form of hate and ire.

005. malice - very obvious in an example when it comes to Cloud, whose existence and the opposition he forces towards Sephiroth’s goal actually managed to keep him alive inside the lifestream [ he was, undoubtfully, a catalyst for his ‘quick’ resurfacing, albeit it still took 5 years ]. his brutality in regards to how he reacts towards said opposition is striking and horrifying, any person getting on his bad side, will be treated the same - or even worse.

BODY LANGUAGE:

001. standing very straight - he’s very confident, knows of his power and is aware of his position and rank amongst his comrades, no matter the timeline and verse, he won’t slouch or bend before someone, except it is in greeting before those that deserve it [ and those are very few ].

002. beckoning with one hand - as he is very cocky and has a taunting nature, this is a thing he oftentimes performs in luring an enemy or battle partner closer to him. even if it may not have any effect, it is unsettling, usually combined with a chilling smile and the knowledge that if they don’t charge - he will.

003. tilting his head - it’s slight, it’s mostly a mocking gesture. sometimes he mimics another person and shows them their own behaviour like a mirror image [ not only with the head tilt ]. this very mannerism is usually depicted as ‘innocent’ and ‘casual’ when viewed in a lot of other people, but with him? it is turned into something grotesque and derisive, like a feline ready to attack at any moment.

004. pointing his sword at someone, moving them with the tip of it - he is shown to do so with a multiple of people: with Zack, with Cloud, with quite a few characters in the Dissidia-Universe. while it can be taken as an attack-stance, once again, it is merely mocking. specifically, if he does so with only one hand, instead of grasping Masamune’s hilt with both hands what usually leads to a charge only seconds later. the moving their head, their hair with the tip of his sword is dangerous, but due to high skill and precision, highly unlikely that he will grace or injure them. but the possibility is there and one wrong movement and that pretty head is gone.

005. to the last point: moving someone’s head, their hair with his own hands - that is rare and a spleen my version has. he does so as a means to figure out boundaries, as a way to see if he would face repercussions. the sole thought amusing him and enticing him to go a bit too far, depending on the person. he barely touches someone as it is still, only takes their jaw in his hand, or strokes with the back of his fingers along their cheek. if he only touches someone’s hair, it is a mere show and feeling that he could turn it into something else - but he won’t.

AESTHETICS:

001. a roaring fire, a dying fire - as much as it is destructive and has been used by him before, he finds watching a fire and listening to it ‘speak’ very soothing. it makes him relax easily and he can listen to it for hours on end. a dying fire, the last glimmers of it, the last clamour and uproar reminds him of many things he needs to keep in mind to go on, despite its beauty and its ‘dying breath’.

002. dusk and dawn - the day that dies and the day that is reborn. also a nice metaphor for everything he is, the colours fascinating for him, as one might want to say: ‘a man like him is raised in black and white’, and due to that, he enjoys any spectacle nature can present to him that is not distorted or even destroyed by humanity.

003. old and abandoned places - there is something inherently fascinating for him in these sites, as much as he doesn’t care and wouldn’t be interested in ‘haunted houses’, he does hold excitement for the locations where people lived in and made it their own, just for them to fade away and leave behind memories that can be discovered and secrets that can be found out, lest someone forget them completely.

004. large market places in bustling cities - he isn’t quite the man that cares for crowds or shies away from them, but a market place and merchants advertising their wares is the heart and life of a city or culture he knows nothing about and therefore the first place he would start with. be it in a moment when he is calmer, with friends or a partner, or in a modern verse, this is a place where he can be found a lot of times.

005. books, letters, the written word in general - with his interest to learn also comes a striving for the understanding of a culture’s language. he is quite a natural in learning different tongues: give him literature written in it and a bit of context and he will figure it out quickly and sufficiently. correct him a bit in the pronunciation and he will speak it easily; a hobby of his own that he won’t want to miss.

SONGS:

001. Winterspell - Two Steps from Hell.

002. Feel Invincible - Skillet.

003. Wolf - Skott.

004. Archangel - Two Steps from Hell.

005. Silver, Crimson, Black - Zack Hemsey.

Songs without explanation, just enjoy.

#★ [ headcanon ]#long post //#[ i swear this is like the last of these really giant ones i have #ramona what did u do all morning?#this meme + ordered food ]#[ update: food arrived ]

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