#it's only because we need a certain number of characters to make this flow properly and i could've added characters like

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

TUMBLR'S FAVOURITE TOKYO REV CHARACTER ROUND 1 BONUS ROUND: RESURRECTION!

There are two extra spots up for grabs in round 2 so to fill them I've gathered the 10 character's who lost the first round by the least during their match ups, vote for your favourite and the top 2 will advance to round 2, it's a second chance!

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.  

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole​ @lordof-bloodshed​ @courtofjurdan​

[kindiekritz]

Get Some Rest, Samurai...

Via Anon Ask; “because im also a sap for Johnny and V- How do you think Johnny would help V cope with a panic attack? Especially when its likely something he's feeling laggy echoes of himself if he's in her head during it? (hurt/comfort is a FAVE of mine and i have anxiety, can ya' tell?)”

B ro,, don’t worry anon bc same here, we are anxiety homies together 👏😔 - This is my first time writing for Johnny Silverhand! Trying to get back on the writing boat, (haven't forgotten my previous fic!) and there's nothing like simping for video game characters to get that inspiration flowing. Do let me know what you think! Johnny may be a bit too OOC in this, I may have gone a little bit overboard with the soft? Ah well, I hope someone will enjoy it regardless :P

Here is the Ao3 Link! :D

V’s time was running out. 

Every time the relic in their head would malfunction, every time they went into a coughing fit and the disgusting taste of metallic blood would fill their mouth, every time he would manifest himself in her head and V would catch a glimpse of his stupid fucking face…

V was reminded of the fact that their time was running out, and fast.

And despite the fact that they were doing everything in their power to stop the construct in her mind from completely destroying her from the inside out, that didn’t stop the fact that she still had to pay the rent. 

In fact, it wasn’t cheap coughing up the eddies to pay Rouge for her services, or having to pay for bigger and better gear that would keep her alive when dealing with Arasaka guards, hell, it wasn’t cheap to keep purchasing more and more bottles of Omega Blockers, the pills were the only thing that kept him from completely taking control. 

She found herself taking more and more gigs, trying to simply keep up with the extra costs of having a completely second personality living rent-free in her mind. But even then… she couldn’t find it in herself to reject or turn away people who needed her help, even if they had little to nothing to offer in return. 

It seemed as if her phone was constantly buzzing with calls and texts of people who wanted and needed her help. No matter where she went or what she did, people needed her services, people needed her time.

And yet, time was something that she had very little left of.

V was exhausted. The bags under her eyes revealed that she hadn’t slept in days, and she couldn’t remember when she last had a proper meal.

She was always on the go, she didn’t have time to take care of herself.

But as she groggily opened the door to her apartment, she thought to herself that… maybe, just maybe… she would finally let herself take a nice, long warm shower.

V was too exhausted to care about the possibility of Johnny potentially staring at her nude form as she stood under the running water. Hell, let him stare for all she cared! The thought of warm water running over her exhausted muscles, washing away the dirt and grime of the city… it was too appealing at that moment. 

She removed her weapon slung across her back, letting her beloved leather Samurai jacket slip off her shoulders and onto the ground, too exhausted to care about putting it away properly. 

The weight of the gun in her hands was normally a welcome and grounding presence for V when she was on a mission, the weapon in her hands keeping her safe from those who wished to do her harm. But now? It felt too heavy, unbearably so, as if the weight would make her topple over onto the floor below. The muscles in her arms were exhausted and spent. As she rotated her shoulder she heard the joints audibly pop. The consequences of pushing her body too far.

She would do anything for the physical ache to go away. 

As she stepped through the door to her armory and switched on the fluorescent lights of the room, her gaze fell upon someone already there, casually lounging atop her workbench and raising a cigarette to his mouth, pausing to speak before inhaling a deep puff of smoke.

“Damn V. You look like shit.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment, and made her way to her weapon locker instead, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on the nape of her neck.

V fiddled with the combination, her foggy mind struggling to remember the correct numbers and the correct order, her fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated as she inputs each digit. V cursed herself for making it so damn difficult, but eventually, she finally managed to swing the metal door open, proceeding to put her gun away amongst her collection of stored weapons. 

Johnny hopped off of the workbench, stepping towards V as she organized her storage, resting his metal arm against the locker, using his height to his advantage as he towered over her and confronted her. “No, seriously V, you look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”

“Fuck— Johnny, I dunno… A few days I guess?” V slammed the door of the locker using more force than necessary, Johnny already starting to get on her nerves, the last thing she needed was Johnny Fucking Silverhand following her around like a worried mother hen. V pouted and huffed, blowing away a stubborn strand of hair that had fallen across her face, then turning to meet his gaze, hidden behind wine-colored lenses, and asked, “Why do you care anyway?”

“You’ve been on edge all day, I can feel it. You’re like a string that’s been strung too strongly. I feel like you’re ready to snap at any fuckn’ moment, V.” 

She could feel his stare on her body and the tension in the room was beginning to suffocate her. He was poking at a sensitive topic for her, and he knew it. 

V stuttered, trying to find the right words to say as she couldn't bring herself to look at him in the eye anymore, instead choosing to halfheartedly push him aside and walk away, “Johnny… I’m fine. Really. I just— I just need a shower and a nap, that’s all.”

As V stepped out of the room, the weight on her chest seemed to grow heavier with each step. 

She wanted to crumble, she wanted to cry. 

She just wanted to wrap up herself in a bundle of blankets and cry into an order of takeout. One of those ugly cries that made snot dribble from your nose and your cheeks flushed and red.

She wanted— no, V needed to let everything out.

But… she couldn’t. She didn’t have the time for it, she needed to get back to work soon. Here were people that needed her help and there were eddies to be made. She would let herself rest when she’d gotten that damned biochip out of her head.

It was at that moment when V’s phone began to ring, the sound interrupting her thoughts and causing her to pause in her step.

Almost as if on reflex, she quickly reached into her pocket and withdrew the device, not even bothering to check the caller ID before answering, “V speaking, what do you want?”

“V, it’s Regina. I’ve got another report of a cyberpsycho attack…”

V stopped listening to the voice on her phone, too distracted by the crushing pressure on her chest and the fact that she had begun to tremble and shake like a leaf.

All she had wanted was a hot shower and a night in, was that too much to ask?

After weeks of dodging blades and bullets, running meaningless errands and tasks for just a few eddies in return, spending sleepless nights that left dark circles under her eyes, and going days on end without even seeing her fucking apartment, all she wanted was a night in.

Was that too much to fucking ask?

She could faintly register Johnny’s voice coming from behind her, an uncharacteristically concerned tone in his voice as he asked, “...V? What’s wrong?”

The pressure in her chest grew heavier by the second, her breaths becoming strained and labored as the increasing fear and dread overwhelmed her body. She gripped her phone tightly in her hand, glaring at the device with tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“V? Are you listening? I said that there’s another report of a cyberpsycho near your current position, are you still—“

With a press of a button, she hung up the phone.

Johnny watched V, her form trembling and shoulders tensed.

In all of their weeks stuck together, he’d never seen his little merc look so small. A real juxtaposition when compared to her usual self; a real fucking hardass, she was the only other person Johnny had ever met that was just as bullheaded and stubborn as himself. 

As much as he teased her about it, Johnny knew one thing for certain. V was strong, V was determined. A damned force of nature and he pitied the bastards that stood in her way.

But despite the cybernetics in her body and the chip in her mind… V was human. V had her limits.

The facade she’d built up for herself couldn’t last forever, and Johnny knew it. He’d sensed the cracks in her resolve grow larger and larger with each sleepless night and after every exhausting gig.

But for a brief second, a thought crossed Johnny’s mind; 

V was fractured… V was broken… V was weak.

And with that thought, V finally snapped.

“I AM NOT FUCKING WEAK!”

V cried out, lobbing her phone at him. It phased right through him, instead hitting against the wall, shattering the screen, and sending the device flying into some unknown corner of the room. 

She froze, her eyes widening in shock, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she had done. The realization slowly setting in after the result of her outburst.

V’s vision blurred as tears welled in the corners of her eyes, she slowly fell to the cold floor, cradling her knees up to her chest and muffling her sobs in her arms.

Johnny watched as she sat in the middle of the room and sobbed. 

She didn’t let herself cry when Jackie had died, she didn’t let herself cry when Vic told her that she was practically dying. V didn’t cry as she carried Evalyn’s bloodied body, and V didn’t cry late at night when she was alone, and her chest felt tight and her throat choked up.

He knew it was coming, he could feel V’s emotions as they bubbled up and reached their boiling point. 

But what truly surprised him, was just how much it hurt him to see his little merc cry.

“Shit— V…” he nervously swallowed his throat, but try as he might, for once in his goddamn existence, he couldn’t find the right words to say.

Johnny didn’t like the way he felt. 

Johnny didn’t like the way she made him feel at that moment.

He didn’t like the way his chest tightened at the sound of each of her sobs. The way he felt so restless as he could only watch her curl onto herself for comfort. He couldn’t stop himself from pacing back and forth across the room, unsure if it was her anxiety or his that was setting him off. 

Johnny could almost feel V’s heart racing in her chest, the adrenaline flooding her veins, adrenaline meant to stimulate a fight or flight reaction. But when the pain and panic swelled from within her own chest, there was nowhere V could run, nobody she could physically fight.

All she could do was sob into her knees, desperately trying to hide her sobs and cries from him, but her own cries easily overpowered her. 

And because of him, she didn’t even feel like she had the ability to freely have a goddamn mental breakdown in her own apartment, even as she choked and sobbed, she tried to grasp onto the shattered remains of her facade. Was it for her sake, or for his?

At that point… neither of them knew.

V couldn’t stop her body from trembling. She tightly gripped onto herself until her knuckles turned white. But V didn’t notice. It didn’t even register in her mind.

She didn’t register the hot tears as they streamed down her face, the shuddering cries that caused her lip to quiver with each breath. She couldn’t recognize that no matter how hard she tried, her frantic breaths caused her lungs to feel as if they were on fire, incapable of delivering oxygen to her body.

V’s mind didn’t even register the fact that Johnny had stopped pacing back and forth.

Her mind cursed at her to get her shit together. V needed to wipe away those tears and she needed to get back on the streets. A moment of weakness could’ve gotten her killed in her past, and now was no different. 

But… the thought of standing up and leaving her apartment caused another fresh wave of sobs to rattle her body.

She was tired… she was so goddamn exhausted… 

“V…”

All she wanted was a night in. Was that too much to ask? After all of her hard work and effort, hadn’t she earned it?

“V, listen to me.”

Clearly, she hadn’t done enough if people were still calling, still demanding her presence. Clearly she—

V felt something warm touch her cheek.

Someone was there. 

Although her mind had stopped temporarily spiraling, she felt the wet salty tears dripping down her face, her vision was still blurry, and her cheeks were incredibly flushed. She must’ve looked… pathetic she thought. But regardless, she allowed herself to look up at the person who had reached out to her.

The cold of his metal rings juxtaposed the warmth of his hand, and as her eyes trailed up towards his arms, she caught sight of his familiar tattoos, but also an unfamiliar detail as she reached his face.

Instead of seeing her reflection in the lenses of his glasses, she was surprised to see his eyes staring into hers. Gone was any trace of malice or cruelty, instead his brown eyes reflected nothing but concern… an emotion she’d never expected to see from him.

Johnny. 

As her tearful eyes met his, he could’ve almost sworn that he felt his engram heart stop beating for a second. The tears rolling down her cheeks, the way her lip trembled with each breath. He didn’t know why the sight of V feeling so upset affected him so, he blamed her emotions, her hormones, whatever came into his mind. He hated the way she made him feel, he hated that she had this much power over him. 

But most of all, he hated the fact that he felt so powerless to stop it.

He would’ve gladly taken V cussing him out, he would’ve taken V nagging at him and complaining about the smell as he smoked in her apartment. He would’ve even happily taken V as she sang along to the car radio, something she’d originally done to get onto his nerves, but now it has become a sound he’s grown… to tolerate. Even sometimes… appreciate it. 

He wasn’t the type to comfort people like this, he was the type to leave as soon as emotions came into play, the countless amount of hearts that he’d broken in the past were evidence enough. Fuck, he didn’t know how to deal with his own goddamn emotions, blowing up Arasaka tower as revenge to deal with his grief, that’s what got him into this mess.

But as he wiped away a tear from her soft cheek with his calloused thumb… he wasn’t going to just sit there and let his little merc cry.

“V. You’ve done more than enough for this city than it deserves. You’re always running back and forth, trying to make this shithole a better place… all while trying to keep yourself alive.” He wanted to tell her that this damned city didn’t deserve her generosity, it didn’t deserve her hard work, fuck, this city didn’t deserve her.  

He didn’t deserve her.

And she didn’t deserve what he was doing to her.

“You keep spreading yourself too thin, you keep wanting to do shit for others, you keep wanting to help. But then you add the cherry on top — the fact that there’s a chip in your head slowly killin’ ya… You’ve got enough on your plate. You’ve earned a few nights of rest.”

V sniffled and tried to wipe away tears, her voice wavering as she spoke, “I-If I don’t keep goin’ if I don’t keep looking for a solution— I’m gonna die. Johnny, I don’t want to die—“

“V, you’re gonna end up dead long before the chip has an opportunity to kill you if you keep pushing yourself like this… You need to get some rest.”

He was right. As much as she fucking hated it… he was right.

She felt his metal hand cup her other cheek, the cool metal refreshing against the flushed skin, wiping away tears as he continued to speak.

“You’ve proven yourself enough to this city. You’ve proven yourself enough to me. But running yourself to the bone is not worth it in order to prove it to yourself. And you’re not alone V… as much as they get on my fuckn’ nerves, you’ve got chooms lookin’ out for ya, even if one of them is a fuckn’ cop—“

Through tears, V chuckled and playfully chided him, “Johnny…”

There it was… that little chuckle of hers that he was looking for. He wouldn’t admit it to others, he wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but V’s laughter never failed to make him feel something funny in his chest… it wasn’t like the high of drugs or liquor, but it felt just as addictive. It wasn’t like the adrenaline rush of a firefight or the rush during a show, but it made him feel just as excited and lightheaded.

He cleared his throat, trying to get his mind off of that feeling, and spoke, “Listen… all I’m saying… is that you’re not alone V. And although I don’t have much of a choice, whenever you need me…” he playfully smiled as his eyes met hers, “I’m always here for ya V.”

And that’s all it took.

In one moment to another, V wrapped her arms around his waist, knocking him on his ass from his previous kneeling position, and burying her head against his chest.

Despite sharing a head and body, somehow, someway, V always found a way to surprise him.

He groaned, the deep rumbles from his chest as he spoke making V settle in closer, anchoring herself to his presence.

“Fuck, V, a little warning next time would be nice.”

But even as he whined… he wasn’t complaining. Not when her sobs were beginning to fade, and she was instead chuckling at his expense in his arms. 

He ignored that funny feeling in his chest as his organic arm wraps itself against her body, his calloused hand rubbing circles against the small of her back, feeling her trembling begin to slow under his soft touch. Over time, her breathing began to even, and soon enough she was taking deep breaths as she recovered. 

Without even consciously doing so, Johnny’s metal hand found itself entwined with the strands of her hair, softly caressing as V’s eyes began to droop, and exhaustion began to overtake her body.

“V… it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I’m fine Johnny, I’m—“ a yawn interrupted her mid-sentence, “I’m not even tired.”

“And I’m not buying it.” He chuckled as his arm wrapped around her midsection.

“W-wait Johnny what are you— Johnny!” In an instant, V was thrown over his shoulder as he stood from the ground, and she gripped onto him in order to avoid falling to the floor.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking you to bed.” He chuckled as he felt her hand playfully slap against his shoulder.

“Fucking hell Johnny, a warning would be nice!” He could almost imagine her expression as he walked across the apartment, the way she would pout in exasperation.

“Just repaying the favor, that’s all.” He smirked as he reached her bed. Slowly setting her down from his shoulder onto the mattress below. 

“There. It’s time that you allowed yourself to get some rest, and not that weird shit you do where you sleep across the bed huddled in a little ball, but some actual sleep, under the covers and all.” 

“Fine, fine…” V slipped into a pair of nightclothes as Johnny had the decency to look away, and then slipped under the blankets, making herself comfortable. But before she drifted off to sleep, she called out, “Johnny?”

“... yeah?”

“I just— I just wanted to say thanks. Y’know, for tonight and all.”

“‘Course…” he stepped towards the bed once more as he spoke, “I mean, if I’m the one telling you that you need some rest, you probably fucked up somewhere along the way.”

“That’s true… judging from your memories, you’re terrible at following your own advice, Johnny.” She smiled at him, uncertain if the lack of sleep had made her delirious or if perhaps she was feeling particularly honest that night, but she spoke, “Y’know, if fucking up this badly was the catalyst for us to meet… I would do it all over again.”

He smiled sadly in return, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his cold metal hand brushing her cheek as he did so. An action to acknowledge the words between them were best left unspoken and unsaid— at least, for now.

“...Goodnight V.” He tore his gaze from her as he turned to walk away.

“Wait— Johnny!”

She grasped his metallic hand before he had the opportunity to pull away.

“... stay with me? Just for tonight?”

With her eyes looking up at him, her smaller hand clinging onto his, causing his breath to hitch and his heart to race—

How could he say no?

“Fine, but just for tonight. I can’t have you thinkin’ I’m goin’ soft or something.”

Johnny slipped under the covers, and without even needing to be asked, he wrapped his arms around V, and she rested her head against his chest in return.

“Get some rest, samurai… the city will still be there waiting for us when you awake.”

-

Thank ya kindly for reading! I'm always down for some constructive criticism and I love to read any lovely comments about my fics. Do let me know if there are any mistakes, I don't have a beta reader for Cyberpunk just yet, so a few mistakes may have gotten away from me!

And feel free to send in asks/requests! I'm so in love with Johnny and V and I can spend hours thinking and talking about them aaaaa

[dramaticsnakes]

The Revived - Chapter 9: Reconnecting

This is chapter 9 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Nihachu, Ghostbur

Word count: 2784

Cw: sleep problems, needle imagery, implied desire to get hurt, mentions of guilt, brief mentions of food/eating, discussions of violence, implied trust issues

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The minutes that followed were awkward to say the least. Niki had held onto Wilbur for a while, as if he would slip out of her grasp and dissolve into nothingness at any moment. She’d let Wilbur go free shortly after, and then she started staying at a distance, her eyes never quite leaving him. In a matter of minutes, she’d gone from yelling at him and punching him, to treating him like a fragile porcelain vase that would break the second she got too close. In a way, Wilbur wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“I’m sorry.” she’d repeated several times, quietly and broken, almost as if to mimic Ghostbur’s words that had echoed in Wilbur’s mind earlier, “Wilbur, I’m so so sorry.”

Wilbur had said it was okay, because really, Wilbur had expected punches far earlier, and perhaps it was about time.

He had the chance to look at his surroundings properly, now that he was no longer blindfolded. What had previously been stairs leading to an unknown place, and a lonely room he couldn’t see, now resembled something much grander. An underground area with high ceilings, and god knows how many different rooms. It was like an entire city, right underneath the ground, and Niki was walking through it so casually, looking at Wilbur instead of the impressive sights. “What is this place?” Wilbur asked quietly.

It took Niki a few moments to realize she’d even been asked a question. “Oh! It’s my secret city.”

Wilbur hummed. “Not so secret anymore. You led me right to it.” he said, trying to lighten the quiet mood. Niki just laughed awkwardly. “Did you build this?”

“Yeah. I did.” Niki said with a nod, “I originally made it to house refugees from the war, but… Well, now I just kind of live here on my own.”

“Really?” Wilbur said, looking at what looked like the beginning to a farm, “That’s… That’s a lot of space.” he tried to dig through his memories, “Didn’t you have a bakery?”

At that, Niki’s face turned pale again. She shook her head. “L’Manberg’s gone.”

“Oh.” Wilbur said, “Oh, right. Sorry, that was stupid.” he facepalmed, accidentally touching a bruise, and he heard Ghostbur wince. 

He must’ve winced too, because Niki gave him a concerned look. “You… I’m so sorry, but we should find a way to treat the bruises. I didn’t mean to- or well, I did mean to, but not to you, I…” she trailed off, and closed her eyes, as if her own words made her cringe.

“It’s okay.” Wilbur said, walking ahead.

“It’s not okay. I should’ve…” She shook her head, and took a deep breath. After a few moments of nothing but silence and the sound of their steps, she stopped walking. Wilbur looked back, confusedly. “Wilbur… How exactly are you back?”

Ah. Wilbur should’ve expected the question eventually. “Dream.” he said, “Dream revived me.”

A range of subtle emotions seemed to flow down Niki’s face in ripples. She swallowed something in her throat. “Oh.” she said, “That’s what they said happened with Tommy, I thought… I didn’t even think he was…” she looked at the ground for a moment, her eyes closed tightly. “But why would Dream- Are you… You were dead right?”

Wilbur scoffed. “What do you mean? Yeah I seemed pretty fucking dead to me.”

Niki started whispering to herself. “Wilbur died. He was killed by Phil. Dream revived him.” She repeated the words again, and looked up again, with a smile that looked performative at best. “Okay, I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yeah…” Wilbur attempted to shift the conversation, “Why did you stop threatening me? Like are you just gonna punch me again? I’ll understand if I look punchable, I’ve gotten that quite a lot.” Wilbur chuckled. He desperately hoped Niki wasn’t going to hurt him again, yet part of him still said it was going to happen. Part of him said Niki wasn’t going to let him leave alive.

Yet, Niki managed to prove him wrong when she spoke, “No, no I’m not-” She took a shaky breath. “I’m not going to do it- any of that again. I… I realized that you were actually you when… When you called me ‘Nix.’ You were the only person that called me that.” The words were fragile in a way that made it look like Niki’s eyes were watering. He might have been the one to wipe away Niki’s tears moments ago, but he couldn’t attempt to rub away the unshed ones.

“Niki are you oka-”

“You look tired.” Niki interrupted, the words sounding sharp, “Have you had some rest recently?”

Wilbur looked at Niki disbelievingly, “I mean, I was just passed out and tied up for some hours wasn’t I?”

Niki looked apologetic for a moment again, and Wilbur almost wished he hadn’t said that. “That’s not rest.” she proceeded to say, “You should… You can borrow a bed, and lie here for a while. It’s the least I can do.”

Wilbur caught a good look at Niki’s face again. He looked at the bags underneath her eyes, and the way she looked as if years had passed. For a moment, he pondered if perhaps Ranboo and Tubbo had lied to him, about how long Wilbur had been gone. He found himself doubting this was the same Niki, Wilbur last saw thirteen and a half years ago. “How long has it been since you last slept.” Wilbur asked, and it wasn’t meant to be spiteful. In fact, he was uncharacteristically concerned.

Niki’s expression hardly changed, as she simply blinked once. “Last night.” she said, and Wilbur had enough experience with her to know that it was a lie, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t feel as if he had the right.

Soon enough, Wilbur found himself sitting on a bed. She left the room with a promise that she’d return, and Wilbur suddenly felt exposed and off, as if he had been miscast in the role of someone who needed help, rather than whichever role he previously had. Not that he was confused about his previous role, because Wilbur had gone way too far by now, to qualify as a hero.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur whispered.

“Yeah, I’m here! Are you alone?” Ghostbur asked.

“Yes. You went quiet for a while.” Wilbur said.

“Oh, did I? Sorry. I love talking, but you usually don’t like it when I talk while you talk to others.”

In a sense, Ghostbur wasn’t wrong. Wilbur had expressed little but distaste towards it, or he’d ignored it completely, because really he had to. It wasn’t as if this was something he could explain, when people were baffled at the revival alone. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to explain. While people held tension and disdain whenever it came to Wilbur, people held everything from fondness to mild annoyance with Ghostbur. Wilbur wasn’t an idiot. Ghostbur was so inextricably good and happy, and those were two things Wilbur had little to nothing of. There was a little part of Wilbur, however small, that felt as if people would rush to get Ghostbur back from the place in limbo he had done nothing to deserve, even at the cost of Wilbur. 

Of course he shouldn’t want Ghostbur to talk all the time. Ghostbur was annoying. Wilbur knew that. For so long, he’d had to face that fact. And yet, Wilbur still found himself saddened at Ghostbur’s words, because a ridiculous part of Wilbur insisted that the silence was worse. That the light echo-y tone, was keeping Wilbur just above the surface of the ocean, that otherwise wouldn’t hesitate to suffocate him.

Wilbur’s time in limbo must’ve done quite a number on him, for him to think such things.

“You can talk if you have something to say.” Wilbur said quietly, “I won’t always be able to respond, but you can talk.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur said, sounding a little uncertain, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. You can do what you want, you know. Not like anyone can stop you in there.” Wilbur said, but he regretted the words as soon as he said them, because they were met with the sound of a harsh inhale. Wilbur took a deep breath, closed his eyes, trying to collect his words. “I’m sorry it’s… How are you feeling there? I left you alone for a… For a while.”

“I’m fine, I think.” Ghostbur said, his cheerful tone apparent, but the words ambivalent. “I-I don’t think I like this place very much though.”

Wilbur nodded to himself, feeling his heart drop slightly. “Yeah, I get that. It’s very quiet and enclosed.” he bit his lip, almost hard enough to taste the blood within.

“It’s okay!” Ghostbur said, “I’ll probably forget it soon anyway. You’re here now.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” Wilbur said, and perhaps the idea that Ghostbur would possibly forget soon enough should’ve been a relief, yet there was something strangely dishonest about the way the memories worked. In a sense, Wilbur related to the way memories seemed out of reach. To the way, certain parts of one's life were muddled. He carried just a bit of sympathy for the ghost, and the way he, despite everything, held on, through the vague fog of remembrance. 

“And you have to sleep sometimes! The living do that when they get tired.” Ghostbur said affirmingly.

“That’s true.” Wilbur said, a small smile on his face as he chuckled. After a moment of silence he added, “Hang in there.” because perhaps he was still cruel enough, to let the ghost fall into the illusion that it was temporary. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. 

But Wilbur had gone way too far, to qualify as a hero anyway.

Just then, Niki entered the room. She was smiling, though it seemed practiced. She was holding a plate with a pastry that was probably homemade. In her other hand, she held a glass of water. Wilbur realized that his throat was a little dry, as he laid his eyes upon it. “I had this. Are you hungry?”

Once again, Wilbur felt miscast as a victim. “Yes.” he said begrudgingly, and Niki approached, placing the plate on a table next to Wilbur. “Still baking without the bakery?” he asked.

Niki looked a little surprised at the question. “Oh, yeah! I uh- I am now.”

Wilbur nodded, feeling that the response was a bit strained and off, though he didn’t find it in himself to comment on it. “How long have you been staying here?” he asked.

“A while.” Niki said, “A couple of months, I think.”

Wilbur hesitated. “Alone?” he asked.

Niki turned visibly uncomfortable at the question. “Yeah.” she said, “Or well, I’ve had visitors sometimes.”

Wilbur wasn’t sure what he’d imagined the world to be like, after he died. Perhaps a part of him had expected a bustling community, with Niki standing tall as ever. With her smiling while trying out a new recipe. Maybe with Tommy front and center, with Tubbo by his side. Everything continuing on, as if death led to blooming rather than decay.

And perhaps another, much more selfish part of him, had expected the world to die along with him. For everything to fall to the ground along with L’Manberg, until there was nothing but a crater in the ground.

Neither of those seemed to be the case. Though sometimes, expectations had to be set aside, in order to keep a goal clear.

He took a bite of the pastry, familiar flavours filling his mouth. “Oh. This is delicious!” he said, “Prime I haven’t tasted cake at all in forever.”

Niki giggled, and for a moment everything felt normal. Wilbur wasn’t sure what normal meant at all, but it was as if no time had passed. The sound of the giggle seemed like a gateway through the past, and their voices seemed to blend comfortably, as they went on to make some more awkward conversation. 

Apparently Techno had gone as far as to make an anarchist group, though Niki didn’t go into much details of its members, or whether they’d even done anything noteworthy. She mentioned a couple of new faces, and briefly went into how Dream was in prison. Pandora’s box. Wilbur knew of it. He vaguely remembered the huge building, and he remembered vague dread that didn’t come from his own memories. Ghostbur’s breathing turned shakier at the mention, though they quickly moved on from the subject.

Wilbur noticed however, that whenever the subject of L’Manberg was brought up, Niki’s tone had a sharper edge to it. Her words became quicker and harsher, as if the topic itself stuck needles into her chest, that made her hiss, as if she was catching breath. “Did you miss me?” Wilbur asked at one point.

“Of course I did.” Niki said, her voice turning a little softer.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“Of course I am.” Niki said, and she grasped her mouth once she realized she’d said it. She shook her head. “No! It’s not that bad, it’s just… You’re back now, it’s fine.” 

“I destroyed it all, didn’t I?” Wilbur asked, though it wasn’t a real question. He chuckled, “I destroyed your home. I destroyed everyone’s home.”

“Stop.” Niki said, “It’s over now. The memories are gone and-”

“And I did that!” Wilbur said, with a slight smile.

“Stop.” Ghostbur suddenly said.

“And I’m sorry.” Wilbur added, “I’m sorry I did that, but you should be mad at me anyhow.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be mad at you Wilbur!” Niki said, a little desperation in her voice. She suddenly took his hand, and looked him in the eyes. “You left. You were gone, and now you’re back. I lost you Wilbur. We all did. And you betrayed everything you used to stand for.” She said harshly, “But I don’t want to be mad at you. Everyone here has done bad things, and you’re not the only one who has left in one way or another. Betrayals happen all the time, and now you’re here. I’m here, and I’m not a part of any of it up there, so it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.”

Wilbur sat in silence for a moment, feeling the heat of Niki’s hand on his, that felt all at once comforting and overwhelming. It shouldn’t be there. At most, it should’ve been punching Wilbur again, because the more he thought about everything, the more he hoped someone would take this all out on him. At least it would make him feel alive rather than confused. He wondered exactly when Niki’s outlook became so somber, and he couldn’t help but feel that he perhaps had played a part. The words hadn’t even seemed planned out, and while Wilbur didn’t doubt that they were truthful, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was more truth to be uncovered. “Okay.” he just said, because what the hell was he supposed to say, with Niki looking at him, as if this was the last second he’d spend within her sight?

“It does matter.” Ghostbur said, “There’s a lot going on, but everyone deserves to be happy. That’s important.”

Wilbur wasn’t sure if the sentiment broke his heart or poorly repaired it with some blue duct tape. “I’m sorry, Niki. For what I did.”

“Thank you, Wilbur.” Niki just said, she smiled slightly, though Wilbur wasn’t sure if his apology had gotten through. “Get some rest, alright? You still look exhausted.”

“I can talk a lil’ bit longer,” Wilbur yawned after saying the words. He caused so much pain to Niki that he wanted to at least talk for a few minutes more. Perhaps make those minutes count more than the ones in his past lives. Cherish the moment in a way.

But Niki only looked sympathetically at him. The pity, saying more than she ever could, “Can and should are two different things, Wil.”

“Aww,” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll rephrase that. I should stay up a bit longer.”

Niki sighed in a way that could have been considered a melancholic laugh, “You really shouldn’t.” The words were quiet, genuine concern showing through them.

With the waves of exhaustion washing over Wilbur, he laid back in the bed. Although the pillow wasn’t very soft, he leaned into it gratefully, his eyes closing along the way.

“Good night, Wilbur.” Niki sat up from the bed, pulling the blanket slightly more over Wilbur. A small smile came across Wilbur’s face. He thought about returning the good night back to her, but he already fell into a dreamless sleep.

[satoshi-mochida]

Tobyfox has provided a status update on the second chapter and beyond of Undertale sequel Deltarune in celebration of Undertale‘s fifth anniversary today.

First, here are the latest screenshots from Deltarune‘s second chapter:

Get the full update below.

Introduction

Hi everyone.

If you’re reading this, you must have been sticking around for about five years.*

I want to express my gratitude for everyone that has supported and encouraged me over this time.

Thank you.

I’ve said it many many times before, but I didn’t expect the simple game I made to receive so much attention. Because of that, many interesting things have happened, and now I can even spend my time making another game.

It seems both of us received a lot of happiness from this occurrence.

If it’s okay, I would like to keep striving to do things that make both of us happy.

Let me know what you think about that.

*Since the Undertale demo released in 2013, the game has really existed for 7 years. It’s already been more than 25% of my life…

Deltarune

I will make another.

I am making a game called “Deltarune.” It is the second game in the Undertale series.

The game will be released in many “Chapters,” the first of which I released two years ago on Halloween. Since that time, I’ve been working hard to figure out the rest of the game.

However, it’s a game that’s much harder to make than Undertale.

Graphics are more complicated and several times more involved.

Systems are more complicated.

Exposes the weak points of my creative and artistic ability.

Plot is much harder to tie together (more characters, more important locations).

Significantly more content than Undertale in one playthrough (especially cutscenes).

I have only made one game ever.

Unlike Undertale, this is the type of game that would normally have many designers working on each aspect of the game.

A story writer, a composer, an audio director, a map designer, a battle designer, a minigame designer, and an overall director. Instead, all of those roles end up handled by me.

The good news is that a few months ago, I completed a significant milestone regarding the game’s design. I completed readable outlines for every chapter in the game, including first-pass dialogue for almost all the cutscenes, examples of the music, etc.

Although certain details are still hazy, the flow of the game and all major events and battles that take place are now clear.

In summary, I largely spent the past two years writing, composing, designing, and drawing. However, that’s not the whole story.

We had actually attempted to develop the game since the time too. Development started around March 2019 and a 99% work was spent on investigating engines alternate to GameMaker, which I used for Chapter 1.

Without getting into the details, I decided a few months ago to go back to GameMaker after all. It still felt like the best fit for the project. So using Chapter 1 as a base, we’ve started creating Chapter 2 since May 2020.

A lot of progress has been made since that time. I believe we can complete this chapter, content-wise, before the end of the year (not accounting for translation, bugtesting, and porting).

I feel very confident. And the strange thing is, even though we ended up using the original engine, I don’t regret the lost time, either. Not only was I still busy designing the game, but during that long period, I was able to think of many ideas that make the game’s story and characters better.

I’m glad that I’m making the Deltarune that I have now and that we are making healthy progress.

Deltarune Status Estimate

■ Chapter 2 (04.15.20 – 08.13.20)

Phase 1: Design

Main Design: 100% (dialogue, etc.)

Initial Setup: 100% (stuff involved setting up people to make the game, adding debug tools, documentation, etc.)

Phase 2: Implementation (05.01.20 ~ 08.13.20)

Art: 90%

Cutscenes: 80% (90% are started, needs 2nd pass)

Bullet Patterns: 70% (enemies are mostly completed, bosses are about 40% done, needs 2nd pass)

Non-Bullet Battle Elements: 30% (Some ACTs are done and enemies are fightable, but interactive ACTs need to be completed and polished and the bosses aren’t programmed outside of bullet patterns)

Audio: 80%

Maps: ??% most are started or placeholder, most need 2nd pass. NPC interactions are completed in all spots where written.

Other: 65%

Phase 3: Finishing

Balancing: 0%

Bugfixing: 0%

Translation: 0%

Porting: 0%

(Honestly, a lot of stuff FEELS like 80% to me, but the truth is that what’s there is quite rough now. Polish ends up taking a lot of time, so the real actual time value may be around 50% done…? We’ll see what happens. It’ll be a lesson for everybody.)

■ Chapters 3 and Beyond

Phase 1: Design

Story and General Game Progression (first-pass): 100%

Cutscene Dialogue (first-pass, lacking cutscene instructions): 95%

Map Design (textual): 70% (varies per chapter, earlier chapters totally completed)

Map Design (drawn): 0% (this takes a lot of wrist energy so I don’t do it until we start programming)

Enemy Design (conceptual): 90% (all bosses are known)

Enemy Design (bullets / visual): 80% (varies per chapter, earlier chapters totally completed)

Music (concept): 95%

Music (completed): 50%

Visual Design:BG Concept (first-pass): 75%, Important Character, Bosses (first-pass): 100%

Phase 2

Sprite Art: 20%?

Other Content Creation: 0%

Phase 3

Release Readiness: 0%

(These numbers can be somewhat deceptive though. My true design style is to reach the moment where we have to make something, then suddenly think of something different at the last minute. This is always how it’s been with me and my work. It feels like no matter how much I plan, everything comes down to what I think of at the last second…)

Team and Disability

You may have noticed from my phrasing, but yes, there is a team helping me create the game. Other than me, there are about three active team members working day-to-day, with a few other people pitching in from time to time.

Their roles of the main members are overall content implementation and organization, bullet pattern implementation (part-time), and art (Temmie). Other than designing, I still have the role of system programmer.

I’m extremely grateful to have a team helping me carry out my design especially because of my disabilities, which have also made development more difficult.

Although I have long suffered from wrist and hand pain, about five months ago my wrist was the worst it’s ever been. I could not play the piano, use the mouse, and barely could use the keyboard. I navigated everything through voice to text.

Through weightlifting, exercise, and various equipment I have been able to somewhat increase the stamina of my wrist to an extent. Various solutions have included trackball mice for each hand, using voice to text whenever possible, using a foot pedal to click the mouse, etc.

Now I can use the mouse and keyboard for a certain amount each day provided I take frequent breaks. I wish I could work without stopping. Once the world situation improves I would really like to take physical therapy again and/or investigate surgery to repair my wrist.

Future Plans

Once we finish Chapter 2, I would like to use it as the base to create future chapters from. After gaining experience from this chapter, I think making future chapters will be easier.

Part of me wonders if we could make the game faster if we increased the size of the team and did something insane like create multiple chapters in parallel. However, another part of me understands that, adding more people doesn’t guarantee that the game will be created faster if it’s not done properly. I’m already just barely avoiding becoming a bottleneck on development even with a team of this size, due to my physical limitations.

To that end, I am interested in making a list of people that could potentially help me make the game. I’m not 100% sure if I’m going to ask anyone to help, but I think if I could find just 1 person that works well with me, it’s worth asking.

Chapter 2 is proceeding at a good pace, so if we do take anyone on, it will probably only be for Chapter 3 onward. So please understand that anything you send in may not have an immediate result.

People I Am Looking For

Feel free to send in your portfolio if you have the following qualifications:

Worked in the game industry before

Worked under NDA before

Have professional references

A degree of creativity while also being okay with just following directions

Fluent in English

People I Might Actually Use

Music Transcription / Basic Arrangement (Part-Time)

I usually start making songs by playing the piano and singing. An important step after this is to take this basic outline and transcribe it into melodies and chords. Though there are not too many remaining songs to transcribe, it would still help my wrist to have someone else start this process for me. Although I know many musicians, I’m sheepish to ask for help to them, because the main role is actually just to help me compose my own music…

Helpful qualities:

Good at transcription.

Can stand listening to me sing.

Optional: can use an old version of Fruity Loops.

Bullet Pattern Programming (Part-Time)

I’m looking for someone to help me program bullet patterns into the game. These people will work from text and visual designs to create fun battles that match the feeling of the game. I already have one person helping with this, but I think a second person would help a lot. You have to be able to use Gamemaker Studio 2 to manipulate objects on the screen / okay with using pre-existing scripts to accomplish this.

Helpful qualities:

Sense of fun and understanding of player perspective and gameplay balance. This aspect is [many times] more important than programming ability.

Reliable.

Able to make patterns based off of visual/text instructions.

Fine working with a poorly made battle system.

Able to sprite bullets.

Good visual / timing sense.

Minigame Programming (Part-Time)

There are a few minigames and small interactive events in the game, which appear in and outside of battles. These could take any kind of form… who knows what I’m thinking! Have you made a game before?

Helpful qualities:

Same sense of humor as me.

Some level of spriting ability is useful.

You have to have made a game that is fun.

Ability to work together with me.

Unlikely to Hire, But Send Me Your Information Just In Case

Cutscene Programming (Part-Time)

Besides the battles, the largest amount of content in the game is definitely the cut scenes. You will have to understand Gamemaker Studio 2, but the majority of the work is simply using a scripting system that I created to make characters move around the screen. The most important quality you can have here is not programming ability but the ability to efficiently use the system in order to create scenes with a good sense of humor, timing, and emotion.

I’d strongly prefer to hire someone I know to do this because it involves the story. So I most likely won’t hire anyone else.

Helpful qualities:

Can take text instructions and impart a proper sense of timing, humor, and weight to them.

Fine working with a custom scripting system (or smart enough to make something better that makes the game easier to make).

Art (Part-Time)

Sprite art—Temmie has already drawn a massive amount of art for the game, and continues to do so. And I actually already have a few other artists that have helped me that I’m more than happy to keep working with if things become more overwhelming. So currently I actually don’t need any more artists.

However, personally, I’d really like to build up a portfolio of available pixel artists and even concept artists. It’s not as if this is the only game I will make during my life. Anyone chosen for this game needs to be able to match the style of the game, but I’m interested in seeing people with different styles as well. Knowing that I have different options can open my mind up to different creative pathways.

Helpful qualities:

Can take bad looking sketches and turn them into art that looks good (magic).

Don’t mind if your work gets completely drawn over or thrown out.

Anyone that can draw cute or cool poses is good.

Uninterested in seeing people that have an art style outside of the scope of the game.

Write (Full-Time)

Someone needs to transform into a new wrist for me.

Helpful qualities:

Flexible.

Doesn’t hurt.

Musical sense.

That’s everyone I’m looking for. The only other kind of person I might hire would be a single jack-of-all-trades type that can do any sort of things such as cutscenes, bullets, or even system programming, with a good degree of visual flair. (But if you can do those sorts of things, aren’t you busy making your own game already!?)

Anyway, I’ll show you the e-mail now. Just make sure you read these rules first:

Don’t send in e-mails about anything else!

Don’t send to other team members, Fangamer, etc. about helping out!

Got it? Then please send your information to this e-mail address:

deltarunejobs@fangamer.com

Since Fangamer will be sorting through the e-mails for me, we’ll stop taking e-mails at the end of September so they don’t get overwhelmed. Ultimately, I’m only looking for one or two people, and to make a list of the rest of the potentially helpful people in the world.

Undertale is available now for PlayStation 4, Switch, PS Vita, and PC via Steam and GOG. Deltarune Chapter 1 is availble for PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Deltarune.com.

[queenangst]

37 and 40 for the ask game? :D

37. how do you deal with writer’s block?

the first step is figuring out why i have writer’s block. only then can you address it properly. is it because of me, or because of the story?

there’s a number of reasons why a person might have writer’s block that is not directly related to your work. for example, if you’re dealing with stress from your job or academics, this stress might make it difficult for you to write, too. maybe you feel ‘stagnant,’ which might be fixed by changing something around you in your environment. maybe it’s related even to something physical, like pain. 

another aspect is that writing is not just writing. writing also encompasses idea generating, reading, planning, etc. issues that relate to other aspects of writing besides just writing should also be addressed and not overlooked; maybe you need to go watch a show to get the creative juices flowing, or go Do Something Else that will contribute to your mental library. 

if the writer’s block is stemming from my story, then i figure out what in particular is getting me stuck. maybe it’s a conversation between two characters and dialogue that doesn’t feel natural, and needs reworking before you can keep writing. maybe it’s because you’re worried you don’t know what happens next. maybe it’s because something you wrote half a scene ago that is catching up to you. for this, i generally try to address the problem by revisiting the certain story point that is causing me trouble. 

there’s also burnout. you wrote too much. you put too much pressure on yourself to create. it’s okay to take breaks.

sometimes it’s also hesitation about starting. our brains are like that sometimes: we don’t like starting. in those cases i like to do “writing sprints,” (or word wars) which i’ve talked about many times before, but you basically write as much as you can in a certain amount of time. this time limit can give you the motivation you need to just get something down without overthinking it.

sometimes i will turn to other people for help if i feel i’m not getting anywhere. talking to a friend who’s willing to listen to you ramble extensively and bounce ideas about a single event in a story can be really helpful: whether just explaining to someone rather than yourself, or having them provide feedback and insight. it’s also good to ask for help or advice with mental blocks.

and when in doubt? relax, by yourself. writer’s block is a stressful thing. why do we come up with good ideas in the shower? because we’re relaxed and in a routine, or doing something monotonous. while you’re on autopilot, it leaves your brain free to think about ideas. a little bit of distraction and relaxation. anything similar can be of great help, too, like taking a walk.

40. how often do you write?

ideally, once a day. this does not happen. for the most part i have some sort of writing session a week. 

right now i’m really busy academically (yes, i know, i’m doing this ask game, i can’t be that busy) (i promise you i am, but i’m letting myself answer asks in between working on an assignment) so i’ve limited my time writing. 

fanfic/writing asks

[boukenboy]

#13: 月影の鎖 -錯乱パラノイア- / Getsuei No Kusari - Sakuran Paranoia -

Released in April of 2013, Getsuei no Kusari ~ Sakuran Paranoia ~ is an otome game for the PSP. Developed and published by TAKUYO, GnS is a sprawling, massive tale about the struggles of a small town facing economic decline, xenophobia, taxation, and despair. There’s also a bit of romance, too. As a treat.

Set in the isle of Sangetsutou, a small island far from the mainland, we play as Fuyuura Megumi, who runs a small restaurant in the island’s only city, Koukashi. Megumi is an excellent protagonist - she’s kind, polite, and very hard-working, but has trouble opening up and asking others for help. Relatable. 

But all is not well in this seemingly peaceful town. A massive fire devastated Koukashi a year before the game began, and the town has faced economic issues since. Once known as a tourist destination due to its pleasure quarter and hot springs, the amount of visitors to Sangetsutou has decreased significantly. Faced with economic depression, the town’s unnamed mayor hires a mysterious consultant, Fukami, who offers the town a simple solution: turn the town into a military base. By doing so, Koukashi would not only receive money from the federal government, but businesses, too, would benefit from the presence of soldiers visiting the island and spending their coin. But the majority of the citizens are opposed to this proposal: why should their way of life have to change? Who will really benefit? Is there any other way? What would happen should the country go to war? 

Chief among those opposed to the garrison is Kagurazaka Hibiki, leader of the town’s youth activism group and local hero. Originally a traveler, he happened to be in Sangetsutou during the great fire of last year, and is renowned for stepping in and organizing the rescue and extinguishing movements when the town’s government failed to respond adequately. He is well-educated, stoic but likable, and the town has developed a dependency on him to set things right, for better or worse. Working directly underneath him is Mochizuki Satoya, a diligent youth, who grew up in the pleasure quarters, working as an assistant to the brothels there.  Like Kagurazaka, he cares deeply for the townspeople, though he struggles with envy, as he feels he does not have the ability to lead others as Hibiki does. He’s also short. He doesn’t like that, either. 

Rounding out the cast, we have Inoguchi Wataru and Haruna Nozomu. Wataru works for the military, and I assume he is involved with the militarization of the town, but beyond that, I’m not sure, as I have yet to do his route. Nozomu is initially silent about his motives, but it is eventually revealed that he works for Fukami, but this cynical blue-haired jokester isn’t especially loyal to this colonizer of a boss.

 Unlike other otome games, or at least those that I have played personally, GnK isn’t entirely focused on romance - rather, this is a story of a small town trying to cope with economic struggles, with interpersonal drama sprinkled in throughout each route. Each story-path features Megumi siding with a particular faction within Koukashi: for example, you’ll become a member of Kagurazaka’s activism group in his story-line, while in Mochizuki’s, you’ll spend a great deal of time getting to know the women that make their living as prostitutes in the pleasure quarter. Should you choose Haruna, you’ll spend a brief time working the game’s “villain” of sorts - and if you couldn't guess who that is, it’s Fukami. The world of GnK is a morally grey one - each character is extensively developed, complete with many long, long monologues, both spoken and thought, and you’ll gradually discovery why each character does the things they do, even if you don’t agree with their reasoning. The game respects your intelligence in this respect, and the writers are not afraid to discuss serious issues. This is easily the most “mature” otome game I have played. GnK tackles subjects like xenophobia, racism, economic scarcity, suicide, rape, and the validity of the sex work. Furthermore, this is by far some of the most challenging material I’ve ever read as a non-native speaker of Japanese. This game will break your back if you’re not at a certain level of fluency, but I personally loved the complexity of the text. As somebody who has studied the language extensively, I sometimes feel as though my abilities have plateaued in a sense - almost as if I can’t get any better than my current level. GnK wound up being a rewarding experience solely in that sense - but make sure you keep a dictionary on hand!

The story, for the most part, is very slow-paced and there’s not much “drama” until the latter half of the game. GnK is a slow-burner, which naturally allows for more opportunities to really explore its characters. However, this does not mean that there’s no filler - there is an absolutely absurd amount of text that I felt could have been left in editing without affecting the story. Do we really need to have multiple paragraphs of Megumi describing, at length, the process of preparing tea every time somebody orders it? I understand that this is a visual novel, so shouldn’t the principle of “show, don’t tell” apply even more in this respect?

The game is a bit obtuse when it comes to unlocking routes, as well. On my first play-through, I answered each prompt as I would in real life, as I typically do in games of this type, curious to see who I wound end up with in a natural flow of things. This was a stupid idea in hindsight, because GnK has a number of bad endings lurking to sink an unsuspecting gamer. I would up unlocking nobody, and my game ended after only a few hours. Upon reading a guide, I was a little annoyed by how strict the game expects you to be in regards to following each route - but in its defense, GnK does provide an excellent auto-save feature. I was just too dumb to utilize it properly.

Each protagonist has two “main” endings, and as mentioned above, a small handful of bad ones. Which proper ending you unlock depends on how high the “love” and “dependent” your man of choice has for you. Being self-less, strong willed, and honest tends to raise the “love” meter, while doing the opposite raises the “dependency” level, but it, of course, depends on the character. 

The love endings are full of the schmaltz you’d expect from a game of this type, though slightly elevated thanks to the high quality of the writers at Takuyo. The dependency endings, on the other hand, are absolutely wild, and genuinely disturbing - you’ll experience the exquisite pleasure of burning together in the pleasure quarter, or, conversely, know what it’s like to strangle another human being after you’ve lost your marbles due to experiencing the same trauma your birth-mother went through! They are the definition of extra, and as a whole, felt way way more fulfilling and unique compared to the happier endings.

I wish the game had actual split routes for the two ending types, however, as seeing a healthy-ish relationship crumble within a span of minutes felt a little jarring to me, personally. That being said, if you only have time for one ending, go for the dark ones, as they really pack that molasses-drenched punch.

I love when a game manages to truly surprise me, and GnK did that. The plot, grounded and realistic, free from paranormal influences or deus-ex-machina bullshit, felt super fresh compared to many games in the same genre, and the depth of text kept me challenged and entertained. Each route will take about 10 hours - so it’s well worth trying out! Stay safe out there, and happy gaming! 

[aelaer]

Whumptober 10: Unconscious

This scenario has been written before and written better than this (a story by phierie immediately comes to mind) but I figured that people like two cakes more than one; even if this cake is subpar in comparison, it's still cake. And it fills three prompt fills for me, so hah. Let the people eat cake. For Whumptober Day 10, @badthingshappenbingo Outnumbered in a Fight, and @stephenstrangebingo Power With a Price. Cards at the end.

Not Endgame compliant because the year thing always screws me up. And too many dead heroes.

Fandom: MCU / Doctor Strange Characters: Stephen, Wong, Tony, Sam, Scott, Hope, and a guy from the tie-in comic book who's totally played by Rupert Graves here. Warnings: Nothing beyond your usual magical battlefield shenanigans.

——— 

It was during Stephen's first months in Kamar-Taj when he learned that if a being gave their word while in the presence of a certain sigil, they were bound by their oath. If they broke it, it genuinely would mean their destruction.

At the time, he knew the sigil worked with demonic entities, but had no idea if it worked with dimension-eaters composed of pure energy like Dormammu. Still, it became one of many spells that he practiced thousands of times while stuck in the time loop. After all, if he was going to make a bargain with the ruler of the Dark Dimension, he might as well try everything in his power to make it stick.

Luckily for him, the sigil seemed to work quite well with Dormammu, and the Dark Dimension remained away from their reality.

At least, until today.

The multiverse was a funny thing. For reasons that still remained unknown to Kamar-Taj, small rifts in the fabric of reality naturally appeared across the universe all the time. In the vacuum of space they repaired themselves all but instantly. On planets or moons with any sort of atmosphere, they lingered a bit longer; and on planets that had the same nitrogen- and oxygen-based atmosphere that supported carbon-based lifeforms, they could linger long enough to cause an issue.

According to a sorcerer about three hundred years ago that was especially fond of numbers, statistics, and probability, it was about a two percent chance of a naturally-occurring rift to grow large enough to need a sorcerer to manually close it. Of this two percent, there was a half-percent chance of a sentient being coming through the rift, and another ten percent of that half percent of that two percent that said sentient being would be hostile.

And that was just the type of day Stephen was having.

It turned out that one of Earth's natural rifts, located in The Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire, had exploded in size overnight. It also turned out that it just so happened to be a rift to the Dark Dimension. If it weren't so obviously a natural rift, Stephen would suspect Dormammu's hand in its creation.

But Dormammu kept his part of the bargain and was nowhere near the rift. Unfortunately, it seemed he may have possibly found a loophole in the binding oath that kept him to its literal word, but allowed him to toe about its intended spirit.

After his first (and hopefully only) encounter with Dormammu, Stephen had taken the time to read more about what was known about the Dark Dimension; that's when he first heard about the Mindless Ones. Whether they were originally beings of a universe Dormammu had consumed or natural denizens of his dimension was unknown, but it turned out that they managed to survive in the Dark Dimension in a way that most life did not, to the point that they were potentially a nuisance to its lord. 

These Mindless Ones were named for what they were: from Earth's last encounter with them over four hundred years ago, they were described as golem-like creatures made of hard stone, about nine feet tall, lacking true sentience, seeming impervious to pain, and fully focused on destroying anything within their path. They were also described as having the ability to break a sorcerer's usual spells for shields and restraints, making them near impossible to contain and necessitating their destruction when they last came to Earth.

With how rapidly this rift had opened, Stephen suspected that while Dormammu had no hand in its creation, he very likely had drawn these Mindless Ones to it so that they might tear at it until they could slip through.

And Stephen was sure Dormammu was monitoring their progress from afar. Bastard.

With a dimensional rift such as this one, they could not conceal the battle within the Mirror Dimension, leaving them in the open fields of New Hampshire doing their best to cull the tide while making some headway into sealing the rift.

And their efforts weren't cutting it.

"We need to close the rift to have any hope of surviving this!" one of the masters shouted over the noise of battle.

"What do you think we're trying to do?" Master Grem of the London Sanctum shouted back. "We keep getting interrupted!"

Stephen had tried floating high above the Mindless Ones to work solely on sealing the rift, but it turned out that they had no issue tearing into the ground and throwing it up at him, both interrupting him and causing dangerous conditions for the other sorcerers present. So for now he worked painstakingly slow with Grem in between attacks their way even as the others did what they could to shield them when their usual shields were all but useless.

"Looks like we have reinforcements," Wong said.

Stephen looked up and he saw Iron Man and the Falcon fly in. He quickly took out the communicator the Avengers had given him a while back and jammed it into his ear. "Who's here?"

"Me, Wilson, Lang, van Dyne," Tony cited as he blasted one of creatures. It faltered, but remained upright.

"What are these things?" Scott asked.

"Mindless Ones," Stephen managed before he needed to fully concentrate to repel two of them so they did not end up smashing him into the ground. When he caught a break, he could see the four of them already in the thick of it. "Not from around here."

"Figured out that much, Doc!" Sam retorted through the earpiece.

"We don't want them getting beyond us," the sorcerer added as he avoided another one. "And they're getting harder to contain."

"I'll scout the perimeter, make sure none of them got loose," Hope said.

Even with the addition of the four Avengers, which helped cull their numbers to keep the fight manageable, the rift was ever growing and both he and Grem were unable to concentrate long enough to get any sort of meaningful process with closing it. And with every passing minute it grew larger and the number of Mindless Ones coming at a time steadily grew.

This needed to end, now. And he had a theory as how to accomplish that, but it was not something he had ever had the chance to try before.

Now was as good a time as any.

"Tony, Sam, I need you to cover me," he said as he began to ascend.

"Copy," Sam answered.

"Got it," said Tony. "Do they have projectiles?" The two of them were entirely too fast for the Mindless Ones to properly see in the sky, never mind throw things at.

Stephen, however, would be a sitting duck. He flew up to the largest part of the rift, answering, "If the ground counts as one, then yes." He then blocked out the rest of the world about him and concentrated.

Sorcerers gained their powers from other realities and planes of existence within the multiverse. These powers varied in both the strength they gave the sorcerer and the strain they placed upon their body, but generally speaking, the greater the source of power, the more it demanded upon the physical form. This cosmic balancing act made it so only those with the most determination and willpower could draw upon the most powerful of magics.

And Stephen was as stubborn as they came.

Drawing power from the Dark Dimension was considered foolhardy at its best and breaking natural law at its worst due to both what it did to the human body in the long term and the very dangerous possibility of giving Dormammu a gateway into their dimension. The Ancient One was powerful enough to block any of his attempts, while Kaecilius and his followers were, of course, attempting to prop the gates wide open. Neither of them, however, had ever considered one-time use directly from the source.

And he had the source staring right back at him. So he set himself to gather power from the multidimensional energy about them and began to pull from the direction of the rift.

At first, it didn't hurt; it was rather uncomfortable, if he had to place a word on it, like putting on clothing one or two sizes too small. More importantly, as he began to weave the energies of the Dark Dimension upon the edges of the rift to close it, it held much longer than their attempts before. But in order to close it fast enough against the Mindless Ones' constant damage, he had to increase the rate he drew in power and quicken his spell by threefold, at the least.

So he did. And as he continued to draw in more and more energy, he completely lost sight of the world about him. The uncomfortable feeling turned into a tighter and more painful sensation, but Stephen was well used to pain and knew how to endure it for necessity's sake. He pressed on, keeping a tight hold of the spell and refusing to let go as he kept the flow of energy continuous.

He started drawing upon the Cloak's innate magic as his began to falter; they were nearing the largest part of the rift and the Mindless Ones were tearing at its walls and fighting back. This was not a fight that could be won via endurance, not against their endless numbers; it had to be closed now. With that thought, Stephen drew upon the depths of his own inner power, supported by the Cloak's magic, and sucked the multidimensional energy out of the air in one last great spell to seal the rift in one swift move, to seal it more like a zipper than the stitching he was performing before.

The pain was excruciating. Stephen's vision went dark and he felt the rush of air about him as he passed out.

———— 

"What the hell is Strange doing?" Grem asked after destroying another Mindless One. There seemed to be no end to them.

Wong frowned. "Likely something ill-advised. It seems he at least has some cover from the Avengers." They could not dedicate a sorcerer to just serve a helping shield for Stephen; there were still too many on the ground and not enough sorcerers to defend someone in that position.

"I guess that's an improvement for him!" the other master retorted, then threw himself back into the fray.

Above, Tony blasted a projectile of rocky ground into smithereens before it could hit Stephen. He frowned at the sorcerer who, from what he could see, wasn't actually doing anything but a few gestures. "Whatever you're trying to do, you better hurry it up," he mumbled to himself.

A few minutes later, Scott said over the comm, "I think the rift's shrinking!"

Tony turned to look and he was too close to get a good eye on it. "What do you think, Sam?"

"I think Scott's right; it's starting to get smaller."

"It needs to shrink a bit faster if we want to stop these things!" Hope said, and Tony couldn't help but agree as he blasted another two of them several times until they finally crumbled. These guys were tough and even he was starting to lose firepower. And from what he could see, the people on the ground could only last for so long.

Another couple minutes of fighting passed before something that sounded like the world's loudest suction cup echoed through the area. As the sound ended, the only Mindless Ones in sight were the ones still on Earth's ground; the rift to the Dark Dimension was sealed closed.

And Stephen was falling from the sky.

"Shit!" Tony said as he raced towards him, but he was too far— 

Sam swooped in and caught him at about fifty feet. He grunted over the comm, but managed a, "Got him."

"Is he okay?" Scott asked.

"He's breathing. No idea what's up with the cloak, though."

"Less talking, more finishing these things off!" Hope interrupted them, and she was right; there were still plenty of these alien rock things on the ground that needed to be killed, so Tony covered Sam and Stephen as he blasted the so-called Mindless Ones from his place in the air.

Some fifteen minutes later, the last of the Mindless Ones were dead and Tony descended with Sam, Stephen still unconscious within his arms. He carefully set the sorcerer down as several of the other sorcerers either hurried or outright portalled across the battlefield to them.

"He's alive," Sam said to them. "I didn't see anything hit him, so I'm not sure why he's out."

"That's what happens when you draw in too much power at once," Wong said as he kneeled beside Stephen, quickly writing a few runes over him. "It takes its toll upon the body. And for this one he drew from both his own body and the Cloak's magic to harness great dimensional power."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Is he gonna be okay?"

The sorcerers did not immediately answer, instead watching the symbols over his body as they slowly changed shape, but eventually one of the shifts in the symbols made Grem sigh in clear relief.

Wong's expression didn't change, but his shoulders relaxed. "It appears so. He's just exhausted himself. I don't expect him to wake up for a few hours."

"The cloak, too?" Hope asked, eyeing the red garment with a not-very-well-hidden concern.

"The cloak will recover faster," he answered, and her own stance relaxed in relief.

Tony peered Stephen over. "Does he need any medical aid? Compound's not too far away, especially with the quinjet."

Wong shook his head. "As I said, he's just exhausted himself. Thank you for the offer, though. We'll take it from here."

"Thanks for the hand, too," Grem added. "The rest'll never admit it, but it helped." The Avengers looked amused at the comment.

"Glad we were in the neighborhood," Sam said. "And tell the Doc to take better care of himself. He's a doctor and supposed to be setting a good example."

Grem snorted. "Yeah, we'll see about that." He opened up a portal to Kamar-Taj and Wong floated Stephen's body through. By the time they had closed the portal behind them, the Avengers realized that the rest of the sorcerers around them had made very quick work of disposing of the remains of the Mindless Ones and had also departed, leaving the four of them alone. If it weren't for the upturned dirt and large holes in the ground, it would appear that nothing had even happened there.

"I don't really like magic," Sam said.

"Yeah, it sucks," Tony agreed.

Scott shook his head. "You guys are definitely just jealous of them."

"What?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Methinks the gentlemen do protest too much," Hope quipped.

"Absolutely ridiculous." They continued their good-natured banter as they made their way back to the quinjet.

————

((Ehhhhh definitely not my favorite piece I’ve ever written but three prompt fills so there ya go. Sadly was unable to fit in a pun about the other title the Mindless Ones have earned themselves in the comics, 'Black Hole Sons', into the story. You know, with the big hole in the sky. And also the song. Yeah. Oh well.

Also, this is my 15th fill for Stephen Strange Bingo and I still don’t have an actual bingo because my muses clearly hate me.))

[taww]

Class A Amps Explained & Compared: Valvet A4 Mk.II vs. Pass Labs XA30.5

After years of hearing about the benefits of Class A amplifiers, I finally got a taste in my system when the Valvet A4 Mk.II monoblocks arrived. Despite its cost and inefficiency, Class A operation has long been held as a gold standard of amplification by many in the high-end, Krell and Nelson Pass among its better-known evangelists. Different Class A amps have their distinct sonic character like any other amps, and no, Class A isn’t a guarantee of great sound. But one commonality I’ve heard from many of these big hot amps is a lovely naturalness and liquidity that came closer to tubes in capturing music’s tonal colors... as if all that bias current helped burn away the ills of solid state. Once I heard good Class A, many otherwise excellent Class AB amps seemed a bit bland and mechanical by comparison. This was borne out when the Valvet arrived while the excellent Bryston 4B Cubed was also in-house. While the powerhouse Bryston was a great amp in its own right, the Valvet just seems to have less electronic artifact and more musical blood flowing through its veins, to paraphrase an old colleague. I was hooked and craving more Class A, so I jumped at the opportunity to give the Pass Labs XA30.5 a try. Replaced by the XA30.8 a few years back, it’s an older design that became a bit of an icon as one of the more attainable ways (MSRP $5500) to achieve Class A nirvana. It makes for a fascinating design contrast with the Valvet - big American muscle vs. tidy German simplicity.

What is Class A again? 🤓

First, a quick refresher. “Class A” operation means the devices (in this case the output transistors of the amp, commonly MOSFET or bipolar [BJT] devices) have enough bias current applied to them to ensure they always stay conductive (“on”) throughout the entire voltage swing of the musical signal. Remember that transistors tend to behave like on-off switches that require a certain threshold current to become conductive. This non-linear behavior is called the transconductance curve, and the idea with Class A is you always have enough juice flowing to keep the device in the conductive, most linear part of the curve. 

Non-linear transconductance (current vs. voltage) curve of a bipolar transistor (BJT). Amazing we can get good sound of of these things, eh? (Source: stackexchange.com)

In contrast, Class AB amplifiers utilize “push-pull” complementary (NPN/n-channel and PNP/p-channel) pairs of transistors taking turns handling the positive and negative swings of the musical signal. They will only apply enough current to keep both devices on for smaller signals, and as power increases one side of the push-pull will cease conducting while the other side takes care of business. This is a clearly a more efficient setup - no wasted power for a device that doesn’t need to be on - but one that does have one device always transitioning in or out of its ideal operating region. Even if it’s not doing the heavy lifting, it’s contributing non-linearity and this leads to distortion that typically requires some form of negative feedback to mitigate. (If you’d like to go a level deeper on the theory of all this, check out this tutorial.)

A couple observations that are obvious from a circuit perspective, but perhaps clouded by all the marketing speak in the audio biz. Firstly, virtually all single-ended audio amplifiers are Class A by definition, and all Class AB amplifiers are push-pull. There would be no point in designing a non-Class A single-ended amp for audio because it would distort massively whenever the signal exceeded its Class A bias range. Class A for push-pull means both devices are conducting all the time, but there is an interesting catch - if the output signal exceeds the amount of bias current to keep one side of the push-pull pair in its linear region, the amp still keeps working because the other device is conducting - it’s being pushed in the opposite direction on its transconductance curve, towards saturation (overload). This means unlike single-ended Class A, push-pull Class AB will simply start acting like Class B at high power levels.  Secondly, not all Class A biasing is the same - yes, the device might be fully on, but how far into its operating region (where on the transconductance curve) has it been juiced? This is why e.g. when Pass Labs upgraded the XA30.5 to the XA30.8, they increased bias current significantly, resulting in an amp that was still rated at 30Wpc but used over 100 watts more at idle and weighed 25 lbs more.

Class A Power Ratings 🔌

With all that in mind, let’s look at the rated power of these two amps. The Pass Labs weighs 60 lbs/27 kg and is rated at 30 watts into 8 ohms, which is literally 1/10th the rated power of the similarly-sized Bryston 4B Cubed. The Valvet is rated at 55 watts into 8 ohms, with each compact monoblocks weighing 26 lbs/12 kg - it’s well under half the size and weight of the Pass. How can both be Class A, meaning they both operate at low efficiency, yet the Valvet is purportedly 83% more powerful in such a compact package? While I haven’t spoken with Valvet designer Knut Cornils about how he rated the power of the A4, Pass Labs is very clear that their 30Wpc rating is for fully Class A operation, but that the amp will continue delivering power with low distortion well past that. And indeed, when Stereophile measured the XA30.5 on the bench, it delivered 130 watts into 8 ohms and 195 watts into 4 ohms before hitting 1% distortion. Those famous Pass Labs bias meters (NOT power meters as on e.g. Macintosh amps) also tell you exactly when bias current starts to fluctuate, indicating the amp is leaving Class A. On my 92.5dB-efficient Audiovector SR 6 speakers, they would just start to wiggle on heavy bass notes or orchestral climaxes at high listening levels.

Valvet A4 power draw at idle. Double this for two monoblocks.

Since I wasn’t able to measure the actual bias current inside the amps, I took a look at idle power draw as a rough proxy. Though the Pass XA30.5 is rated at 238W at idle, I measured closer to 190W once fully warmed up; meanwhile, the Valvet monoblocks idled at around 90W each. So, pretty similar, which doesn’t mean their Class A biasing is the same (it depends on a host of other factors such as the voltage of the supply rails) but it hints to the Valvet not being “juiced” any more deeply into Class A despite its higher power rating. This is also borne out by the similar operating temperatures (toasty, but not burning hot) and the fact that the power supply in the Pass, while having less capacitance than the Valvet, likely has just as much (if not more) transformer muscle. I don’t know the rating of the Pass’s massive toroid but I suspect it’s more then double the 400VA in each Valvet.

With the caveat that this is conjecture based on the physical, electrical and sonic observations (more on those later), the Valvet’s 55 watts are likely closer to the 1% THD point where it has crossed over into Class AB, and not at full Class A. And as another point of comparison, I currently have the Gryphon Essence Class A power amp that’s rated at 50 watts Class A, and it weighs all of 100 lbs with an absolutely massive power supply. Just as all watts on amp ratings are not alike, neither are all Class A watts apparently.

Sonics 🎶

The Pass amp took some time to come out of its slumber after having been powered down for a while, but its famously warm, relaxed character was immediately discernible. After a couple days much of the initial “MOSFET mist” burned off and a wonderful synergy developed between Pass Labs amp, Audiovector SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté speakers and Furutech DSS-4.1 speaker cables. The XA30.5′s big tone, ripe bottom end and easy power nicely complemented the speed and range of the Audiovectors, requiring no softening or sugar coating from the exceedingly transparent Furutech wire. Compared to the Valvet, the Pass had a bigger sound with more generous bass that was borderline fat without ever getting sloppy. Interestingly the soundstage was noticeably wider as well, despite the Valvets being monoblocks which would ostensibly give them an advantage in channel separation. Vocals on the Pass were a little fleshier on a broader, more spaced stage, and dynamics felt a bit more grounded by that extra bass oomph.

Pass’s XA.5-series styling certainly wasn’t known for its subtlety...

The Valvet counters with a faster, more incisive sound. One of the distinguishing features of the Valvet is the use of a single pair of transistors in the output stage. A number of manufacturers have been taking this approach as of late, including Pass in their XA25 amplifier which takes purism a step further by also eliminating the emitter degeneration resistors. The argument for such a simple topology is that no two transistors behave identically, and thus paralleling them causes some loss of fidelity as you can never get all of them at an identical ideal operating point and things kind of “average out.” The XA30.5 uses 10 pairs of MOSFETs per channel, and it’s only when you listen to the Valvet that you realize the Pass might have a few extra dancers in the troupe who aren’t quite as perfectly in lockstep with the music. The Valvet paints with a finer-tipped brush that can trace all the contours and curves of a musical line with great agility; the Pass doesn’t lack for resolution, but feels a tad slower and mushier, like a brush that has a bit of fuzz around it. This is particularly apparent in the upper frequencies where the Valvet has noticeably more sparkle and precision.

Tonally, both strike me as not deviating very far from neutral, but the Valvet has a subtle bit of upper midrange highlighting that methinks is in part due to its silver internal wiring. Silver tends to have a shinier sound to it, and when balanced well in a system it can really bring the details of a performance alive; but if not properly balanced, it risks sounding lean and forward. With the Valvet, the silver character is applied very judiciously, but I did find I needed to use more relaxed interconnects and speaker wires (e.g. Audience) to get the right overall tonality and perspective. The payoff is in the upper frequencies, where the Valvet makes the Pass sound a bit thick and cloudy by comparison. With a suitable source and preamp (the Gryphon Essence preamp was transformative in this respective), the tinkle of triangles and sheen of violins are presented with effortlessly clarity.

For reference, that’s a bookshelf speaker (Role Kayak) with 4″ woofers.

In terms of Class A qualities, both have wonderfully colorful midranges and a fair helping of liquidity and naturalness, but the Pass wears these quality more on its sleeve by sounding downright lush at times. It also maintains this warmth at higher volume levels where the Valvet can start to get a bit brighter and more strained, perhaps indicating where it’s leaving its Class A bias range. Where both excel is in conveying the lyricism of a tune or the palpability of an instrument or voice owing to their resolving, tonally complete midrange presentations. Both have a singing character that sounds and feels so organic and unencumbered vs. a typical Class AB amp. The Valvet does it with a slightly sharper focus on the lines around instruments and a bit more sparkle and dynamic alacrity; the Pass does it with a big, easy smoothness and weighty low end. Though the Valvet has no problem driving my full-range Audiovector speakers to satisfying volume levels, the Pass feels like it’ll be a bit more effortless and stable into a wider variety of speakers given its beefier output stage.

Going out on a limb: based on Gary Beard’s insightful remarks in Positive Feedback, methinks the Valvet might have more in common with the sound of the newer XA30.8. Gary’s observations of the XA30.5 align very closely with mine, and he describes the 30.8 as being more precise and incisive vs. the 30.5, similar to how I hear the Valvet vs. the 30.5. I would certainly expect the newer Pass to have more grunt than the Valvet given its even more massive power supply, but the Valet might capture some of the delicate qualities of the Pass XA25 as well. Both of those amps would make a really interesting comparison to the Valvet.

Closing Thoughts 🤔

Nit-picking power ratings aside, the Valvet A4 and Pass XA30.5 are both fantastically musical amplifiers that deliver plenty of the famed Class A magic with verve and character. It’s no coincidence that after the Valvet landed in my system, the next two amplifiers I’ve sought out - the Pass and the Gryphon Essence - are also Class A. This isn’t to say I’ll never go back to Class AB (and I’m actually expecting a Class D amplifier soon 😱), but after years of swearing I’d only seek out more practical amps that weren’t so ridiculously big and hot, the Class A bug has bitten me pretty hard. If tonal purity and musical nuance are top priorities for you, amps like the Valvet and Pass Labs deserve a spot on your audition list.

[killjoy-loveit]

The Set Up

Request: Hey can I request a Hanbin scenario where you become friends with someone he is close to and they ‘subtly’ try to set you both up and it’s awkward but cute at the same time? Love you ❤️❤️

A/N: Alright, so I got carried away, (I’m writing this before I’ve even actually finished as it’s longer than my other requests). I just wanted to create a bit of backstory because it helps me connect to my characters, thus the increase in length. You got a problem with it, too bad :P I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality.

Word Count: 2,174

Genre: Comedic Fluff? (You guys should know by now I suck at determining the genres, unless it’s an AU)

***Profanity warning (like two words, but still)

    Air filtered through the open crack of your bedroom window, sending a much appreciated breeze through the stifling room. A groan of annoyance escaped your lips as you stared at the page of numbers in front of you. None of it made any sense whatsoever, or at least that’s what you were convinced. It felt like math was an actual person who decided to con you for the long haul, staying silent for the most part and allowing you to believe that everything was okay. Except in the end, as any long con goes, you get screwed over.

    You mentally cursed at yourself for believing this course wouldn’t be too difficult. Another distressed sound left you, causing you to pick up the offending textbook, fully prepared to throw it across the room. And you actually would have done it if your roommate hadn’t opened your door at that exact moment. She blinked at you for a second, taking in the way you had the textbook raised, poised to launch it into the air. Then she promptly burst out in laughter, which had you drop it back on the bed with a pout.

    “Oh my god, Y/N! Were you really going to throw that book?” Lisse asked, her face lit up in amusement.

    “No. Maybe… Yes. It’s just- math is really frustrating you know? I feel like I was five seconds from yanking my hair out!”

    “How about you get out of the house for a while and, I don’t know, get some air? There’s that new smoothie place a few blocks down. Oh, or that little coffee shop on the corner!”

    “Alright, alright. I’ll go.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

Thirty minutes later you had a mango-peach smoothie in hand as you walked aimlessly through a nearby park. The trees were swaying lightly as the breeze flowed around them. As they swayed, you took note of the other people in the park. There was a couple having a picnic and being almost sickeningly cute, a few kids were running about, and some people were out walking dogs. Then a little further down was a group of guys, who if you had to guess, were close to your age, playing some game with a ball. Walking a little further you spotted a bench facing the small pond, and with a bright smile you made your way over to it.

    You’d only been sitting there a few minutes, enjoying the vague sense of serenity you gained from looking at the pond, when a shout interrupted you. Shocked at the loud noise, your head whipped around only to see a ball flying full speed at your head. Immediately, you ducked, and followed this action with a whispered curse.

    “I’m so sorry!” Came the voice of a guy, one you assumed who’d been playing the game.

    Sitting back up properly, you looked at the guy standing in front of you. Although the look was more of a glare than anything else. As you inspected him, you took note of the fact he was wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer, which struck you as odd. He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and a small apologetic smile on his face. Your harsh glare softened as you deemed his apology sincere.

    “It’s fine. At least it didn’t actually hit me.” You murmured.

    “Again, I’m really sorry. My friend lost control of the ball, he’s not very good with this kind of stuff.”

    You laughed quietly at his words. “If he isn’t good at controlling the ball, why do you let him play?”

    “Teams would be uneven without him, and to be honest he doesn’t really want to. We just convince him every time.” The guy explained.

    An idea struck you at the guys explanation. What if you played the game with them? It would most certainly serve as a good distraction from the intimidating math assignment that was driving you crazy.

    “Can I join the game?”

    His eyes widened slightly before he grinned widely at you. “Sure!”

    In the following hour you had finished your smoothie while playing some game- you still weren’t sure exactly what it was to be completely honest. Not only did the game provide a sufficient distraction but you also managed to help your team win somehow. And you’d learned the guy’s name, the one who’d come over to apologize, it was Bobby. Now, the sun was beginning it’s descent for the evening, signaling the end to this brief distraction. As goodbyes were said, an exchange of numbers went down, since the group of guys decided they wanted to be hang out with you later on. You were satisfied with how your afternoon had gone, and you felt oddly energized to take on that demon of a math assignment.

    Weeks had passed since that day in the park, and you’d managed to hang out with the guys a total of five or six times since then, sometimes dragging Lisse along. Bobby was always the one texting you asking you to come hang out with the group, recently he’d been mentioning there was someone he wanted you to meet. Honestly you weren’t sure what to expect, although Lisse thought he was trying to set you up with someone. Every time he mentioned it while you were all together, Lisse would shoot you a look, the kind that said ‘you’re getting set up’, paired with her wiggling her eyebrows.

    Of course, you didn’t believe this, you just thought he wanted you to meet one of his friends he was close with. Thus, when he texted you to meet him at his place, saying he was gathering people to, in his words ‘just chill’, you didn’t think anything of it. So, you headed over dragging Lisse along with you. Though she complained the entire way there, saying how you interrupted her quality couch time to just hang out with the guys once again. When you arrived and Bobby answered the door, he looked flustered at the fact you’d brought Lisse along. His eyes going a little wide upon seeing her standing, pouting beside you.

    “Hey Lisse, I thought just Y/N was coming.” He said, casting a confused glance at me.

    Lisse butted in before you could respond, playing like you had actually forcefully dragged her here. “It was terrible, Bobby. She just pulled me from my beautiful couch, all the way here. I just wanted to stay there and watch tv.”

    She ends her whining with a pout and folds her arms across her chest. Thankfully Bobby was used to Lisse’s antics and just chuckled at her, before motioning you inside. You walk inside quickly, taking note of the fact that it was rather empty. Where were the other people Bobby said would be here? As you were looking around trying to find traces of any other person, you made it into the living area, where you found a guy you hadn’t met before, half-asleep on the couch. You turned around, flattened your lips and blinked slowly at Bobby, waiting patiently on an explanation.

     “This is my friend, who I wanted you to meet,” He says, walking forward, shaking his head. “Hanbin!”

     The guy shot up in his seat, eyes widening like he’d just been shocked. “Yes?”

     “This is Y/N. Y/N this is Hanbin.” Bobby said, a small mischievous smile finding its home on his lips.

     “Nice to meet you, Hanbin.” You murmur, looking over at him.

      He nods lightly. “Same to you, Y/N.”

     “Oh, I forgot to grab some stuff from the store. I’m almost out of chips and snack food. Lisse, come with me!” Bobby said quickly, giving none of you any time to protest before he was rushing out the door with Lisse in tow.

     Then it was just you and a stranger in Bobby’s place. Well, he wasn’t a stranger to Bobby, but you on the other hand had just met him. You smile awkwardly at him before cautiously making your way to the opposite side of the couch and taking a seat. Hanbin sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face in what you thought to be annoyance.

     “I- he just… Fuck,” He muttered. “Shit… I’m sorry!”

      You just laughed at his behavior. “It’s alright, a few cuss words aren’t that bad. Besides I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

     “Ha, okay.”

     An awkward silence fell over the two of you after that. You could tell he felt some sense of obligation to try and carry on a conversation the way his mouth opened and closed every so often. It was also easy to notice he was pretty uncomfortable being left alone with you, seeing as how every time he looked over at you his ears turned red and he’d blush a little. If you were being honest, you thought he was kind of adorable. So, since it was difficult for him to break the silence, you figured you’d do it for him.

     “I’m not going to bite you, ya know?”

     Hanbin let out a loud burst of laughter at that. “I guess if you say so.”

     “I mean there are certain people I’d bite without second thought, but you don’t seem so bad.”

     “Thanks, I think.” He replies with a tilted smile.

     After that the awkwardness between you two was broken, and conversation flowed smoothly. Although it did have it’s pauses here and there, whenever he’d get back into his head and start jumbling his words. Every so often you’d need to jump in, throw out a quick joke to get him out of that headspace and allow the conversation to get back to its original path. By the time Bobby and Lisse got back, you felt you knew quite a bit about each other. It was also quite obvious what Bobby had hoped to achieve by leaving the two of you alone. He’d wanted to set you up with each other, and it was evident in the way he smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

     “So? Did you guys get to know each other?” He questioned.

     “Do you like each other yet?” Lisse asked with a wide grin.

     “Way to be subtle.” Bobby muttered, elbowing Lisse in the side.

     You rolled your eyes at the two of them, standing up to go see what they’d gotten from the store. As you were looking through the bags you heard a quiet murmured conversation happening behind you. Although the words were too soft for you to make out what exactly what was being said, you figured it was some type of debate with the heat that was in them. Lisse came up beside you, wrapping an arm casually around your shoulders.

     “Hanbin’s really cute. I was right, though, Bobby was trying to set you up with a friend. I, personally, think you should totally go for it.”

     You sigh. “Were any of his other friends coming over or was this just a ploy to initiate the set up?”

     “Oh they’re coming over, in… Less than five minutes.”

     Forty minutes later you were fully immersed in a debate about which chips were the best. It was stupid and you were quite aware of that fact, but you couldn’t just let this guy trash your favorite snack. Other people were scattered around the apartment, some drinking, others chowing down on the snacks that had just been acquired. You were about to make an amazing rebuttal, if you had to say so yourself, when you spotted Bobby and Hanbin across the room. Bobby was saying something to Hanbin who was blushing and shaking his head, like he was embarrassed. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face, Hanbin was just too cute. Then Bobby suddenly pushed him forward, saying something you made out to be ‘go’. Briefly you wondered what it was he was making Hanbin do before you turned back to your debate, only to find your opponent gone.

     Though you didn’t have to wait too long to find out what it was Bobby was making Hanbin do, as you felt a hand meet your shoulder. Turning around you saw Hanbin standing in front of you, his eyes creased with worry, and the blush still present on his cheeks. His teeth nibbled at his lower lip as he thought on what he was about to do, eyes flickering over to Bobby, who was shooting him a thumbs up.

     “This is- you can say no if you want to, I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of this. Do you, maybe, wanna go on a date with me?” Hanbin stammered out quickly.

     “Sure.”

     “It’s okay if you say no, really I’d-.” He cut himself off, looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, did you just agree?”

     “Yeah, I think you’re cute and you have a nice personality from what I can tell so far.” You say shrugging your shoulders.

     Hanbin smiled brightly at you, a cheerful laugh escaping him. “Okay.”

     “Okay.”

[tszyingwong]

VIDEO ESSAY SCRIPT (Subtitles Provided in Video)

THE 12 PRINCIPLES OF ANIMATION

The following has been paraphrased from the illusion of life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston.

Squash and Stretch

It mainly gives the weight and flexibility of the object and emphasizes the instant physical changes by squashing and stretching, like a ball stretching when it falls down and squashing the ground. This increases the vividness and fun of the animation.

Anticipation

It refers to the expected action of an object from the standstill to the start of the action, allowing the audience to predict the next action. For example, a character bends his knees so we can predict that he is going to jump. Adding the anticipation properly in the animation not only adds vividness but also surprises the audience.

Staging

It is the presentation of any idea such as an action, a personality, an expression, or a mood, which is clear and precise. The frame may only present the upper body or the whole body of the character, the action of the character to interact with the background, the relationship between the previous action of the character and the next action, presenting what is happening in the animation and avoiding unnecessary detail.

Straight Ahead Action and Pose to Pose

They are the two main approaches to animation. Straight Ahead Action is that doing the frames one by one, it works well for some unpredicted movements like burning of fire, flowing of water and moving of hair, etc. Pose to Pose is to animate different key poses according to the plan of actions, then fill with in-between poses afterward, which works better for complex, dramatic or emotional scenes. We can always combine these two techniques to get a better result of the movement.

Follow Through and Overlapping Action

Object follows the laws of physics, including the principle of inertia. Different parts of the body move at different rates, so when the main body stops, other parts will not stop all at once.  it is impossible for the moving object to suddenly stop moving. For instance, applying a force to swing the pendulum, and then it slowly swings to the stillness. That is a follow through action. Creating overlapping action like the swinging of tail and hair. These actions make an animation more realistic. 

Slow In and Slow Out 

An object is progressively accelerated from rest to movement, and moving to rest is progressive deceleration, which means that the object moves from start to finish does not move at equal speed.

Arcs

The movement of most creatures is not a perfect straight line, so the movement should be presented in a natural arc to make the movement appear smooth and natural.

Secondary Action

Adding secondary actions to the main action making a scene more life and helping to support the main action. For example, the earrings that are worn will sway, the tail will sway, the coat will be elegant, and so on. When the main body is moving, if there are other additional accessories on the body, it will move in a natural way. Otherwise, it will make the whole action unnatural.

Timing

Timing refers to the number of drawings or frames for a given action, which translates to the speed of the action on animation. For example, the action of punching forward is instantaneous, and boating in the lake is slowly moving forward. Even one action can consist of different timing in it. Controlling the action time of an object is the soul of the animation, and it is also the key to expressing the rhythm of the animation.

Exaggeration

Exaggeration is a particularly useful effect on animation because it makes reality actions vivid and impressive. For example, in an animation, a person's face is smashed deep and deep, and the sprint will add a lot of gorgeous effects.   

Solid Drawing

It means giving the drawings volume and weight by taking into account forms in three-dimensional space. Traditional animations are hand-drawn, and the better the hand-painting skills, the more refined and perfect the animation. Until the modern computer draws animation, it also needs a certain hand-painting ability. For example, character structure, skeleton, modeling, movement, perspective, background, and so on.

Appeal

A good animation work must have attractive people, such as the distinctive appearance of the characters, the special features, and the complete climax of the story can attract the audience.

All in all, whether you are doing traditional, hand-drawn animation or computer animation, these principles still have great relevance for doing animation.

_______________________________________________________________________

Reference

Thomas, F. & Johnston, O. (1981). The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation (1995 Edition). United States: Disney's Hyperion.

20th Century Fox. 2009. Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs | Trailer "Scrat, Scratte & the Acorn". March 25, 2009, on YouTube. Trailer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FihSyAikRY

Disney Channel Africa. 2017. Mickey Mouse Shorts - Ku'u Lei Melody. July 6, 2017, on YouTube. Short Film. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAAlw4moD74

Disney Pixar. 2011. Cars 2. November 14, 2016, on YouTube. Movie Clip. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtlmWdwu20I

Disney Pixar. 2011. Toy Story Toons: Not In Hawaii. October 11, 2011, on YouTube. Short Film. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VxgzOAdkzA

Disney Pixar. 2016. Inside Out. June 19, 2016, on YouTube. Movie Clip. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZ-geVMR_Jw

Disney Pixar. 2018. Incredibles 2 Official Trailer. April 13, 2017, on YouTube. Trailer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5qOzqD9Rms

Mickey Mouse. 2014. Flipperboobootosis | A Mickey Mouse Cartoon | Disney Shows. January 7, 2014, on YouTube. Short Film. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAAlw4moD74

Walt Disney Pictures. 1995. Pocahontas. August 19, 2013, on YouTube. Music Video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ThO76peOw0

Walt Disney Animation Studio. 1928. Steamboat Willie. August 27, 2009, on YouTube. Film. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONFj7AYgbko

Walt Disney Animation Studio. 2012. Tangled Ever After. January 26, 2013, on YouTube. Short Film. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ze3gC7t7dUQ

Walt Disney Animation Studio. 2016. Zootopia. May 11, 2016, on YouTube. Movie Clip. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONFj7AYgbko

[sootcloak]

Day Eight: Adroit

This one was fun to write, but probably not as interesting to read, as its an evolution on something I’ve written on before on my own time. Involves some of the Scion mages, Y’shtola, Urianger, and G’raha Tia. I thought about including Aplhy & Alisaie but elected to keep the number of characters lower than half-the-damned-cast of the game.

Roughly ~1000 words of fumbling with the mechanics of the in-universe lore as best I can. Was almost three times that length, but I cut it apart as it dragged on since it was less interesting to read in such a long format.

(I’m almost 100% going to follow through on this one and add a chapter to it down the line, because the emotional payoff from all of this technical & mechanical setup could be a lot of fun to write.)

AO3 Link

       The staff was heavy in her hands - the weight familiar but faded. Cid stares expectantly. Behind her, she can feel the grim shadow of the Scion mages' collective attention.

       ��As I’ve said before, this isn’t going to work. Ever since losing the portions of my body which the aether would flow through, magic has been beyond me.”

       “Please, indulge us.” G’raha says, a tomestone in hand. “The readings this gives us could prove more important than any of us would suspect.”

       She scowls and grumbles wordlessly, but readies the old catalyst. Focuses her attention on the target dummy. In her mind, she walks herself slowly, carefully, through the incantation. She remembers the somatic components, moving her hands through the motions which would, ordinarily, carves small runes of light into the air. She swings the staff to bear, focuses her aether and-

       The staff’s end, tipped in a crystal ball, sputters and sparks. A crack runs through it, a deep hum suddenly echoing from the catalyst. Then, all at once, the sound and sparking light stops. The staff explodes.

       Steel and glass pepper the immediate area, a deathly frost spreading across the ground and covering Vavara’s left arm in a dainty layer of rime. The sound of the detonation is deep, bassy and oddly distant. Parts of the staff are wholly missing. The lower half of the staff abruptly ends in her hands as a smoldering rod of metal.

        Vavara, for her part, collapses immediately. Her aether sputtering and burning and scalding her insides with insistent heat. The faint lights which run through her body flare for a brief moment, shining like a star, and then all go dim.

       “Hit the release!” Cid shouts. She can’t hear him. A brief second later, and she jerks with a single flow of cool relief, fresh aether flowing into her core and the now-corrupt aether she’d used in the attempt flowing out. A small pool of oil and ceruleum drips onto the floor, trickling over her metal arm and down to her limp fingers.

       “Told you.” She wheezes out as hands grab her shoulders and pull her off the ground.

       “Her systems are experiencing rolling failures due to a surge of lightning aspected aether. Some of our instruments were fried by the hardline connection to her systems as well.” Biggs says, adjusting his goggles briefly. “What was the spell?” He adjusts his attention, looking over at Y’sthola, Urianger, and G’raha

       “‘Blizzard I’, if I remember correctly.” G’raha answers. “We wanted to keep the aether in question as far away from her weakness to lightning as possible…”

       “Will you be alright?” Y’shtola asks. Vavara doesn’t answer.

       “Her sensors are out-” Cid says, “She can’t hear or see anyone right now. That was worse than most of the direct levin-exposure tests we’ve run on her, if she hadn’t been connected to the release...” Biggs and Wedge help navigate her limp body to a nearby chair, and prop her up in it. The release cord, a thick rubber tube about the width of a roegadyn’s neck, is connected to her back and so getting her seated is an awkward task.

       “I’m going to establish a hardline connection, so we can type out questions to her while her systems are malfunctioning.” Cid moves between different terminals, typing rapidly.

       “What didst thou witness?” Urianger’s words are quiet as he stands besides the sorceress.

       “The aether channeling within her body was circulating properly, I’m certain of it. But it couldn’t be released for the spell. The incantations were being properly observed, the aether required for the spell was present, and the catalyst itself was built with her mechanical nature in mind…”

       “Yet when it came time for the spell to be carried out, the aether couldn’t be released.” G’raha finishes. “And so, the demand on the catalyst became too great, and it shattered. Why, then, would we have seen the manifestation of ice as the staff was destroyed? If the aether for the spell wasn’t released at all, we should have seen no effect whatsoever.”

       “Nay, the amount of aether the staff didst beckon forth was greater even than that which the spell wouldst have asked of our restricted companion. The aether upon which the spell did call was unable to leave her body, and so rather than channeling itself into an aspect of stasis, did instead repeatedly attempt to eject itself into the catalyst as per the spell’s instructions. In so doing, the aether was made too active, and was in this capacity converted and corrupted. But as the spell had created a theoretical vacuum of needed energy, it drew it instead from the atmosphere itself.”

       “That explains the staff’s destruction. Perhaps it would serve to - No…” Y’shtola stops herself and seems to withdraw into her own thoughts.

       “So the aether involved in the spell doesn’t matter, as it’ll be aspected into lightning as a result of the heightened aetherial activity she exhibits during spellcasting.” G’raha takes another long look at Vavara, and then at his tomestone.“ May I ask her a question, Cid?”

       “Aye. I got a green light on the connection.”

       “Does she use any simple spells, like ‘Return’ or ‘Teleport’, which most adventurers know?” Cid types G’raha’s words swiftly.

       “No.” Her words are quiet, but unmistakably audible from the corner. “Emergency teleport is possible, but unreliable. Sometimes it reverbs, sometimes I’m fine.”

       “Does the reverb take place before or after the teleportation?” He follows up, waiting patiently as Cid's keyboard clicks.

       “Before. Stops the cast. Risky to try.” She answers.

       “So there are times where she can make use of simple spells using little aether, but only unreliably. Would you check to ensure that’s correct?” He glances up at Cid, who’s already typing.

       “No - never works as intended. I have to teleport just my core, leave the body & armor behind.”

       “Strange, Aetherytes usually bear the aetherial burden of teleportation, hence the fee upon arrival taken by the local jurisdiction.” G’raha looks between his colleagues with a bemused look in his eyes.

       “Plenty of mages wear armor, or ornamental bits of silver and gold.” Y’shtola clicks her steeled claws together. “So why does she need to leave her body to teleport?” Urianger suddenly sits up straight, alert. He looks to Cid, and speaks.

      “When she doth speak of her body and her armor, is she speaking of the body she doth inhabit and the armor it wears, or the armor which surrounds the crystalline core her soul is enshrined within?”

       “The core’s shielding.” Her voice is coarse, but definitive.

       “I would present my theory once she is recovered.” He pauses a moment, and seems to consider himself. “Along with my humblest apologies.”

[deuce-duce]

Hmmm where should I begin I think ill start with explaining a little bit about why I initially started writing this thing. Primarily because I was tired of being silenced while essentially people destroy my identity and character. But not in my local town or where I work... but the entire nation. Thats fucked up! No matter how you want to look at it. Its crazy that in todays society its OK to spew hate lies and deceit and everybody goes with flow... but the moment you start saying listen Idk what you have been told or what the latest gossip is but I can assure you its probably not what you think it is. As soon as that happens the whole world loses their minds...

The other reason I started writing is because although I don't necessarily want to put myself on a pedestal I think I might be a pretty rare individual. Over the course of the last four years with the show in full effect and the constant psychological and sexual abuse im put through is in full swing I haven't suffered from a TBI making it possible for me to figure this whole thing out without having my conscience memories taken from me to. That being said this is journey for me as well learning about myself and what this has done to me... whether you believe me or not that really is unimportant to me I just think that this story documented. Along with societal constructs and the amount of fuckery we actually involve ourselves in, without ever doing any research! And blaming the individual for telling the truth asking you to stop helping because your just making things worse. I'll explain further down what I mean.

Now I don't think im all that brilliant really i mean I think I am but in reality what you think of yourself is important but really doesn't mean shit if your told how dumb you are everyday or treated like shit because there's things you just can't do. Not that your incapable of doing them or don't know how to do them but because you literally suffer from multiple mental health conditions the primary condition being a dissociative identity. That being said, there is no medication no cure or any type of hope to ever not have to be worried about dissociating. The fucked up part about it is... is that my dissociative state isn't like normal dissociative states. Most dissociations can happen at anytime during the day or anytime the environmental triggers come into play and so its easier to diagnose and get the help one needs. Mine unfortunately from the hypnosis event that I explained to you is literally during the most vulnerable moments in anyone's life the one place your supposed to feel safe or at least do everything you can to keep yourself safe. But in no way am I able to do that... mine is triggered while I'm sleeping and its not just any trigger but is a trigger that another human being has to consciously do in a certain way to get me to dissociate.

I know for a fact that I don't dissociate on my own or sleep walk or anything like that because I lived with brittany for 4 years and would constantly ask her if I did anything out of the ordinary while I was sleeping. She would yell at me and tell me no &^%$# you barely move in your sleep! And so I would believe her because im sure she was telling the truth... later she would use this as a reason to start her plotting saying I didn't trust her and I would blame her for things like not keeping me safe... and i don't know what else but I'm sure it wasnt good. You don't create this type of carnage in someone's life because you have good memories with that person... or maybe she just didn't realize what exactly it was I was running from to begin with...

What I've just explained to you is to help you understand how fucked up I really am... even after being with someone for at least a couple years nothing going on... I still found myself doubting and worrying about not being safe. And thinking that I had been betrayed yet again. Even though nothing had happened... its fucking crazy... crazy sad. I guess at this point I really had no idea how it all worked.. so you can understand my speculation. But now that I know it makes things different at this point though I don't trust a soul probably never will again.

Another good example of this was I was jn a state where I was still well known...! But didn't have to deal with the sexual and physical abuse just the nental... and ill tell you it literally took me a month to successfully hit on a woman and get her number and read signs properly her friend was telling us we needed to get married and that we were perfect for eachother... I thought so too! We got along really well and damn she was sexy! Whew!! Unfortunately I was running out of money I was staying at an air bnb and needed a job... out of all the places I applied to the only place u heard back from was the place I never wanted to return to... I just thought that maybe things would be different this time... unfortunately they werent... did my best to meet a woman and start dating but she knew who I was and the people who fucked with me and so she started playing games... instead of supporting me and doing with me what I needed to keep myself safe she started saying well were not having sex evertime we hang out setting expectations of us forming a relationship... and not just something casual. The only way I'm ever going to be in a relationship again is by that person who won't play silly games like I mentioned earlier... the last time we hung out she was dressed in a tight leather outfit makeup done and kept turning me down and saying I couldn't touch her after we had already had sex on our first date... but she wanted me for herself and was playing games although she was turning me down... she was like im just going to go to the bar after I drop you off and find something to do... im assuming somebody was more of the case... after that I didn't talk to her again.

So I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with addiction and what happens to a person psychologically during the event of getting intoxicated... I'll elaborate a little bit. It is documented that when an addict is getting high that their adrenaline and endorphins are higher while seeking out and preparing the drugs then when they actually get high. i think this is because of the chasing the first time paradigm. where one continues to get high because they are chasing the feeling they got when they did it for the first time... which never happens so they continue doing more and more until they either die or throw their lives away. this led me to think hmm if that's how the brain works I think it might be the same way for those experiencing pts. stemming from a lifetime of trauma. so if you believe....!!! what i have said already which i doubt but its really of no concern to me but just know i tried to tell you and explain knowing i did all i could is all i can do... back to what i was saying... if the brain works this way when it comes to addiction then id have to tell you that it is the same when it comes to pts.. So listen to this, the other side thinking to themselves.. although they probably wont admit it to the general public but this is their logic, ok...? well we know what we have done to him... and... yea... it is pretty messed up... but if he would just try... then it might be different and we would stop... haha well that's like saying the addict chasing their first time is actually going to achieve it even though its impossible because of all the damage they have already done to their minds and bodies... the only way one can get as close as possible to achieving that first high again is to abstain for a long enough time to establish and restore the chemicals that have been depleted over the course of the addicts drug use history. just like you cant expect me to do something that has caused me severe consequences, even though what I did was right... and acceptable and essentially the keys i need to free myself from the cage that i find myself in... today. that wasn't the case then. and with everything else being the same as then all i can do is associate the two and not screw myself over again and face the possibility of getting my head kicked in. as delusional as that might be its the truth. and with everything being the same as it was then I'm supposed believe that the things that's supposed to set me free isn't a trap haha good luck but if you want to know my criteria it would be doing the right thing!! lets see if you can figure it out!! oh and this doesn't only go for the woman ill be with but also for anyone trying to help me in any way shape or form.... sorry but its the only way i can be certain your not part of the machine!

not only that but people keep on keeping on with inflicting the psychological trauma on me getting me written up at work for harmless comments but as an employee at this business I can not give anyone a compliment while in uniform so please refrain from hoping ill make an effort at my job. I got in trouble for telling a girl she was gorgeous I didn't know she was only 16 but its not like i was asking her to fuck or coming at her in any type of sexual manner but she is friends with the woman causing all of this... saying I need to stop running my mouth. she even went as far as to say to me man that customer has a nice ass and me saying it doesn't compare to your yours and her saying my ass is flawless... then telling on me saying I kept telling her she had an ass of a goddess.. GTFO HAHA my boss started laughing like so you didn't say that... fuck no! I said what I told you I said. she's like alright oh and then apparently you cant tell another employee that they have pretty eyes either just a heads up! but its cool I'm over it I just cant believe I bring out the evil in so many people like man WHO AM I?? WHAT AM I NOT BEING TOLD?!?! I could care less honestly but I'm glad you go to such lengths to try and make my life miserable... i could only imagine what it must be like to actually be miserable... UGH... that would...suck.... i think a lot of this stems from my supervisor giving me three flat tires in one night and then acting like oh... did i give you a flat tire...??? then telling me your not that smart.... never said i was bro but instead turned it around on him telling him dude... don't downplay yourself... your smart!! over and over again. i told one of the other supervisors that i didnt think the guy that had been training me liked me and these were the reasons why but she is also a distraction. and told him exactly what i had said.

just so you guys know anytime that there is someone who likes me and i actually have a chance with. they have someone that is hotter then me maybe smarter or appeals more to the persons wants and desires through manipulation simply to keep them occupied while im in the area and then after i leave and then the person that would have been perfect for me gets dumped and is left all alone again... kind of like whe. Brian started dating brittany after we broke up...

another thing i should put into perspective is that what's wrong with me is a byproduct of child molestation and abuse that being said its ok to prey on something that was created to protect myself because now I'm an adult and i hold the keys... too bad my hands are missing!! since i was 6 when i started dissociating that means every time I'm in that state i go back to being a 6 year old boy... making those who take advantage of my split essentially child molesters... no matter how old i am!!

So how do you diffentiate the good from the bad...?? The bad people are the ones proclaiming and contantly trying to make others believe im gay. I mean i could really care less and tell you myself I'm gay but primarily because of the reasons I mentioned above. The funny thing is the bad people will be the first to be like we should help him... just so that they can be like see he's gay!! Wtf cares... the fact that they go out of their way to prove something that people have all ready seen with their eyes... is a little bit over kill don't you think?? J.s. be vigilant!

The funny thing about all of this is that the same process ensues from community to community and so for you to be led like sheep and ignore the guy going through it all is sorry for saying fucking Stupid!! But hey its cool

The other thing I can't understand is how you can walk by drive by and go out of your way to tell me how dumb or stupid or gay I am but not one person can be like yo whats up im such and such did you write this or that...? Really! But I'm supposed to do what none of you do!? Really cool keep going with that ill be thee idiot! The gay idiot! Thanks for reminding me though!! Maybe one day you'll be as gay as me!!