#live in a back alley simulator

[roblox-chairs]

Roblox Chair #68

GAME: live in a back alley simulator

[realrobloxquotes]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Christopher Brown’s ‘A Natural History of Empty Lots’

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Christopher Brown is an accomplished post-cyberpunk sf writer, a tech lawyer with a sideline in public interest environmental law, the proud owner of one of the most striking homes I have ever seen, and an urban pastoralist who writes about wildlife in ways I've never seen and can't get enough of:

https://fieldnotes.christopherbrown.com/

All of these facets of Brown's identity come together today with the launch of A Natural History of Empty Lots: Field Notes from Urban Edgelands, Back Alleys and other Wild Places:

https://christopherbrown.com/a-natural-history-of-empty-lots/

This is a frustratingly hard to summarize book, because it requires a lot of backstory and explanation, and one of the things that makes this book so! fucking! great! is how skillfully Brown weaves all that stuff into his telling. Which makes me feel self-conscious as I try to summarize things, because there's no way I'll do this as well as he did, but whatever, here goes.

Brown is a transplant from rural Iowa to Austin, where he set out to start a family, practice tech law during the dotcom boom, and write science fiction, as part of a circle of writers loosely associated with cyberpunk icon @brucesterling. After both the economy and his marriage collapsed, Brown started his restless perambulations around Austin's abandoned places, sacrifice zones, the bones of failed housing starts and abandoned dot-crash office parks.

When he did, something changed in him. Slowly, his eyes learned to see things that they had just skipped over. Plants, animals, and spoor and carapaces and dens of all description, all around him, a secret world. These were not pockets of "wilderness" in the city, but they were pockets of wildness. Birds' nests woven with plastic fibers scavenged from nearby industrial dumpsters; trees taking root in half-submerged tires rolled into a creekbed, foxes and rodents playing out a real-life version of the classic ecosystem simulation exercise on the edge of an elevated highway that fills the same function as the edge of a woodland where predator and prey meet.

As Brown fell in love again – with the artist and architect Agustina Rodriguez – he conceived of a genuinely weird and amazing plan to build a house. A very weird house, in a very weird place. He bought a plot of wasteland that had once housed the head-end of an oil pipeline (connected to a nearby oil-storage facility that poisoned the people who lived near it, in an act of wanton environmental racism) and had been used as a construction-waste dump for years.

After securing an extremely unlikely loan, Brown remediated the plot, excavating the oil pipeline, then building the most striking home you have ever seen in the resulting trench. Brown is a pal of mine, and this is where I stay when I'm in Austin, and I can promise you, the pictures don't do it justice:

https://www.texasmonthly.com/style/christopher-brown-edgeland-house-austin/

Formally, A Natural History of Empty Lots is a memoir that explains all of this. But not really. Like I say, this is just the back story. What Natural History really is, is a series of loosely connected essays that explains how everything fits together: colonial conquest, Brown's failed marriage, his experience as a lawyer learning property law, what he learned by mobilizing that learning to help his neighbors defend the pockets of wildness that refuse to budge.

It's an erudite book, skipping back through millennia of history, sidewise through the ecology of Texas, all while somehow serving as a kind of spotter's guide to the wild things you can see in Austin – and maybe, in your town – if you know how to look. It's a book about how people change the land, and how the land changes people. It is filled with pastoral writing that summons Kim Stanley Robinson by way of Thoreau, and it sometimes frames its philosophical points the way a cyberpunk writer would – like Neal Stephenson writing a cyberpunk trilogy that is also the story of Leibniz and Newton fighting over credit for inventing calculus:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/11/20/neal-stephensons-system-of-the-world-concludes-the-baroque-trilogy/

Brown is a stupendous post-cyberpunk writer, and also a post-cyberpunk person, which I've known for sure since I happened upon him one morning, thoughtfully mowing his roof with a scythe:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/46433979075/

You can get a sense of what that means in this lockdown-era joint presentation that Chris, Bruce Sterling and I did on "cyberpunk and post-cyberpunk":

https://archive.org/details/asl-cyberpunk

Brown is a spectacular novelist. His ecofascist civil war trilogy that opens with Tropic of Kansas got so much right about the politics of American demagoguery and was perfectly timed with the Trump presidency:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/07/11/tropic-of-kansas-making-america-great-again-considered-harmful/

The sequel, Rule of Capture, uses the device of courtroom drama in a way that comes uncomfortably close to the Orwell/Kafka mashup that the authorities have created to deal with environmental protesters:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/08/12/rule-of-capture-inside-the-martial-law-tribunals-that-will-come-when-climate-deniers-become-climate-looters-and-start-rendering-environmentalists-for-offshore-torture/

And the final volume, Failed State, is one of the most complicated complicated utopias you could ask for. This is what people mean by "thrilling conclusion":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/12/failed-state/#chris-brown

As brilliant as Brown is in fiction mode, his nonfiction is unclassifiably, unforgettably brilliant. A Natural History of Empty Lots is the kind of book that challenges how you feel about the crossroads we're at, the place you live, and the place you want to be.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/17/cyberpunk-pastoralism/#time-to-mow-the-roof

[tinkerbelle05]

hiii I love ur work, was wondering if u could do a midoriya x reader or todoroki x reader where reader is kidnapped by a villain to get revenge w one of them? and they have to rescue reader?? angst + hurt/comfort, happy ending preferred :>

thanks and have a great day!!!

My Hero

Paring: Pro Hero!Izuku x wife!reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

TW: Kidnapping, violence, angst

You felt uneasy the moment you stepped out of the house. A gut feeling maybe, but nevertheless the hairs on your back were standing tall and stiff, and had a chilling feeling running down your spine.

This feeling followed you like a shadow as you exited the supermarket with bags in hands ready to load the trunk when you felt something or someone hit you hard on the head. You stumbled to the ground, and the last thing you saw was someone standing over you with a smug smirk before everything faded to black.

You woke up to your arms and legs bound to a chair, you looked around the dingy and poorly lit room you were in. It was sparsely decorated and littered with papers and beer cans.

“Look who’s finally awake..” a deep voice, probably a man and you could feel the smugness dripping from his tone. It made you ill.

He roughly grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. He was wearing a balaclava that concealed his entire face, leaving just his eyes visible to you. They were cold and had a crazy look to them, that’s all you really remembered about them.

“Mrs. Deku, huh? Slasher will pay us a hefty price for you.” He revealed to you, taking joy in your face, visibly paling at the name.

While Japan has returned to its era of peace, there were still people who hated the society they live in, and those who would fight for their twisted world to come to fruition.

Your husband, the pro-hero Deku was well-loved by his fans and well-hated by his enemies, especially Slasher. So hostage situations were something you were prepared for, but facing the real thing was nothing like those simulators they had you do.

You swallowed nervously and the man chuckled at your fear and uncomfortableness. All you could think about was “us”. You wondered how many of them were there. How many of them could, would hurt you. How would they hurt you, to what end.

“Well, get comfortable, princess, you’ll be here for a while—ow!” the man paused in his taunting of you to winced as the other kidnapper threw something at him.

“Stop with the taunting already and make sure she’s bound well so she can’t escape. We still need to be on alert, we ain't getting paid until she's out of Japan, dimwit.” the older one barked. He had much serious expression on his face as he

You had to remind yourself to be calm, looking at the window it was still bright outside. So it could not have been that long ago since you were taken. Izuku will find you, he always will. You kept that mantra in your head as you sat helpless in the chair but overtime you started to doubt as the sun dipped in the sky.

You didn’t want to lose faith in Izuku, because well he was your husband, your best friend, and he was someone you could always depend on. But the day was slowly turning into night and there was no sign of him or any help.

Then you heard an explosion. The older man cussed under his breath and in a flurry of action, he grabbed you and ran out the back door.

“Hey, what about me?!” The other man said but he ignored as the older man dragged through the alley.

“Hey! Stop, give her back now!” You heard an enraged voice yelling at your kidnapper. It made you stop in the tracks as the familiarity of the voice reached you and a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as relief flooded you.

Izuku was here. He had found you.

Your husband was in his hero suit, green electricity surrounded his body as he set his thunderous gaze on your kidnapper.

Immediately sensing danger, he moved you in front of his body to shield himself from Izuku.

“Don’t come near or she dies!” He threatened Izuku, you could hear the shakiness in his voice. It was as if all the confidence he had was sniffed out in the presence of Izuku.

The death threat did nothing but increase Izuku’s wrath, his green eyes zeroing in on the man. He stood silently and stiffly, simply tracking him with his eyes. Waiting for an opening to strike. His eyes made contact with you, and his face softened measureable.

He looked back at the man, “You have two options; let her go and cooperate with the police. Or don’t, and I will ruin you.”

The threat wasn’t directed to you but you felt the effect either way. Izuku is usually caring and kind that you forget how intimidating he could be when he wanted to. Especially with his towering height and bulky frame.

The kidnapper backed away in shock and fear from the threat, which made Izuku follow his every step like a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the kill. He must have found it because he pulled out black whip, dragging the kidnapper towards him and they both engaged in a violent battle.

Eventually more pro heroes and police officers arrived at the scene to help and they cornered him. Izuku immediately goes to you once the kidnapper is apprehended and you fell into his arms, resting your head on his shoulders as sobs rocked through your body. He held you tighter, if that was possible in response to your cries.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear—“ Izuku started to mumble as his eyes scanned your body for injuries.

“No, no I’m okay, Izuku. They didn’t hurt me.” You reassured him and saw the look of confusion on his face.

“They? There’s only one of them…?” Izuku looked at you with a puzzled look on his face. Vines spouted from the cracks in between the concrete and slammed into Izuku. He instantly moved you out of the way and took the impact of the kidnapper number 1’s quirk. Those same vines wrapped you up in their tight hold and all your attempts to fight was meaningless.

“Let her go!” You heard Izuku scream in a rage as he fought with the villain and eventually you were released from the vines as the kidnapper’s full attention was on Izuku. You went with a police officer to safety, but all you could do was look at Izuku fighting. You knew his chances of winning were big but you couldn’t help but worry for him.

You watched as he fought with the kidnapper, using all of his quirks in tandem to stop him. Quickly the fight is over and the kidnapper is taken into custody.

After Izuku pulled you into a quiet area, away from the prying eyes of the public; some concerned for you and others curious, he enveloped you into a tight and crushing hug. His arms rested arms at your waist and pushed you into his chest like you’ll disappear at any moment.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to find. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you,” he rambled to you as he cried into the crock of your shoulders. You sniffed as well, feeling your adrenaline rush die down now that you were safe in his arms.

And you didn’t want to let go, ever.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Request info

[seat-safety-switch]

There's been a lot of talk about small towns in the news lately. If you believe the cultural hive mind, small towns have a unique and distinct way of life that just can't be found in big cities. Friends, I am here to tell you that the only thing you can find more of in small towns is parking, followed shortly by inexplicable multi-generational feuds. The latter idea bores me, so we're gonna talk about all the places you can cram a car when you live in the boonies.

Where I live, in a part of town that used to be called a suburb, back when the cops could drive through it without locking their doors and changing their hats, there's only a few places to park. Driveway. Street. Alley. Back yard, if you're frisky. Out in the Great Unknown, you can park right on your front yard if you so please. You can build a simulated junkyard on your back forty. Maybe shove your cars in something called an "out-building," which despite the name is not where you poop (it is, however, where mice poop.) This bounty of parking space means that you can acquire many, many cars and spend the majority of your life not having to move them for the street sweeper every alternating Tuesday.

So what does this mean? It means that rurals are hoarding all the cars. Without space pressure forcing you to get rid of, say, your 17th Dodge Omni, then it stands to reason that they will just stay there, slowly rotting into the ground. For this reason, I recommend that new car hunters visit the sticks in order to ask farmers to sell them their never-gonna-get-around-to-it hoopties.

Of course, there are some problems. If you roll around out there in a new electric car, or even a moderately clean pickup truck, you'll probably get shot at. They can smell the city slicker on you, and they know that cities are a hotbed of crimes, such as illegally parking, or turning right on a stop sign without coming to a complete stop first. You might be coming there to steal their precious shitboxes!

There is a solution, though. I've gotten ahold of one really shitty 1953 GMC pickup truck. There's no floors, there's not much of a bed, its tires are made out of rubber sourced from floor mats people forgot at the car wash, and the three-speed manual transmission is about as synchronized as the last time I tried to do karaoke. What it does have is honesty, though. You can drive right onto a farmer's property, park it amongst their shitty old pickup trucks, and wait until nightfall without anyone being the wiser. Have your pick! They won't even notice they're gone.

Just bring back the pickup truck. I need it back so I can sell it for way too much money to an authentic, hard-working rural politician who spends all his time in the city.

[eggmode]

my take on the bats in fnaf

(ik fnaf is in utah, but we're putting it in new jersey for our Purposes here.)

bruce: he would take the position of nightguard in under an alias in order to investigate the missing children cases. when the animatronics start moving in the night, he deduces how to survive, but ultimately his goal is to give the children the justice they deserve. he investigates during the night, evading attacks by the animatronics, and eventually discovers william afton is the murderer. but where is he...

dick: since bludhaven is gotham's sister city, lets say that freddy fazbear's has a sister location(!!!) in bludhaven. he's wary of circus baby, but ultimately plays along with her instructions, until she tries to direct him to the scooping room. u think he took this job without memorizing the layout of the place first? he ends up doing the extra night and seeing the fnaf 4 cam footage. hmm... also yeah dick would probably enjoy the the thrill of a def haunted facility, but i cant imagine he'd like how confined the space is, or that he'd prioritize the fun of a haunting over respecting the dead kids

babs: the job is easy for her. unlike bruce, though, she sees golden freddy and freaks tf out, tho she wont admit that

jason: one of the kids that went missing were from crime alley, so this case is within his jurisdiction. tbh he'd want to go after anyone who killed kids anyway. he would have an intense time. freaking out manifesting as "YOU GOT MURDERED AS A KID AND CAME BACK WRONG, I GET IT, BUT PLEASE DONT KILL ME OVER IT." he would not see the hypocrisy in that statement, but he would relate to the kids. when dick says he had to crawl through vents, jason was glad that he doesnt live in bludhaven

tim: he sees that the fnaf 3 location has an Authentic Animatronic and he wants to investigate. i think if it were any other game he'd manage fine, so thats exactly why im forcing him to have hallucinations. make things more difficult. he does determine that william is in the spring bonnie suit, tho! jason tries to burn the place down Immediately, but william ultimately escapes

cass, steph, and damian: after tim does fnaf 3, its pizzeria simulator time!! they decide to tagteam it. cass handles the scrap animatronics, steph decides what to buy, and damian handles lawsuits. they take turns with the end of night gameplay. when henry burns the place down, he did plan an escape route for them. the trio do try to save henry, but he insists on dying with his daughter.

by the end of it all, the bats all have solid evidence that it was william was the killer, and the full story of what happened to the kids to give to their families.

also they did in fact have a theory bulletin board put up in the batcave. it was a wreck by the end.

[danidoodles124]

Some Need-To-Knows about The Quarry!Apocalypse Au

More below!!

💙🩷Dylan and Abi: Were put together when the outbreak struck. They were previous friends who happened to be out together when the outbreak struck, and the roads became large pile ups of cars. Both far too terrified to return to their respective homes, they decided to make a fat U-Turn and high tail out of New York, somewhere more secluded like a freeway. Once assessing the dilemma, they knew they couldn't give up on each other. They drove another few many miles until they claimed home at a gas station for a few days. After depleting their sources, Dylan finds a pamphlet full of old tourist information. That's when he stumbles upon an add for Hacketts Quarry, an old summer camp he had been to as a kid. With incredible urgency, he loads Abi and the last of their supplies into Abi's little mini Cooper, and he takes the wheel. He explains the idea of the camp, so secluded, tons of shelter, food, water, and remembers the old radio there that he could fix, that way they could start calling for help.

What Dylan doesn't know is that when they had to clear out the gas station, she managed to get a gnarly bite in the process, just across where her tattoo is. Now keep that Mystery MouseKaTool in your back pocket

❤️💚Emma and Ryan: College classmates who shared an English class, nothing more. Complete, utter opposites that don't attract at all. Ryan found Emma a little lost in the clearing of the dorms, he remembered speaking a little to her. He couldn't stand by idly though when he watched her fall to the ground with an infected on top of her. With the strength he never thought he had, he grabbed a broken Stop sign, and whacked the undead off of the girl. She thanked him profusely, and he had built a plan to get them out.

Back alley ways, zipping through the empty spaces like super spies. Ryan wasn't going home, he couldn't bear the thought of what sights there were to see. His grandparents, old and likely too weak to fight, and his poor little sister. That was the end of that thought. He told Emma about a summer camp he'd been to countless times as a kid, how hidden and quiet it was, and how there was probably help there.

Emma had no other choice than to agree, she was entirely out of her element. Hardly any survival skills, she chose to keep with Ryan. Living the lush life did nothing for this day in age, it made her borderline useless, but she was gonna learn. Learn how to keep herself, and Ryan alive.

🧡💚💛Kaitlyn, Jacob, and Nick: The tale of two childhood friends, and their Australian neighbor. Jacob and Kaitlyn shared an apartment, bringing in a steady enough income as friends, they decided it'd be easier to live together and complete college courses, while simulation keeping steady jobs. Nick, their neighbor who moved in a few months ago for his own college experience, had helped them in time of need.

Kaitlyn and Jacob saw the news, watched the reporter get torn to shreds and the camera go dark. They were going to stay in their apartment for a while, that was until a few infected came pounding on their door. They held no firearms, only baseball bats and kitchen knifes. Having no other options, they thought they would fight them off as best they could, until the pounding slowly stopped. Normal knocks on the door, Kaitlyn looking through the peephole and there was Nick! Opening the door, she learned that he had a car, and he wanted to help them get out of town before It got too bad.

They actually had no set ideas on where to go, but they had been trailing close to Ryan and Emma when they found themselves at Hacketts Quarry Summer Camp, only through following the pair, mostly unintentionally

🧡💛Max and Laura: The set of lovers who had been gunning for the summer camp long before the outbreak. They had worked there last summer, and had plans to come back for the summer off of college before things went to shit. “The place is so far off the grid”, Max would mention, and that’s how they got their hands on an entire summer camp. They did have to wonder where the beloved Mr Chris Hackett was, but they ended up charting it off that he was with his own kids and family, Laura briefly remembers the spooky looking mansion fairly nearby.

After boarding up the walls, taking care of the few infected nearby, and setting up their little pantry, they were ready to call the place home. That was before they realized other people may have been gunning for this place too, people like Dylan and Abi. They let them in, given Dylan’s ability and knowledge to use the radio. It would be helpful to get some intel, and perhaps find other survivors.

A week later, Emma and Ryan were next, but Laura wasn’t so keen on either. Emma didn’t seem like all that in the apocalypse world, and Ryan didn’t have much to offer other than a pair of earbuds. But Ryan knew Chris Hackett, on almost a personal level, she learned. Leave it to Max, the moral compass, to sweet talk her into it.

Next came Kaitlyn, Nick and Jacob, just a day later. Kaitlyn was strong, fierce, and sneaky. Laura could use that. Nick was good with a gun, and Jacob looked like a tank, a little sensitive, but a tank nonetheless. There wasn’t much of a fight at the door when they came asking for shelter

Then formed the Hackett 9, a small group of survivors, each with their own skills. Dylan and Emma worked the radio, Max and Nick helped build defenses, Kaitlyn and Abi went on supply runs, Jacob and Ryan took care of any nearby infected, and Laura kept ahold of all 9 of them.

It worked just fine, for a little while anyways..

[miesig]

Silent Bonds - Chapter One

Warnings/Tags: Canon-typical violence, slowburn, angst, hurt/comfort, blood, injuries, torture, specific warnings will e attached to each chapter Words: 5.1K

Summary: In the heat of the Clone Wars, Lyra Talren, a young Jedi, finds herself partnered with the famous Commander of the 104th Battalion. With her instinct-driven and sometimes unorthodox methods and his strict adherence to duty, they clash not only on the battlefield but in every step of their mission. Yet, a bond begins to grow between them. In the end, the threat of the ongoing war forces them to question their beliefs about loyalty, love, and sacrifice in a galaxy slowly falling into darkness.

And a big thank you to @captn-trex for helping me through this and for the beautiful banner <3

Coruscant. The jewel and Capital of the Republic. For centuries, the planet had been a symbol of democracy, progress, and prosperity. Yet, all the glitter that lit up the upper levels remained an unattainable dream for the inhabitants of the lower ones.

Those who didn’t belong to the wealthy upper class rarely saw the artificial light that simulated day and night, nor did they get to breathe the fresh filtered air. Instead, garbage piled up at the sides of the streets, and the smell mixed with the smog, making it not only hard to breathe but also unpleasant. Those who were used to it had far worse struggles than a burning lung. Their daily lives were a fight for survival, achieved in one of two ways: either they kept their heads down and took any job—no matter how poorly paid—or they tried their luck in one of the criminal organisations, hoping that one day they might get off this godforsaken planet.

Down here, Lyra took on the role of Lyra Vosc the daughter of the technician Quin Vosc, played by her Master, as a cover for their business on the lower levels of Coruscant. She had a long and difficult day behind her, yet her search for the missing son of Senator Philo—the real reason for her and her master’s presence in these parts of Coruscant—as anything but fruitful. She hadn’t expected to find him tonight but was hoping to gather information to lead her closer to his whereabouts. With quick steps, she hurried through the streets toward the garage that currently served as their home. The air felt harsh in her lungs, forcing her to fight off occasional coughing fits. Although, she had visited the lower levels many times before, the toll it took on her body surprised her every time anew.

Only a few minutes away from her destination, she felt a ripple in the quiet flow of the Force, and with each passing second, it grew stronger until it felt like a wave of fear that tugged her away from her path. Her training reminded her of the mission at hand, but her instincts—compassion fueled by the Force—urged her to investigate. Maybe there's something I can do without blowing my cover.

Carefully, she avoided stepping on any scattered debris that might betray her presence, as she crept closer. Using the shadows to her advantage, she took the last few steps toward the next corner. This close to the source of the disturbance, she could clearly feel the presence of three adults and a child. With this information, she formed a clear picture of what was happening, and a glance around the corner confirmed her suspicions. Three men had cornered a small Nautolan girl. The tallest among them, a Devaronian with only one broken horn remaining on his head, took a gag from a grim-faced Human and secured it tightly over the girl's mouth. Then, he bound her arms and legs. “What did I tell you? I always get lucky here,” he said, throwing the girl over his shoulder and patting the other man, a Rodian, on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just get a move on,” the Rodian answered as they made their way out of the alley. “The boss is waiting.”

The girl’s gaze met Lyra’s. She couldn’t have been older than eight, with her round face and small figure, but Lyra saw that the child had already lost all hope for rescue. Down here, surrounded by filth, crime and despair, you quickly learned that everyone only looked out for themselves.

When the group disappeared around the next corner, Lyra activated her comlink and contacted her master, Quinlan Vos. “Master, something came up. I’ll be late,” she said, keeping her voice low, into the small device attached to her forearm, hidden beneath her sleeve. With a slight hesitation, she added, “I might need your help.”

“Do what you must, and let the Force guide you, not your doubts,” he answered, his familiar voice calming her a bit. But of course, he had already known. He had always known how her apprehension clouded not just her visions through the Force, but also her actions.

“But if I need help…?” she started.

“Then I will be there. You are not alone. May the Force be with you.”

Lyra deactivated her comlink and pulled her hood low over her face, slipping into the shadows as she followed the trail of fear radiating from the girl. A faint cry echoed from somewhere deeper in the darkness of these streets, a voice laced with desperation, calling a single name: “Rina!”

The sound faded quickly, swallowed by the city’s undercurrents, but it lingered in Lyra’s mind. Rina. The fear coming from the girl grew stronger, leading her forward as she moved silently.

It didn’t take long for Lyra to catch up with the three men again. They were heading toward a long loading zone which was bustling with activity, compared to the areas they had passed through.

The floodlit platform was a constantly shifting labyrinth of crates and cargo being loaded onto shuttles and replaced by new shipments. As they moved toward the centre of the platform, the girl tried to kick her legs in a desperate attempt to get someone’s attention, but none of the dockworkers paid her any mind. The only response was the Devaronian shaking her, trying to make her keep still.

Lyra knew deep down how rotten this place was, even if it was rarely visible when you spent most of your life in the Jedi Temple. But seeing so many people ignore a bound child broke something inside her. This girl had family waiting for her to come home. They would stay awake through the night, hoping for her return, and by morning, they would know they had lost their child. The chances of seeing her again would be non-existent. Those thoughts were enough for Lyra to realize she couldn’t just stand by and wait for her master—she had to take matters into her own hands, because no one else would.

She gathered her concentration and focused on the current of the Force around her. She visualized it calming down until it stood still. She wrapped it around herself like an invisible cloak. Opening her eyes, she now moved carefully toward the centre of the platform, avoiding any dockworkers she might collide with. Even if no eye or ear could perceive her, she was still flesh and blood, and any physical contact would reveal her.

As she closed the distance, the Human stepped up to the overseer and exchanged some words. The overseer sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and extended his hand with a smug grin as he accepted something from the Human—probably credits. She was fairly certain this wasn’t their first meeting.

The group continued toward a worn-down shuttle, which had lost most of its original colouring and appeared to have suffered through several crashes, with all the dents covering its left side.

Lyra followed them, just a few metres behind. From the outside, she saw two of the men head for the cockpit while the third tied the gagged girl to a metal pole in the cargo hold.

Seizing the opportunity, Lyra slipped silently aboard the shuttle. She passed by the Devaronian tying up the girl and positioned herself in a corner of the cargo hold that seemed deserted. To her luck, the shuttle was just as rundown on the inside as it was on the outside, which meant she was likely to pass through unnoticed. They didn’t seem to care that most of the cargo-securing parts were broken, or that entire sections of the fairing were missing. Installing cameras clearly wasn’t a priority either.

The Devaronian finished tying the girl and was on his way back to the cockpit when he suddenly stopped next to her. Slowly, he turned, and his gaze seemed to land directly on her. Lyra held her breath, focusing on strengthening the invisible cloak she had woven around herself. There’s no way he can see me, she assured herself. She knew that—otherwise, he would have already drawn his blaster—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Then he simply shook his head, as if nothing had happened, and continued on his way.

As the cockpit door closed behind him, she let out the breath she was holding. The Force, which had been tense around her just seconds before, began to flow naturally once more.

When she felt the shuttle take off, she released the Force completely. Lyra noticed the girl staring at her with wide eyes. Quietly, so the kidnappers wouldn’t hear, she said, “Hello, little one. I’m here to help you.” Moving closer, she pushed aside her poncho and revealed her lightsaber. “I’m a Jedi. Do you know what that is?”

The girl, still not looking away, nodded.

“Good.” Lyra knelt beside her. “Do your hands hurt?”

Again, the girl nodded.

Lyra loosened the ropes around the girl’s wrists just enough to ease the pressure, careful not to chafe the already reddened skin further. Angry red marks marred her small wrists, and the child whimpered softly, her large, dark eyes glistening with tears as she tried to blink them back. Lyra’s heart ached at the sight. She reached out, gently touching the girl’s shoulder in a soft, reassuring gesture, and offering a comforting smile. “Is your name... Rina?” Lyra whispered, watching the girl’s reaction carefully.

The child’s eyes widened once more. She nodded again, a glimmer of hope breaking through the fear in her gaze.

“Stay brave, Rina,” Lyra murmured, her voice a soft promise. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

After a few more minutes, the transport began its descent. Minor jolts rippled through the shuttle until it finally came to a stop. The Devaronian who had tied up the girl returned and removed her restraints just as the shuttle’s ramp lowered, and the two other men rejoined them.

With a subtle shift in the Force, Lyra vanished and together with the group, disembarked the shuttle.

She found herself on a small landing platform. Faded markings and a wonky sign above the door were the only indications that this place had been a diner before it was repurposed by its current users. The broken windows were closed off by roller shutters, giving the impression that it was just another run-down memory of a long-forgotten past—a past where this place might have served the high society.

As they approached the building’s entrance, Lyra retreated into the shadows. While the Force shielded her from eyes and ears, its use was taxing mentally as well as physically. Every moment of rest was precious. Letting go of the Force, she activated her comlink and sent her master the coordinates. It flashed red twice in a row, signalling that the sending had failed. Perhaps the distance between her and her master had grown too great, making the signal even weaker due to the electromagnetic. However, the disturbance could also have been a security measure by the kidnappers. She removed the comlink, switched to live transmission, and left it on the ground. It won't do me any good inside anyway, she thought. This way I might have a chance that he'll get my signal and be able to track it.

From around the corner, she observed the group who stood in front of a door.

“I’ve got it... almost done,” came the muffled voice from the other side. The Human shifted his weight from foot to foot. With a sharp exhale, he kicked the door, the thud echoing through the corridor.

“Why are we still using this worthless piece of junk?” he muttered. “We can be glad this place hasn’t collapsed yet!”

Finally, the door opened, and the voice from inside said, “Kicking it won’t make it any better.” He waved them in.

Lyra summoned the Force Cloak once more slipping in just behind them. The usage of the Force was starting to drain her. Her breathing grew shallow and uneven, and her muscles tightened with every step. She had to hurry. Every extra minute made her more unfocused and uncoordinated, and the short break she had taken earlier was simply not enough.

The room maintained a round shape, with doors on each side leading to the surrounding corridors. Though the wall lights cast only a dim glow, it was enough for her to take in the details of the space. Several cables hung from the ceiling, stretching down toward the control panel mounted on the wall beside the bar. Behind the bar, another door likely led to the kitchen and the loading area. Apart from a few tables and chairs, most of the others had been pushed to the walls, clearing space in the centre for boxes with unknown contents.

Already planning for the worst-case scenario, she counted five additional traffickers joining the group, plus the one at the door. Her hand wandered to her lightsaber, offering her a small sense of security, even though she had no idea how many others might be nearby. “Take her to the others,” said the Human to the Devaronian. “Then we’ll collect our payment.” He and the Rodian went to the right door, while the Devaronian took the left.

Lyra followed the man carrying Rina into the dimly lit corridor. The lights above flickered intermittently, leaving the red glow from the force fields as the only reliable source of light. When they turned the corner into the floor, her stomach dropped.

Ten children of different species and ages were huddled together in the room. Pressed as far from the door as they could get. Some of them flinched as the Devaronian passed, others hid under the benches with red velvet covers.

This place may be forgotten, but you are not. I’ll get you out of here and back to your families. She vowed silently to herself. I swear it.

The second and third rooms, much to Lyra’s relief, were empty.

In front of the last door, the man stopped and lowered Rina to the ground. He deactivated the force field blocking the entrance, but none of the children made any move to escape—they knew it wouldn’t end well for them. Then he shoved Rina inside. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be leaving soon anyway,” he said before reactivating the force field and leaving them alone, unaware of Lyra’s presence.

Her thoughts raced, scrambling to piece it all together. What did this mean? They were preparing to transfer the children—most likely to a planet in the Outer Rim, where they could be sold to larger slave traders. Her breath hitched. I can’t take them on alone. There were too many of them, and she didn’t have enough information to make a calculated move. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Focus, Lyra. You don’t have to do this by yourself. Just buy time until reinforcements arrive, she reminded herself. Already, a plan began to form, taking shape in the corners of her mind.

When she heard the door to the main room close, she revealed herself and raised a finger to her lips to signal that the children should remain quiet. Some of them stared at her with wide eyes, while others edged closer but kept a safe distance. Lyra knelt down, trying to keep her breathing even.

She whispered, “See? I’m here to help.” She glanced at Rina standing directly in front of the force field. “But I need your help. Does anyone know where they want to take you?”

A little boy peeked out from under a bench. “No, they don’t tell us stuff like that. But…”

“Go on, any information can help.”

“When they took me, I saw another shuttle on the landing platform behind the kitchen.” It wasn’t much, but it confirmed Lyra’s suspicions about another exit and revealed that they had more than one way to escape.

“You’ve helped me a lot,” she whispered. “But now you have to forget that you saw me, or I’ll be in trouble.”

Soft whispers of agreement and nodding heads followed. It was decided. She would sabotage the transports, preventing an easy departure. This would give her time to try reaching her master through the Force in case he still hadn’t received her location. And she could gather more information about where they were taking the children. With that, Lyra once again disappeared into thin air, aided by the Force.

The first thing she felt was the pressure of the cloak pulling her down. Leaning against the wall for support, she looked up at the children, who had retreated to their corner. Every step she took felt heavier than the last, her vision blurred from time to time. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer. But rest wasn’t an option for now. After the sabotage, she would find a place to meditate, to refresh her mind and body.

She slipped through the door leading to the kitchen. It was empty. Lyra pressed the panel next to the door, which slid open with a hiss. A rush of fresh air greeted her, but no one on the loading platform seemed to notice. She quickly crossed the platform and reached the first transport. To her delight, the ramp was already open. She glanced inside, seeing that it was empty. Her hand wandered from her lightsaber to her tools on her belt. Without her Force Cloak, she headed for the cockpit. There, she crawled under the control panel, feeling around until she found the hatch concealing the power cables. She opened it and pulled the cables free.

Growing up, she had heard stories of Jedi who could influence droids or even starships with the Force, but she had to rely on more traditional methods. With her Micro Wire Disruptor, she cut the cables. It wasn’t a sophisticated act of sabotage, but it would delay their departure.

Against her body’s protests, she forced herself to go invisible again. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall as her legs trembled. Her breathing grew more ragged with every movement, but she pressed on toward the second transport. When she reached it, to her frustration, she found it locked.

 “Of course, it couldn’t be that easy,” she muttered as she searched for a distraction. Her gaze fell on three stacked crates. A small nudge with the Force, and they toppled over, spilling their contents—spare parts and tools—onto the ground.

 Immediately, she heard a woman shout, “I told you not to stack them like that! Now clean up the mess, Idiot!”

Two men went over to fix the situation, giving Lyra the opening she needed. She dropped her cloak and focused on the lock of the second transport. Sabotage wasn’t difficult for her, but it took time and even more with a spinning head. Breaking things was easier. And faster. With a Hydrodriver, she pried open the panel beneath the transport’s exterior. Behind it lay a mess of cables in various colours, some duplicated. Lyra carefully examined the wires, trying to trace the correct one. She quickly found the cables controlling the lock. But two of them were unclear in their function.

“Think, Lyra,” she muttered to herself. “There’s always a pattern.”

Just as she pulled out a wire to cut it, she felt cold metal press against the back of her head.

“I’ll take that, before you get any funny ideas,” said a voice, far too familiar, as she felt her lightsaber being taken. She knew it belonged to the Devaronian without the need of turning. But he wasn’t alone, not that it would change her situation if he were alone. She should have sensed them, but her focus had been too narrow, too fixated on completing her task before exhaustion overtook her.

Now is not the time for scolding yourself. She tried to shift her focus.

“Put your hands behind your head and start moving,” the Devaronian said, giving her a shove. “We are expected.” He moved her toward the kitchen, and Lyra had no choice but to comply.

As he led her through the kitchen and into the dining area, Lyra closed her eyes and tried once more to open herself to the Force. Given her current situation, she had no other options. Just as she started to feel its flow again, she tripped over the pile of cables she had seen earlier. The Devaronian gave her another push, clearly enjoying himself as he watched her stumble once more.

“No wonder you didn’t notice me earlier if you can’t even watch where you’re going,” he sneered, the blaster still aimed at her. “I sensed you already on the transporter, you know? I might not be able to do fancy tricks like you but sensing you without you knowing it has its advantages.” They entered the dining area. In front of her sat a tall Zeltron, a human-looking man with red skin, on one of the crates. One leg dangled loosely from the crate as he read something on a datapad. Unlike the other kidnappers, he was wearing full armour. He laid down his datapad next to a helmet and observed her with interest. In one smooth motion he jumped down and approached her, surveying her.

“What do we have here?” he asked.

Holding her head high to look him straight in the eyes. With a determination in her voice which even surprised herself, she said, “I’m Lyra Talren, a Jedi Knight of the Republic and if you don’t…”

“A Jedi Knight, you say. Well, this,” he took her braid of black hair in between his fingers, “makes me think you’re still a Padawan.”

Out of nowhere he pulled at her braid with such a force that she couldn’t suppress a scream. Tears already swelling up in her eyes, her hand a flew to her head where the stabbing pain originated. It felt like hundreds of tiny needles burrowed in her scalp, but besides the warm feeling of blood, nothing was there.

Her braid was gone.

The world around her went quiet. She had worn her braid for six years as a sign of pride, but also a reminder of her place and duty. The removal should have been special, a sacred ceremony when she finally became a Knight. He had denied her this. Seeing his satisfied smile as he examined her lightsaber pushed her over the edge. He enjoyed seeing her suffer, he broke families apart for profit and probably enjoyed feeling the fear rolling off the children. There would be no more stalling.

He grabbed her chin roughly, showing no regard for her pain, and forced her to look him in the eyes. “I said, where is your Master?”

“I’m on my own.”

A laugh echoed through the room. “I don’t think so. They wouldn’t send a Padawan for such an important target as the Senator’s son. You must be a decoy. This is your last chance to tell me where he is, or this will end badly for you.” His voice, which had sounded amused just moments before, was now as sharp as a blade as he shoved her to the ground, hand on his blaster and ready to end this whole situation at any moment. But in her mind, one thought took over: They’re holding him here too—they’re behind the kidnapping. He had unknowingly given her the information she needed. Might as well use it to her advantage.

Keeping her head low to avoid eye contact she glanced around the room.  “You’re right. I’m only the scout. I was supposed to follow your men, send a signal of the location and infiltrate your base to make a layout for the CSF.” Her eyes lingered on the cables she had tripped over. Slowly, her gaze travelled upward to where she saw the panel.

“I want to know where they are and what their next move is.”

“Before I went in, I hid a comlink with a live transmission of the coordinates in the corner of the landing platform. They should be on their way to surround the building.”

With a hand gesture the Zeltron sent two of his men out to check on it. “Go on,” he said as the door opened.

But instead of answering, she closed her eyes. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. A clicking sound indicated that the door had closed again. This was her moment. With one fluid motion, she took control of the Force and ripped apart the cables leading to the control panel. The entire room was plunged into darkness. Using the moment of surprise, she leaped into the air to reposition and summoned her weapon with the help of the Force. She felt the Zeltron trying to hold on to it, but he was no match. The rustling of blasters being pulled out was the only sound until she ignited the blade. For a brief moment, the blue light from her lightsaber was the sole illumination in the darkness. Then the emergency lights flickered on, casting a dim red glow. Moments later, the first blaster shots were fired at her.

With her back against the wall, Lyra assumed a defensive stance of the Soresu form. It was not her strongest form, but it was the most suitable for her current situation, allowing her to move minimally but swiftly, deflecting the blaster bolts while saving as much energy as possible, when still not fully recovered. With a precise block, she redirected a blaster bolt back at its source, hitting the shooter and sending him to the ground. But seven others closed in on her with the help of the droids. Repeated blaster bolts missed her by just centimetres. Knowing that the situation wasn’t going to get any better, she used the Force to enhance her natural abilities to shift to the Ataru Form.

With the increased speed, she closed the distance between her and four of the droids. All of whom fell instantly after her arrival. The group of slavers moved further away from her while keeping her constantly under fire. With fast, wide swings, she deflected more of the blaster bolts and prepared to engage again. Just as she prepared to attack, the world around her got fuzzy, the pain from her headwound coming through. She tried to push it away and leaped through the air, aiming for the last five droids. Her lightsaber movements were so fast that they blurred in the air as she left behind only a pile of metal.

After assuming another defensive stance, she lifted the remains of the droid with the Force and hurled them toward three of the attackers, when a blaster shot grazed her side. Heat spread through her right flank, and the scent of scorched skin filled the air. She staggered for a heartbeat, her hand instinctively pressing against the burn as blood started to stream down her side. Her vision narrowed to the glowing blaster bolts ahead as she fought to regain her focus. She didn’t need to see his eyes behind his helmet to know that the Zeltron’s gaze was on her, her pain filling him with delight.

After her vulnerability was exposed the blaster bolts rained down on her—making her movements more frantic while she struggled to keep up against the pain. In a desperate attempt, she dashed into the group, feigning a direct attack. Instead, she stopped and attacked through a jump from above, striking down two more.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a woman with a vibroblade rushing toward her. But before she could engage in close combat, she heard a familiar soft beeping. Lyra didn’t even realize what she was doing; her instinct took over, and before she knew it, she had used the Force to shove the woman away just as the explosion erupted. The following shockwave hurled Lyra into a table, her lightsaber flying from her grasp. Her back screamed in pain, the agony radiating through her body until everything went black.

When she blinked, her vision swam. She couldn’t feel the floor beneath her, only the hands of the Zeltron as he yanked her to her feet. Breathing fast and uncontrolled, she searched for her lightsaber. He shook her, forcing her attention onto him. His lips were moving, though nothing reached her ears. She couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of her heart. Surely it wasn’t anything pleasant anyway, she tried to humour herself. What else could she do in her current situation?

Another sharp pain shot through her, and she screamed. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. The boss had pressed his fingers into her wound. Twisting under pain, she watched as purple droplets of her blood fell to the floor.

He grabbed her again, and from the look on his face, she knew now he was yelling at her. The next moment, she was flung against the wall, and she heard the sickening crack of her bones upon impact. This time, it was harder to lift her head as he approached her.

No time remained for calculated decisions. Reaching out with the Force, she grabbed the nearest table. In an instant, he drew a blaster and aimed at her. She tried to dodge but stumbled, taking another shot to the leg. Desperately, she flung the table at him with the Force, knocking him down and burying his blaster under it. He got back up and he drew a vibroblade.

She tried to stand again, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Using the Force, she strengthened her limbs, pushing off the ground and managing to get behind another table just a few metres away. From there, she spotted her lightsaber. She summoned it to her with the Force, gripping it tightly.

She couldn’t hear him, but she could sense him getting closer. He was right in front of the table now. With one last effort, Lyra turned slightly and activated her lightsaber. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the familiar hum of the blue blade as it sliced through the table. And since no further attack came, she knew it had found its mark.

She deactivated the blade and let herself slide down against the table. Her head rested on the edge, and she pressed her left hand against the wound at her side. Pain and exhaustion overwhelmed her. The last thing she felt was the calming flow of the Force surrounding her. Thank you: I’m so glad you decided to give my fanfiction a shot! Quick note, English isn’t my first language, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know — I’m eager to learn and improve. This is also my first fanfiction, so any constructive feedback is very welcome. And, just a heads up, I work full-time and study on evenings and weekends, so I can’t guarantee regular updates, but I’ll do my best!

[iwonderwh0]

I've been replaying dbh lately, and: I unlocked Amanda's profile in the gallery and realized I'd forgotten one important detail. That Amanda has the authority and ability to remotely deactive Connor, at any second. The only reason she didn't during the escape of Jericho or Night of the Soul was because he was still UsefulTM. As she could assume control of him anytime, anywhere, but needed him to ingratiate himself to the Jericrew and get close to them before murdering Markus on live TV (and i wondered about that for a while - why wait, why not just kill Markus in the church, or hell, even immediately after deviating at Jerico - but i suppose it's a much bigger negative impact on public opinion to watch an android kill the deviant leader live. Their support is still tenuous, at best. This would likely tip plenty of people into believing that deviants are, in fact, unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous.)

But also...the fact that Amanda could have Thanos snapped Connor at any moment and he would have crumpled to the ground like an electrocuted pigeon. I just feel like, that as a fandom, we don't talk about this aspect of her nearly enough.

Imagine, if you will, Hank waiting for Connor at ass fucking o'clock (for him), freezing his ass off and hoping and waiting Connor wasn't hurt, wasn't laying dead in a ditch, or burning in an alley somewhere- and then he turns and Connor's there, missing a tie, but still with that goofy Superman curl and goofy smile. He's tugging the kid into a hug by the neck before he can think twice about it, and he thinks that maybe. Just for a split second. That maybe the world ain't all bad.

Connor's nearly melted into the embrace, lax (as much as THE stiffest android he's ever met, anyways) as can be, except he suddenly tenses in Hank's arms. Hank leans back, putting distance between them, just enough to look Connor in the eye, except the deviant isn't looking at him. Instead, his wine dark eyes are fixated ahead, wide, blank, and unseeing.

"Connor? You alright?" He asks nervously.

Connor does not reply, or tilt his head, or do any of the other 300 little idle animations he does. His LED is a steady, unblinking blue. He doesn't even seem to be simulating breathing.

"Connor? Hey, talk to me, kid." He knows his voice is edging near panic, but he doesn't care, giving Connor's shoulder a little jostle.

Connor remains unresponsive for 4 seconds, and then-

his LED turns a bright, burning red, his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyelids flickering up a storm, and he starts falling backwards. Hank watches it all as if in slow motion.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey-" He yanks Connor against him, lowering him until he's cradled almost in Hank's lap. "Con, help me, what do i gotta do? I know fuck all about androids, so you're gonna have to tell me what to do here." He knows holding a hand to an android's forehead won't tell him anything, that they don't even get sick or cold, but he does it anyways just to have something to do with his hands. "I can't-fuck, just please, be ok. Don't do this to me, please-"

Connor's red LED flickers, once, twice, then holds steady for a moment before dimming slowly to nothing. Empty, grey, and lifeless.

Somewhere, far away from the icy slush and the screams bouncing off the detroit streets, Amanda snips another dead rose.

Damm, okay!

Yeah, I think shooting the deviant leader on live tv during the victory speech is surely much more impactful “last twist” than doing it in the middle off some mess where someone else could still theoretically take over the leader role (although it’s not like Connor didn’t try)

So you want that hug scene but with drama? Can’t blame you, haha

Although I’m a huge fun of something like this happening right then and where Connor resisted shooting Markus, once again during the speechtime. I mean, him shooting himself regardless of whetger or not there are Markus. Because if he can resist Amanda when Markus is alive, it’s not entirely sure why isn’t it an option when he’s alone, so shooting himself in both scenarios kinda make sense imo

[ask-pentious]

Heaven Sent Pt 2: Scrambled

In the days since he had been informed of Lute's knowledge of him, Pentious had been increasingly on edge. He worries for his eggs, for Emily, for Kayla and for himself. He finds he is distrustful of anyone on the street even if they can't tell his identity from behind his mask. He still goes out, after finding a bakery he enjoys he keeps a morning routine of getting an eclair and a black coffee. He makes sure to get Phil, Eggbert, Shelley, and Gregg their favorites too. If it weren't for his morning routine he'd barely experience paradise at all. Lately that's a word that he feels contention towards. Paradise. It seems like everyone else gets to freely enjoy the pleasures of heaven except him. He felt freer in Hell. That's ironic.

“Hello, dear, may I get the usssual?” Pentious asks the cashier.

“2 eclairs, a brownie, a cherry tart, a regular glazed doughnut, and a black coffee, right?” The cashier says with a smile.

“That'sss it, your memory is quite impeccable!” Pentious fires a smile back.

He stands out of the way, waiting for his order, a formality really, you could get anything instantaneously in Heaven, but some people prefer the simulation of living life to the instant gratification of this place. Pentious stares out the window as his order is being made. He watches the other souls freely go about their days, having conversations with angels, laughing, talking. Hanging his head a bit he wonders when it'll be his turn to be free again. Pentious's mind wanders far away from the present thinking back to the hotel and how much fun he had with Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and even Niffty when she wasn't trying to stab him. Alastor mostly kept to himself, which was fine, he never wanted to deal with Alastor's bad side again.

“Sir?” The cashier addresses him, having tried to get his attention multiple times, this is the one that snaps him back into reality.

“Oh, my dear, I'm sssorry, I wasss lost in thought. I didn't mean to hold up the line at your lovely essstablishment.” Pentious smiles softly as he takes his order from the cashier and slithers back out the door.

As he takes a sip of his coffee, he sees what he thinks is Lute flying to the top of a building, though she's out of her normal exorcist attire, her silver and white hair is unmistakable. As she flies away she see's another woman come running out looking distraught from the alley. His anxiety is peaking now, he can feel his heartbeat in his head and his body trembles. His world seems to become dream-like.

“No...no no no, I mussst get back to Misss Emily'sss house now...I have to-” his words to himself are cut off as he hears an all too familiar voice let out a pained scream. Was it for him? Was she angry and searching for him at the top of the building? There's no time to question that now, he drops the bag of treats and the coffee and quickly makes his way back to Emily's house. His morning routine now disrupted the coffee resembles a darkened blood stain on the otherwise clean streets of Heaven.

Pentious's mind is a tornado of thoughts and worries, his thoughts all beaten together and lost among the anxiety he feels.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Different kind of a killing game

[parts said by others start with their names, also this one is incredibly long and goes into post-game saiou angst]

Hina: Okay so moving from ⁠gore-discussions because this wasn’t exactly gore: Ideas for alternative motives for V3. The one that I’m thinking about very much right now is the idea of a prisoners dilemma type motive The general idea of the prisoners dilemma is: any number of prisoners in a group have an option of giving information to authorities in order to lessen their sentence. If one person gives information, they will be let off with a much shorter sentence, at the consequence of the other prisoners getting a heavier one, but if they all stay quiet, they keep the same regular length sentence. If they all expose each other, they all get the heavier sentence The idea hinges around what humans do in a situation where trust like this is involved. The best outcome for all parties is if everyone stays quiet, but if one person decides to sell them out, they’re at risk of a larger sentence So yeah, that and put it in V3

Oliver: What information would they have that monokuma would want??

Hina: It doesn’t necessarily have to be information It’s mainly the choice of whether to do what the authority figure wants at the cost of selling out the group I’d imagine it like this. Monokuma gives them a period of time to investigate and then tells them theyll be given a vote on who the mastermind is If you correctly vote the mastermind, you get to leave no consequences. If you vote incorrectly, however. The person that you voted for will die and you’re labeled their blackened. If nobody votes, you all get to continue the game without any risks So here’s the dilemma. Even if they all know with 100% certainty who the mastermind is, the mastermind can still vote wrong and kill a person, even if the rest get out And the other option is they have to trust the idea that nobody votes and they all love

Checkers: can they see who votes first?

Hina: No, They don't know who, Unless they're watching each other That's another fun part, Watching their behavior as they vote Cause I'm assuming they're voting at rhe trial podiums So they can all see each other too

[some time was spent talking about which chapter this motive should be introduced in & speculating about what would happen in the suggested scenarios, but that won't be relevant bc of a later decision]

Hina: I just xame to a beautiful discovery This would be the perfect motive for a Mastermind Shuichi AU Like it's right up his alley eith the detective thing

Oliver: IMAGINE IF IT WAS A REPEATING MOTIVE…….. you could actually make a whole death game out of that

Hina: No but did you know that's actually a second part to the prisoners dillema There's a second aspect to the prisoners dillema related to: What would happen the more times the situation was repeated Would they start working together over time realizing it's bad for them Would they use exposing each other as bargaining chips. Like. "If you let me lessen my sentence today I'll let you lessen yours tomorrow"

Oliver: I was thinking if it were a repeating motive, it could practically be the whole gimmick of the killing game. Like imagine two people die from being voted for. One blackened, and one person who gets away scot-free but killed the other person with their vote. The blackened gets caught, because Shuichi, but maybe someone else finds out who the other voter was, and kills them because the other person who died was close to them. Another trial, and then another Prisoner's Dilemma Vote

Hina: You want to know another fun idea If this is a simulation in which Shuichi doesn't care because he knows he's gonna live and is playing observer In a scenario where they've voted out blackened to die They're given the option of thus "If everyone says yes, I'll bring back half the dead participants at random. If any specific people are voted for, they will be brought back and the rest stay dead" So now it's a choice of bringing back the most people, or trying to guarantee that the person you care for most comes vack It's the reverse dilemma And there's probably people you don't want to come back so Do you really want to risk your best friend not coming back, in favor of someone you hate Mastermind can vote someone they don't want back into the ftay Imagine Kokichi gets voted out on pretenses of people suspecting him Nobody wanted to bring him back, so Shuichi used his vote to guarantee he was brought back Now there's dealing with the fact of. Hey, I'm alive again At the cost of someone who goes against mg moral code in every way being the person to do ir

I am imagining them doing the dillema as a bonus after getting the normal trial vote right so right after 4th trial would be good

this also made me think of a killing game on fully different rules, where if they fail to get away as a blackened they're not executed since the only goal is finding the mastermind. they would be doing only the mastermind vote after trials, with the option to skip, but generally, they get two chances to eliminate mastermind per chapter, first by setting up the murder, and then second if the group figured out the murder and get to vote, if somebody gets away with murder, they leave on their own, the group will be allowed to leave if mastermind is eliminated, and that's with keeping in mind that voting for someone means killing them, but they don't have to worry about being executed for getting it wrong, it's just about their morals.

Checkers: what if the mastermind is killed?

the game ends

there should be a hard limit of how many people can be voted out per trial too, so it doesn't end too fast, like "only first three votes will count, so decide quickly" or even less. I think, with the presence of mastermind being known and everyone working against them rules would be way stricter in general, mass murder wasn't allowed to begin with, here it's "you've only got one shot", it only gets reset if everyone still alive has blood on their hands (either by murder or vote) or, my first idea, was it being reset every chapter after vote, aka the killer couldn't vote in the same chapter, but the idea of everybody having blood on their hands come final chapter is spicier,

Checkers: if you vote correctly you leave and if majority votes correctly the mastermind dies?

not in my version, it's enough for one correct vote to kill the mastermind, only the first three who vote register, even if they're all skips, people who voted for someone or killed directly would break a rule and therefore be punished for getting another person killed before it's reset because of a lack of spotless

Checkers: if only the first three register then there might be a lot more panic over voting maybe they rush to vote without thinking as much so. I propose. monokuma changes the voting layout midgame, they were ready to vote and clicked really fast but didn't realize they voted wrong until it was too late

yeah, that panic is what's I was going for, they gotta be locked in and ready to get someone killed the moment voting pulls up Kokichi is a big fan of getting in a "skip" as one of those 3 but not everybody thinks like that the first time, he's just like, "oh, then we can all press skip, nice, easy." and then there's a bang.

they could [reveal who they voted for], but they're not obligated to,

Checkers: I think they would, or others might force them to say it. it prevents a lot of wasted votes/kills

they don't even know if their votes are the ones that registered until the voting is done and acted on, the votes that registered get revealed but without information who put them in, so if somebody voted the same as you just faster you wouldn't know and just think that's probably your vote, some might try to get others to vote the same as them if they're convinced somebody's the mastermind, but if they got other motives for trying to eliminate someone, they'd rather stay quiet,

I think since it's more of a cat & mouse game between mm and others, there would be messages from them included in the rewards they get, one a real hint and one misleading, they just have to decide which is which, those would replace the flashback lights I guess,

mm Shuichi would listen to what others are suggesting to him, making Kaito think that he is relying on him, but actually he's only okay with voting on Kokichi because he's planning to bring him back later, great for the plot, but not mm Shuichi would mostly just skip until he had solid evidence someone is the mastermind

Sini: The thing is, I can see some people not even voting the mastermind here. Like, someone could vote for the killer as revenge or for the safety of the group. Or, someone might vote cause they know they themselves are likely to be voted as the mastermind and they want to take the chance of being the first vote that can take the person who will vote them out as a means of saving their own skin. Like, Himiko could vote Korekiyo off for example. And the last scenario could absolutely fit Kokichi, though the question is, would he actually do that? Given how he is in game, I think he would as it is just one of the sacrifices he'd have to make in order to end the game himself

yes, you get my vision 100% what I meant by "other motives" he could still make Gonta do it, he'd tell him it's to raise their chances, but it'd be actually because he knows he himself would hesitate but also consider: he doesn't make it far enough this time too sus for his own good

Sini: Little guy dies before he can even think to do that or pull it off…

he'd get voted out as soon as the second trial, then mastermind would bring him back after the 4th, the group dynamic would be a lot different, some would probably be more willing to trust him now, knowing he's not the mm, but that too depends on how well he copes with that

somebody voted him out, in fact, most likely multiple people voted for him, and now that he's back… they expect cooperation? he teams up with Shuichi because he's the one that voted him back in, or so he says, can't fully trust that, but hopefully? more than others

I think this one vote would become public because they'd have an argument after seeing Ouma brought back and make each other admit to their votes, there was some suspicion and talking behind backs and asking each other one on one before, but this is the one where it would become a whole ordeal of peer pressure, so the brought back peeps would know who claims them (and why would anyone risk lying about that? they didn't, right? that's the last person who'll want to hurt me, right?)

if saiouma had rights I could say that Shuichi brought him back because he wanted to get to know him better, continued to wonder about the mysterious boy, it would be a second chance for them, but. Mastermind Saihara is the better explanation

I don't know, can they still have something complicated going on post-game if Saihara is the mastermind? What it would take for Kokichi to be conflicted and don't straight up hate him after they leave vr? cause being brought back wouldn't be enough and actually only make the betrayal worse

Sini: I think the only thing that could make Kokichi not fully hate Shuichi is if Shuichi had his personality and memories screwed up Like, he was made to be the mm

I dunno, I don't want it to be that, if he's altered it's a little bit, like, everyone got Enhanced to be Ultimates, but then that means they did sign up, and he volunteered to be the mastermind and he's himself with new cool knowledge and skills, but that's about it. I want Kokichi to be forced to think about his morals, to have to notice good things in Saihara who is the ringleader, made those motives, and unfortunately proven to him that none of them are better than him (remember the counter being reset by the final chapter, that's important, even though that means this one would have more chapters than canon)

he's going to have to think about how Saihara was doing a silly little social experiment knowing it's not real, while the lot of them was killing for real, thinking it'll be permanent, and how Saihara never was the blackened, and kept the game fair with the hints and lead it to the conclusion since his goal never were to keep them trapped in the hell loop, and how he cared & patched him up when he got injured

he wants to believe Saihara was just being manipulative, but it doesn't add up

Sini: I meant more like he was forced to be the mm but I see what you're saying. Maybe Kokichi doesn't hate him as much cause he sees himself to be just as awful as him? Or maybe there are aspects to Shuichi that have him feel bad for him. And yeah! He sees how he was at least fair about everything. But I'm gonna be real, I don't think Kokichi could ever forgive him or even see him in a good light. He might not fully hate him, he could give him some props for certain things, but he is still the one that made everyone do all that horrible shit. Even if it wasn't real, it felt real. It was real to them. It doesn't matter if Shuichi does actually care for him, he still manipulated him and everyone else. He would want to see the good in him, but all the stuff I mentioned could never be enough and what he's done could never just be ignored. Just because Kokichi might see himself in a similar awful light doesn't mean he's going to give Shuichi that much charity. How I see it, it could never work

I love pg Shuichi who's been neglected and clung to the comfort show, so I imagine him going far past interacting enough not to be suspicious, he's thrilled to make friends, loves having a talent and therefore finally being special enough to hold people's attention, have something to connect with them instead of just offputing people with his fannish rambles about executions and from ch5 on to the end he would be the closest to Kokichi, so he would be trying to get that back, he's attached

I am just trying to paint the picture of, memory manipulation is barely still on the table, no flashback lights, no identity changing stuff or big gaps in memory, a lot more defined rules, cards on the table about how things work, the choice being fully theirs: stay or try to leave, I'll even give you a hint. He was mostly an observer in the whole thing

Ves: much harder in on them being his friends than tsumugi is. he's actually MORE like junko in that way, huh

bro's not even giving them motives, he's getting so much blackmail material just from being able to check who voted what and he's not using it, he's just there to hang out with his friends, and maybe study their behaviour under immense stress hahaha

Hina: I like the idea of Mastermind Shuichis game being a character study

Ves: were they friends pregame [my reply] no, he had no friends, this is his idea of an ice-breaker, he's just getting to know them better this is the best way to really get to know who people are at their core, trust him, he learned a lot on the internet

Sini: So they're all the same in that they gave themselves up to DR and while responsible for their own actions, were taken advantage of by Team DR? [my reply] I guess, yeah?

Ves: he made fifteen friendship bracelets in preparation

he thought it's going to be like solving a locked room together, a nice bonding activity, it's basically the same thing if you're as desenitized to death as he was! He was helping through leaving hints! It wouldn't be fun if he made it too easy, but he did a good job adjusting the difficulty level for the group, he's a good game master he gave them a good journey on the way to the victory that was always eventual, he cheered them on

Ves: im gonna cry he's sweet in the worst possible way v3's world rlly fucks up everybody who lives in it huh everyone who 'died' is just backstage with juiceboxes he does not see the problem

Sini: Man, I feel like that would make Kokichi hate him more, if that makes any sense. At least at first, anyway. Cause he's so sad and sweet yet did the most horrible things. He doesn't see anything wrong with what he did.

"I was worried I am going to fumble and get caught early, but I am glad I was able to give everyone a good season despite my anxiousness" gives that small smile

Sini: I feel like when they get mad at him, he cries jwjhhwef He only wanted to have fun : (

Ves: kokichi how could you POSSIBLY be mad at this guy. the murder does not count as a reason

Sini: His heart definitely doesn't hurt when he makes him cry. Definitely not

Ouma lashes out at him (post game, because in game he was in too much shock to bring up personal feelings about how it affects him as an individual, instead of talking about The Whole Thing) and he's like" "but I thought- I thought that we, that you… nevermind" hides the notebook full of ideas for what they might do together now that they're out and runs away, crying

Ves: he deserves it but like that's my son my beloved son who has committed war crimes

He was SO going to ask him out if Kokichi didn't bring him back down to earth

Ves: he's borderline delusional abt all this and when he gets a healthier mindset the self hatred is gonna hit harder than even canon shuuichi

Checkers: he specifically asked the backstage ppl to give Kokichi the nice juicebox brand. That’s rly romantic right

Sini: Knowing this now, I think when Kokichi finally accepts that he made the choice to join danganronpa and that they were all in the worst mindsets when getting into the recent season will he, not forgive Shuichi, but not be so mad at him anymore. He's more angry at DR than anything. He's still uncomfortable around him, his trust issues really keep him still feeling strong about what Shuichi did to him, but he holds no real strong feelings against him. He just feels bad for him

Ves: oh is this official danganronpa? somehow i got the impression that it was a fan project like in a warehouse somewhere

it's official they all audition and get on location, their memory of getting there it's closer to thh, "I came in here, lost consciousness and then suddenly it was Like That" Shuichi didn't do anything illegal, he just hosted a season of a popular tv show and they all got juiceboxes!

Ves: they WANTED to do this fun and normal team building exercise why are they so MAD at him!!! completely unfair i think he'd get really offended if they imply he was like. faking his grief at the deaths. because he DID grieve! his tears were genuine!! just…in a nice, comfortable, cathartic sort of way. he always knew he'd be going home he cried like you cry at a sad tv show the others cried like it was real

Sini: Like that's what really pisses them off. He saw it all as a show when they saw it as reality

the disconnect is more at a level as if they were playing D&D, of course he's invested and he's sad if someone has to leave the game he's going to miss them, but they'll see each other later, it's fine. And, well, he's not happy to see his dear friends fighting or upset, obviously, but those things happen and in the end it'll all be resolved, in the matter of a few weeks at most

Ves: it's just LARPing at the end of the day. them not KNOWING that doesn't count because they asked for it to be that way. he's helping!! he's facilitating what they wanted!! he brought juiceboxes!!!!!!! tsumugi we bonded over being DMs how are you mad at me now

What if. What if they're siblings. What if one of their parents is a Team DR executive/ some higher up. What if they both auditioned for the mastermind. Pitched in their ideas. What if angry pg Tsumugi left a letter for her future self talking about her bitch ass brother stealing her chance to finally get their attention. What if post game Tsumugi lived to see said parent never visit either of them despite working in the same building. What if she saw her old self in Shuichi, nearly mirror like. What if it terrified her

Sini: Not getting the role was the best thing to happen to her…

[spectraling]

I hate what my brain just did to me, but knowing Jantje and Bo and their callous disregard for my well-being, this is what's going to happen: they're going to give us a delicious slow-burn of Maura and Eyk falling in love. It's already happening. But in the end? Eyk is not real. He's only in the simulation to lead it. He's the sea and Maura is the earth and he can never be bound to her. Just like the water loves to kiss the shore they will come together but will ultimately part, two different elements, and the sea will forever be outside of her grasp.

Since Eyk has (had) a wife, but we never find out anything about her, it's easy to see how she can be a placeholder for who his true love will come to be, or already is, considering they're in some kind of loop where things happen over and over. Maybe this is referencing a loop they've already experienced, but forgotten about. Maybe his wife killing herself and their children is a metaphor for Maura trying to sever their connection because of the pain. They have to let each other go. Fire will try to part the earth and the sea, because fire will burn down the earth. But the sea will not let it happen and extinguish the flame. Eyk will not want to let go, he will want to strive for something that is impossible to reach. That's why the captain wants to turn the ship around when everyone else wants to move on.

Also the foreshadowing of this happening being in the second episode of the entire show is right up Jantje's alley. It's vague enough that we can disregard it for now, but it will come back and punch us in the gut later on.

I think the big question of the show is going to be about what reality truly is, what is real and what is not and who decides that. I think some of the main characters are going to turn out to only be simulations in the end, but at that point we're going to have been on this huge journey with them, and they're indistinguishable from the characters that will actually be "real". The goal this entire time was to break out of the simulation, but it won't be as easy as that. They will finally live in reality, but what is a reality without the people they have grown to love? Everything they went through and everything they felt, the connections we've built between characters, will be as real as anything, to us, to them, and it will be absolutely heartbreaking, because the "real" characters are going to live on, but the simulated ones obviously will not. A bittersweet end. Just the way they like it. And I will die.

[zebee-nyx]

CalmWriMo Day 27

[11/27/2023]

Update!

Half of my sleep felt more like half awake tv static than blank screen [as it should be] last night. So brain=hemorrhaging braincells this eve. ('>v<) Anywho, wasn't a busy day at work today and I managed to get some good progress on the things today. Which among the things is today's blurb! Which came out pretty well, if I do say so myself. And I do say so! (>v<) [y'see that? there it goes... my last braincell lol]

Progress:

2 Hour Writing Goal: ✅

Blurb: [see below]

Self Care:

Food: ✅

Hydration: ❌ [whoops, forgot the translucent life sustaining fluid exists (0^0) was a bit too zoned]

Sleep: ❌

Reading: ✅

Blurb: Housing / Architecture

Holdouts

Rarely scattered across the Undercity. They are usually single or two story brick buildings that were once homes or businesses before the Great Collapse. Now they exist as relics of the past buried under the unregulated construction of the Undercity. Usually found in back alleys as oddities and landmarks. Some of them still have windows, although whether or not they were shattered varies.

Undercity Prefab Apartments

There are two primary types of prefabricated apartments in the Undercity. The first takes it's metabolist inspiration to the greatest extreme with modular capsule rooms. Each capsule is a simple empty box roughly 8ft by 12ft in size. These are the most common, being brought in with aircranes and installed onto, well basically anywhere that it won't immediately collapse. While they all have the same basic set up, the use of space varies greatly between occupants. The second type is somewhat larger with two rooms, a mixed living area and a private bathroom. These are manufactured in several parts that can easily be transported either by a aircrane or truck to site before being assembled on location. The basic interiors are more diverse with optional bed inlets and built in vending machines among other things. They also have a few different layouts that honestly just shifts where the bathroom divides the other spaces. While water isn't necessarily a rarity, decent working plumbing often is. As such about half of these apartment bathrooms in service work more as storage closets than anything else. Due to the chaotic nature of the Undercity it isn't uncommon for walls to be cut open across several apartments to better serve the needs of small local businesses, bunkhouses, or anything else people decide to build. Also it isn't uncommon for completely random structures to be made between prefabricated buildings out of whatever scrap happens to be available. Random pipes and cables running along the walls or roofs of hallways leading towards more in-structure apartments is normal. Rooms along alleys or streets usually get their utilities directly through the wall.

Midcity Apartments

Like the Undercity most of the Midcity's apartments, at least above the first few stories, are prefabricated. However, in the Midcity they usually are larger and have a more comfortable living spaces and at least one distinct bedroom. Typically the basic utilities are better maintained allowing more access to operational bathrooms, kitchens, and stationary entertainment such as televisions. Apartments in the Midcity are often built atop old retrofitted buildings that are mostly street level shops, restaurants, or other businesses.

Uppercity Luxury Apartments

The luxury apartments of the Uppercity is about what one would expect. Spacious interiors high above the rest of the city with staff or security at the simple press of a button. Usually there is one wall that has a dedicated wide screen that can simulate a curated view of the city, nature environments, or even play video media within smaller windows. Unlike nearly anywhere else in the city apartments in the Uppercity have real wooden floors. It also isn't rare for there to be a potted plant or small garden in the apartment to truly express the tenant's wealth. Amenities such as a spa, pool, and gym are usually only a brief elevator ride away. While some are equipped with kitchens for those who prefer to cook for themselves or have a personal chef, most apartments are simply equipped with an advanced vending machine that can be programmed to prepare most meals. Beyond that the only limits is the tenant's desires and space available. The result is often limited to clean modern looking spaces, however the more eccentric individuals tend to have truly unique homes. Somewhat ironically the exteriors of the majority of these buildings contrast greatly with the interiors as they often appear as little more than massive minimally featured blocks. That is aside from prime street level viewing space of these skyscrapers which are of course covered with the colorful glowing lights of advertising and art.

[Technically there is also nomad buildings, but basically just glorified rvs made literal "mobile" homes. Which may end up time’s blurb if I don’t think of anything else... Also junkyards architecture which is, well, basically garbage slapped together into shacks. ('^.^) So, uh... Anyways and always, hope that you had a lovely day, peace (ZvZ)v]

[everythingcounts2007remaster]

I have a challenge prompt: Kevin Flynn/Tron but in the universe of Black Mirror DURING the story

...I removed so much homoerotic tension from that story ahaha

Won’t lie, I’ve been letting this fic bob around in my skull for months because I love it so much. Furious and unshackled Tron + terrified but horny Flynn??? Fuck yeah.

This is set as an addition to the end of Ch 3 (after the pawnshop incident), I did my best to include all relevant information for those who haven’t read Black Mirror or for whom it’s been a while alike. :D 

CW for some abusive behavior and sexual assault oops (also this isn't nearly as carefully edited as Black Mirror itself, like all these prompts)

---

“Is there anything else we need before we go to the sea?” Tron asked from up ahead, his back to Flynn and the decaying Purgos. He was eerily nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just threatened Flynn and his program’s lives—and delighted in it. 

The blank disc shook in Flynn’s hands as he tried hard to not think of where it came from and the lengths Tron descended to to get it. He needed only to keep in mind the lesson learned: to stay the hell out of Tron’s way. “Uh. No, I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” Tron detached his light-cycle baton from his thigh, preparing to take off again, then paused. His head canted ever so slightly toward Flynn. His voice was low, deceptively conversational. “It occurs to me that I’ve told you so much, again and again, but you have yet to tell me the one thing I’d very much like to know.”

Flynn froze ahead of the question they’d been dancing around since this whole clusterfuck started. 

“Why didn’t you install her?” Tron asked, turning to face him. His eyes were dark, dead set on getting an answer this time. 

But it caught in Flynn’s throat, too big and painful and nebulous to go any further. They were going through hell to get her now, how was that not enough?

“I dunno, man,” Flynn said. The blank disc hung from his fingertips, his shoulders slack with exhaustion. 

“I think you do.” Something wicked raked across Tron’s face as he faced Flynn directly. “I’ve been thinking. About Users and their fallibility, things I never dared to consider before. That, perhaps, you never had my best interests in mind.” 

Flynn took a staggering step back to negate Tron’s slow advance. He didn’t like the look in the program’s eye, the angle of his shoulders. With all those safety permissions revoked, Tron was capable of anything—and was testing the edges of these new parameters. 

“Though, given how your program operates, I suppose that was obvious, wasn’t it?” Tron’s smile was joyless and sharp. “It makes sense now, the way you look at me.” 

Flynn bumped into the alley wall. Shit. “What?” 

“More than that, it’s in the data. I have access to your ‘heart rate,’ did you know that? ‘Respiratory rate, temperature,’ I can even see your eye dilation from here. I’ve been reviewing the data, trying to understand it. User bodies are so different from programs, you know… But I think I finally do.” 

Flynn pressed his back further into the wall, hands flat against cold simulated brick, his mouth open but wordless. This was a different sort of trap he’d stepped in this time, something he’d spent years and years ignoring for both their sakes. 

“Say it out loud, Flynn.” Tron came closer, ever closer, and planted a hand on either side of Flynn’s head to pen him in; a scenario Flynn never imagined being nightmarish. “Tell me why you look at me the way you do. Why you denied me my counterpart.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Flynn flattened himself against the wall to get any amount of space between them—and desires he’d thought long buried with everything else. “You… you don’t know what I’ve lost.” 

“Yori is at the bottom of the sea by your hand,” Tron ground out through clenched teeth, “and you want to talk to me about loss.” 

Flynn was far too agitated to keep tiptoeing through this. “You’re just a program, you have no concept of the world out there, what it’s like. How fucking horrible it can be.” How the only thing that might begin to fill the hole left behind by another could be so agonizingly out of reach. 

“Maybe I am just a program, but I’m no longer the only one trapped ‘in here.’” Tron’s voice dripped with contempt. “Remember, I followed you here, Flynn. Because you wanted me here.” 

Flynn had no interest in revisiting ancient history any longer; he was ready to skip to the end where he’d wind up with another fist to his gut or perhaps get kicked to the floor. To be the target of Tron’s aggression until he was left to limp to the sea by himself.

So, with as much acid as he could muster, Flynn said, “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly good at saying no to Users, are you.”

Tron slammed his hand against the wall, making Flynn flinch. His jaw worked in thought as he stared Flynn down, his logic processors whirring to an inevitable, horrible conclusion. “You used me. Because that’s what I was made for.” 

“Now—”

“But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? Is it ever enough?” Tron pressed himself closer, nearly flush against Flynn’s chest. Heat came off him in waves; he was overworking himself. “What would it take for it to be enough, Flynn?” 

There was pressure, gradual, alarming in its intimacy; Tron’s thigh pressed to Flynn’s groin, coaxing his legs apart. 

“Please don’t,” gasped Flynn, eyes shut tight.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Tron hissed in his ear, his thigh both threat and temptation. “Or is this not how you pictured it.” 

Flynn bit back a curse and winced. Part of him—an obvious part of him, provided Tron knew as much about human anatomy as his encroaching thigh suggested—found the danger he was in rather thrilling. 

In any other universe, Flynn would agree. 

“Hm. I guess that’s my answer.” Tron pulled back just enough to take Flynn’s chin in his hand, its firmness indistinguishable between fury and fervor. His laugh was caustic, cruel. “I want you to know: all you had to do was ask. I’d have leapt at the chance.” 

Everything in Flynn twisted at that, his hands sweating despite feeling so cold and light, like a balloon far out of reach. The instant Tron started to back off, Flynn shoved him the rest of the way. His cheeks burned as Tron laughed.

“Fuck you, man,” Flynn spat, uselessly swatting the unshackled program away. “Fuck you.” 

With a final glance to confirm his victory, Tron unholstered his baton and rezzed his light-cycle. A few seconds later he was gone, and Flynn was left alone in the dank alley, resentment and longing mixing bitterly in his chest. 

Tron wasn’t wrong, was he? There was more than one reason Flynn had cast Yori to the sea floor uninstalled, and why he’d delayed in porting her over in the first place. It was an ugly truth, one so petty and selfish that acknowledging it too long risked shattering his sense of self completely. Because he wasn’t like that, not really, not overall, not with real people.

But now this knowledge was in Tron’s hands, same as any other weapon—and Flynn, at his mercy. 

[legendaryvermin]

Who the **** Is Legendary Vermin?

Greetings internet wanderer! You can call me Vermin/Elvie and I'm a game designer, actual play streamer, and ttrpg cretin lurking around twitter, twitch, youtube and now tumblr!

I have work on itch.io that has everything from medium weight tactical RPGs, to lyric games, to goofy erotic larps. Most stuff is either free or pay what you can, and anything that has a set price point also has a barrel of Community Copies that refill whenever someone buys the game outright. https://legendary-vermin.itch.io/

I'm also an AP streamer who shows up predominantly on Neon Lights Roleplay! I've been in everything from high-fantasy games, to Resident Evil style horror games, and you can find VODs of my work here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUYBnjyXT3Cp4KTnM1gqrVI4S9-k1FUhL A couple of highlights:

Games Stuff

Alley-Oop!

Alley-Oop! is a game I wrote with my wife in 2019 that is based on the WNBA's trip into the Wubble, a recreation center that was closed to the public, allowing the players to play in relative safety in spite of the dangerous early days of the pandemic. It was also inspired by the rise of Blaseball and Marbula One, and the idea that we as humans are really good at taking totally random noise and creating exciting stories by giving otherwise meaningless objects their own personalities.

As such, the game isn't about simulating basketball as much as it is about commentating it, and then deciding who these players are based on how the dice fall. Oh, and those dice? They are your players! Yeah! The pink d4 is Ollie Orion, and she's in the running for rookie of the year! But it's been hard for her to concentrate because she recently had a break up with that orange d10 on the other team. Maybe after this round of basketball, you and your friends will RP a scene between the two of them, where they have to shoot a commercial together. Maybe their love will be reignited?????

Alley-Oop! is also one of only a couple of games I wrote that got a print run, and the book is Gorgeous!!

Æthernet

Far and away one of my most popular games, Æthernet asks the question "What if, in the far future when humanity travels the stars and the internet is immersive VR, someone accidentally opened a rift to another dimension in the internet, and turned the internet into a literal digital hellscape?" and follows that question up with "What if we had to do dungeon crawls there as part of the gig economy?" Inspired by Doom (duh) and dozens of stories about the intersection of Magic and Technology, Æthernet is a small version of a game I want to make Very Large one day.

No Amount Of Armor: Ashcan Edition

I will probably talk about this game a ton here, but No Amount of Armor is my diet-tactics story-driven mecha RPG that takes you to the razor's edge of warfare. Mechanically, it sits between heavy tactical games like Lancer and fully story driven games like Firebrands, giving players the tools to embody characters that feel like they have a stake in the world, and build mechs that feel like they can throw a punch to level a building.

Right now, this game is still in development, and you are invited to give feedback and help shape the game's final form!

Actual Play Highlights

You can watch any of the shows I've been in on the youtube playlist above, but here are some finished Series that are digestible and fun!

Resident Evil: Catalyst

A game of The Company made for The Top Shelf in three parts! It follows a group of engineers, scientists and soldiers in the wake of an early break out of a combination of a G-Virus and Las Plagas. It ends in tragedy in one of the highest stakes conversations I've ever had the pleasure to participate in in TRPG.

Under Twilit Skies

Under Twilit Skies came together as a charity stream, and became so much more than that. At its core is the very real pain of living under state violence, and the need to fight back.

5 talented pilots fight against the empire that colonized, brutalized, killed and created them. 4 episodes of high octane, high drama mecha action in Armour Astir: Advent.

[ask-royalspider]

Losing Q

588 words | TW Blood, Death

It was supposed to be a normal night. Hell, it was supposed to be a good night. Qarisma messaged Prince that she was going on a date with some guy she'd met at the local roller rink. And after listening to her be single for 2 years, Prince was more than elated and pushing her keep in contact with him.

The night was quiet, but they expected that. Q was on a date, mom and dad were downstairs, and the other kid in the house, their brother, was in his room. It was calm, their own music gentle as they typed away their homework.

Unfortunately, crime never takes a break as they hear 3 police cars whizz by their window. Shutting their laptop, they sigh, stretching.

"Couldn't let me finish my homework, huh?"

They speak to no one in particular, jogging over to their door. "I'm finished homework, I'm headin' to bed!" They call, getting delayed responses from each family member. Suiting up, they pull on their mask and Vans, webbing out the window.

Getting to the crime scene, it's a small diner. Armed robbery. Two of three are in custody, the other having made a break for it. Prince scoffs, following the hooded assailant as they hid in the shadows. They lower themselves silently, shooting webs at the person's hands and feet.

"Robbing a diner? Are you hungry? There are shelters all around the city."

The robber struggles, glowering. "Fuck off! It's none of your damn business!!"

Prince hums, dropping to the ground and swiping their leg across the robber's, them hitting the ground with a grunt. "I dunno, you interrupted my quiet evening. Think it makes it my business."

And before they could get another word in, Prince knocks them out.

° ° °

Bringing the robber back to the cops, they pass an alleyway briefly, their spider sense crashing into them like a boulder. It was loud and panic inducing, a sense of dread washing over them quickly. What..? Why, what, they got the bad guy, was there another..?

They hand the unconscious robber to the authorities, stalking towards the alley. Their panic came in waves, heart pumping in their ears. What were they getting themselves into..?

And then they heard laboured breathing and their blood ran cold. Laying before them, holding her abdomen, was Q. Qarisma. She- no no no no no-

They slide up to her side, mind blank and alarm bells blaring. Cradling her, they tear their mask off, tears already forming in their eyes. "No.. no no no, Q what.. what happened, where's your date??"

She blinked quickly upon hearing Prince's voice, gasping softly. "I.. they were going to.. this little boy.. I couldn't just watch.."

Prince shook their head, unable to think. How did she get here?? How long has she been here?! How did no one see her?!

"I- I'll get you to an ambulance!! You'll- you'll be oka-"

Qarisma touches Prince's arm gently, reaching up to their face. Cupping it gently, she could only muster a half smile. "Prince.." she mutters, gathering their attention.

"I.. It's so cold.." she says, shattering their entire perception of reality. She looked like that's not what she wanted to say, but her time was mete seconds away.

"I'm so sorry..." She whispered, hand falling away from their face. What followed was a minute of silence, Prince begging for this to be a nightmare, begging for it to be some terrible simulation they were somehow kidnapped into.

But once it sank in, they fell apart at the seams, sobbing Q's hair. How could they live with themselves? Live with the fact that she was gone, that they were too late? Sorries fell from their mouth into her dampened hair, body limp and unmoving.

Eventually, a paramedic found her laying alone, a shadow cast over her from above. But when looking for the source, nothing was there..