#technically one or two years old just like the doctor is in the canon timeline

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 16] Mr. Human!

[ckneal]

So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre��like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next. 

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

[danwhobrowses]

MCU: 10 Ways WandaVision and Falcon & The Winter Soldier are the Same

So now we have 2 of Marvel's Phase 3.5 shows in the books, and both have been pretty great. In the 7 week wait for Loki though we'll have time to mull things over.

When watching the Falcon & Winter Soldier finale though, I started to notice that there were some patterns between it and Wandavision. While two completely different stories they did share some similar beats, so here's 10 I spotted and thus 10 to look out for when Loki comes around.

Spoilers for WandaVision and Falcon & The Winter Soldier, give it a watch before you give this a look

10 - Villains become Memes

While one can contest that Zemo acts more as an antihero in The Falcon & the Winter Soldier, he still provides an antagonistic edge in the story. However, both he and Agatha became villains that had charisma to charm the audience, and their actions brought about multiple memes. On Agatha's side there was the wink, Agatha All Along and her in the fitness outfit, while with Zemo there was the 'it captures the experience', his iconic dancing and Turkish Delight. While not a story beat on the shows, the writers must've known that fans would gravitate to these characters to give them such content to use. Also add a hat tip to John Walker who got his own memes too with him about to embed the shield into a dude's chest, and Wanda herself for her nose scrunch being used as a meme alongside Thor's 'is it though?'.

9 - The Government aren't exactly helpful

While the Government aren't entirely the enemy in the show, they don't do well to stay on our heroes' good side. In WandaVision, they enhance Wanda's grief in the fact that she can't even lay him to rest, SWORD instead deciding that her lover is government property and they are harvesting his 'organs' and vibranium skin as a resource to use for weapons. On Falcon & Winter Soldier, the US Government deliberately deceive Sam by having him hand over the shield to put in a museum, only to then take it out and give it to John Walker without even telling Sam or Bucky about it. In addition when they disavow Walker they try to reclaim the Shield - which, as the Contessa does reveal, isn't technically their property either. While Falcon & Winter Soldier delved deeper into the government's lack of help through the GDC subplot motivating the Flag Smashers, there were still similarities found with how SWORD - which is quite different to its comic version - antagonizes Wanda. In the end all this escalates because of them, and in the end neither of them get to keep the Vibranium.

8 - 'Good Person' is Bad Guy

Although there's a more supernatural threat in both stories, the characters end up having their trust betrayed by people they believed to be decent. For WandaVision it is current Director of SWORD, Director Hayward, who appears adamant in silencing Wanda after using her as a means to power up White Vision as a programmable weapon. For Falcon & the Winter Soldier, it's Sharon Carter - descendant of Steve's beau who he also made out with - the discarded agent who gave up a lot for the heroes only to not get it in return, remaining enemy of the state and becoming the Power Broker. The shows can also have this reserved for 'Agnes' and John Walker but in the end people expected them to break bad from day 1. You could make a statement for Wanda since she looks to be an antagonist for Doctor Strange 2 though.

7 - The MCU add a little history

Marvel has had a habit of changing Wanda's (and Pietro's) origin on a whim, the MCU deciding to source their powers on an Infinity Stone. Doing this however left a gap in the fact that Wanda is a Witch, which they cleaned up in WandaVision. Treading back on the Scarlet Witch being a mantle (though cutting her mother being a Scarlet Witch before her) as it is in the comics, they changed Wanda's powers from being latent and amplified by the stone rather than gifted to the stone itself. Falcon & Winter Soldier added to their history with the impactful Truth: Red, White and Black story, adding Isaiah Bradley into the MCU to further layer the conflict and tragedy Sam faces with being Captain America. Both are welcome additions to the MCU timeline, setting up for newer things to come in Phase 4 Movies.

6 - The hero wins the fight, but not the day

Winning isn't always winning, as Wanda and Sam would discover upon the finale of their respective shows. Wanda defeats Agatha and Hayward is forced to face his crimes, but she has also come to terms with the face that the Hex must go, and in turn her family with it. While the Hex has freed all its residents, Wanda knows that she's not on anyone's good side either with the people she subconsciously enslaved. Sam gets it a little better, he's recognized himself as Captain America and given a patented 'Cap-speech', but he was unable to save Karli Morgenthau from being killed, someone who he was once so close to reaching and sympathized heavily with. Although the Super Soldier threat is neutralized, the Flag Smashers' ideals will live on to further radicalize itself, and its vision will further sow conflict and division.

5 - (Mostly) Bigger Roles for old MCU Side Characters

Never one to shy past their crossovers, Wandavision and Falcon & the Winter Soldier both brought back side characters - some more obscure than others - from older films to gel into the plot. WandaVision brought back Darcy from the Thor franchise and Jimmy Woo from Ant Man & the Wasp to great comedic effect, fans already wanting a spin-off with them and possibly Monica - who may also count but technically not the same actress, the same can be said for 'Pietro' too. Falcon & the Winter Soldier stayed primarily in their lane of Captain America movies; with Batroc and Sharon both debuting in Winter Soldier and Dora Milaje's Ayo debuting in Civil War, while it was less comedic, the story was more interwoven with them since they all had ties to the main two characters.

4 - [Person] is obviously [Character]

Possibly a bit of a narrative backdrop, or maybe years of MCU has clued us in on a plot twist a mile away, but both shows also were unable to hide well that Agnes from WandaVision and Sharon from Falcon & Winter Soldier were in fact Agatha Harkness and the Power Broker. It's not to say that knowing ruined the story, it just felt more of a 'when' rather than an 'if'. The main difference though is that Sharon managed to keep her villainy secret, and remains that way, while Agatha went too far in trying to take Wanda's power rather than help her with it and has now become stuck as Agnes instead.

3 - New Blood coming on the Hero Scene

While the shows already did their job in setting up Wanda and Sam as big league heroes, they also looked a bit more in establishing new blood too. WandaVision established the potential for the twin Maximoff boys to grow into Wiccan and Speed - once Wanda finds a way to re-canonize them, Falcon & the Winter Soldier also made sure to introduce Elijah Bradley, Isaiah's grandson, which may also aid in establishing a Young Avengers team - what with Kate Bishop also soon to appear in Hawkeye. WandaVision also created the origin for Monica Rambeau, having her body altered by the Hex, which will likely be furthered in Captain Marvel 2, Falcon & the Winter Soldier also established John Walker as the US Agent to leave a potential for Thunderbolts, as well as introducing Joaquin Torres - opening the possibility to have a new Falcon. While not a bad thing to set up for the future, it is interesting that both shows had exactly 3 names that could become future heroes.

2 - 'Villain' character partly redeems themselves after a Grief-Fuelled Mistake

Make no mistake, technically speaking Wanda is still a villain in WandaVision: she enslaved an entire town and suppressed them as side characters of a tv show. But the thing is that she didn't really intend to cause pain, it was an impulse action triggered by her grief. The same can be said for John Walker in Falcon & the Winter Soldier, he was already pressured by the standards being Captain America would entail and he was feeling the stress of a string of failures, a Dora Milaje humbling and a frosty reception from Steve's two close friends, juiced up on Super Soldier serum, and then his best friend just got killed because he didn't back him up, in a rage he killed a Flag Smasher with the shield - even though they were fleeing and not the one who killed Lemar, which he would lie about to Lemar's family. Despite this though, they managed to find some form of redemption, even if it was small. Wanda released the Hex and stopped Agatha from going haywire with her chaos magic, John gave up on his revenge seeking to save a truck from falling. Even though it doesn't entirely make up for what they did, it was at least a sign that they had not completely gone off the deep end...yet.

1 - Comic-Accurate Costumes

Comic costumes are always a tough one because some of the older costumes were borderline atrocious. WandaVision at the very least managed to poke fun at it with them dressing up most of the Maximoff/Vision family in their comic-accurate costumes, Speed getting a few more nods in the finale alongside Wanda's revamped and quite on the money look. In Falcon & Winter Soldier, there was accurate costuming for John Walker's US Agent look and Sam's Captain America costume, not to mention Lemar's Battlestar outfit, Zemo's mask and Batroc's jumpsuit.

Overall, it's not a bad thing that they kept these story beats, but it may be worth trying to avoid some of these in later tv show plot points so that it doesn't appear repetitive and formulaic. These shows have been great, so let's keep that momentum going.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

46?

46-Share a scene of a story that you haven’t published yet

Alright

The thing about my writing is I rarely write ahead, and mostly take it week by week and chapter by chapter

That being said, I can share bits and pieces of ideas I have for future fics?

-I have planned out like five sequels to this one fic I’m writing (you can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090165/chapters/60778606 )

-In one of them, twelve year old Virgil hits a being of pure darkness in the face with a lacrosse stick.

-Also

“I’m disconnected from time-”

“Same.”

“My parents are robots-”

“Mood.”

“And my boyfriend is magic!”

“Aww! Logan, that’s just how college is sometimes.”

“What? No! I’m having memories of an alternate reality, my dad burnt his hand and wires came out, and Patton exploded a sink with his mind.”

-Also, in another fic Grifter’s Bone is just The Mechanisms. 

-Seriously, I have too much extended canon (fanon? Not sure how to refer to headcanons about my own fanfic) about Dear Whoever I Love Today, and a lot of it ties into the woods being Evil.

-Oh, remember the concept of Nevermore from the School For Good And Evil series? I was really disappointed at how little it was incorporated into the series, so if I ever write that School For Good And Evil AU

Buckle up kids, we’re going to the inferno!

-I Was Sent To The Empty Two Fucking Times, And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt

-”Think Bonnie And Clyde. Now worse and on fire.”

-Another thing I disliked about School For Good And Evil was how it made it seem like romantic love was the most powerful type of love, more important than the love of family and friends.

Well, the medallion says that’s dumb, so we’re not going to do that.

-Desolation!Roman (I really, really, really love this concept. If only I could draw and it didn’t look like potatoes)

-CECIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want to write a fic about the Orange Side’s introduction before it comes out in canon, but I know I won’t complete it in time.

-Also, what exactly did Doctor Strange see in his viewing of 14,000,000 timelines? Come find out! There will be Ironstrange.

-I love inserting random uncanny valley things into my fics and waiting to see who notices.

-Finally, here’s a teaser trailer for my Sanders Sides FBI AU: 

On the first of April, a spaceship crashed in a cornfield in Maine.

It’s a mystery how it got there, and the survivor of the crash isn’t talking.

According to official records, that spacecraft never existed. Technically, Maine doesn’t either, but that’s beside the point. Coincidentally, the six people who died in the crash don’t appear on any official records either.

The only member of the crew who is anything more than a ghost to the United States government is the one who survived the non-existent crash in not-Maine.

His name is Thomas Sanders, and it wasn’t even the first time he’d almost died that week.

Hope you enjoyed these ramblings! I promise it looks so much better in my brain than actually rambled about. 

[official-cisphobe]

i highly admire your worldbuilding skills. can you tell us more about your OCs and their universe?

this is probably gonna be a bit lengthy so strap in! (edit: it is very lengthy)

the basics of Voidverse, like I explained earlier, is that there is a group of people tethered to each other by fate and higher forces, the purpose of the Alts is that they are a sort of keeper of balance between worlds and each of them is a sort of savour or hero in their respective timeline/universe. They weren't always aware of each other but when a great danger threatens all multiverses and all life they have to come together to defeat it—they do this with the help of someone called Katalin Huerta who has an ability called The Bridge ie she can create 'bridges' to other timelines/universes from wherever she is.

Technically the main character of Voidverse is Classic the Demon aka Classic, who is sort of a butterfly effect to get both the Alts and the end of the world running. but more about that later, I'll explain the other characters first.

anyway this ended up being super long so added a Read More to not take oevr anyone’s dash akdhsfsfg

Jojo - already explained

Leoh Yu - Leoh aka Badger is probably the most normal Alt out of all of them concidering he's not a demon or any sort of supernatural or sci-fi creature. Leoh grew up in Dazhai, China in the late 1970's to late 1980's with his mother and grandmother where they owned a farm and a bakery. His life took a turn when his mother got very sick and his family couldn't afford good doctors or treatments. at some point in the way of making money Leoh at 18-years-old was approached by a group of hitmen to recruit him, which after some time and thinking he accepted. Leoh worked as a hitman for about 30 years before retiring at age 40 to get married to his now husband Nico Mahariel as well as adopting a babygirl named Qing-Qiu. Leoh's past, however, will not let him go that easy but that's a story for another time.

Tuyja - Tuyja was a prophet of the Goddess Ghalme in an ancient civilisation called the Weykha. the Weykha lived in a sandstone kingdom and it is rumoured that they are where the legends of mermaids and Atlantis came from. Tyuja however was not of the Weykha people, instead she was born from the stars with ocean blue skin and horns made from spacedust. She was regarded as a sort of next in command from the Royal family and was basically treated as an extention of the Royal family (if not even higher than them), which infuriated the jealous Weykha prince. Tuyja had also fallen in love with a servant girl called Muza, which the Prince had used as leverage against her and turned the Weykha people against her, telling them that Tuyja would steal all their gold and jewellery and give it to a servant girl, that he had heard her say she would strip the skies of moon and star so that Muza would shine the brightest, that he had seen her tame ocean waves so that the servant girl could pick sea shells from the sand below. Tuyja had become a threat to the people who had praised her and come to her for guidance, they had banished her into the sea for 5000 years.

Quiet - named after one of my friends because I really like teir name and I've had difficulties naming this character for years, Quiet was born and raised in a lab where they were subjected to varieties of cruel and inhumane experiments going as far as getting permanent damage to their ribs and lungs. in canon Quiet only got their name after joining the Alts, Jojo who became their closest friend nicknamed them Quiet because they're,,, well,,, really quiet. ngl their story and character arc is on the undeveloped side

Lotus Draqon - Lotus is a half-human half-dragon who grew up outside his pack of origin because his mother Jupiter wasn't sure how the Matriarchs would react to Lotus' half-human trait. The dragons are an ancient people of long ago with vast magical abilities and lived in harmony with mortals, sharing their magic with them—until an evil was awakening and the Gods began to tear down entire cities. Mortals expected and begged the dragons to help them survive but the Matriarchs decided to abandon them, priotising the dragon's survival. They lived in isolation and hiding, shielded in a deep forest by magic for thousands of years. until Lotus as a young adult decided it was time for him to leave the nest and see the world. Jupiter was reluctant but Lotus was determined to never again live in fear. In time Lotus would become a very important figure to both the dragon and the mortals inhabiting the lands as dark forces began to matirialise and the Matriarchs became restless, declaring war against mortals.

Voidkeeper - demons are very hard to kill creatures, no regular blade or bullet with damage them much beyond cuts and bruises. the most efficient way to kill a demon is for one to end their own life which by Satan's rule is forbidden. It has happened technically two times but the first one was by a demon now known only as the Voidkeeper. After ending their own life as punishment their horns and tail were cut off, their magic taken away, and they were banished to the Void forever. Slyly they managed to grab some of their depleted magic and put it into a magical stone for safekeeping, it is only a very limited amount but can do very wondrous and powerful things things. The Void grants the Voidkeeper clairvoyance as to what is going on in whichever timeline and universe, they are a sort of silent watcher and will never interfere with the goingonabouts of the mortals. the Voidkeeper has a very minor but very important part to play in regards to the Alts and the saving of all life in the multiverse but for now they are patiently waiting and watching.

and finally there's our boy Class whose story is undoubtedly the most developed out of all of these so let's go through it:

Classic is a minor demon and was born at a time when the Underworld and the Human world were not so separate. He was born in a tiny demon village of about 15-20 inhabitants. His father had left him and his mother when Classic was about three years old and has not been seen since, Classic doesn't know if his father is dead or alive and doesn't really care about it either. Classic was an only child and pretty much a mama's boy, although he had a few friends in his village. Unfortunately his life changed forever at 12 years old when human soldiers pillaged his home, killing everyone—Classic would have been dead as well but his mother used her dying breath to save him with magic.

Classic had been knocked out during the raid but when he awoke he witnessed the aftermath of a bloodbath. Scared and alone and unsure of what to do he ran away from the scene and travelled days across the country until he stumbled upon a town of humans. Wrath overcoming his senses he murdered the entire town, leaving no human alive, going as far as tearing down entire houses and setting the entire place on fire.

Classic was later found in the ruins of that town crying by a group of angels. He was taken by them to a city in the sky and adopted by a family of angels. He wasn't generally liked by his neighbours but the angel child he lived with became his best friend for years to come. They grew up together, learned to use their different magicks together, Classic learned he could even materialise wings and fly albeit badly at first.

But as history has shown, wherever Classic goes, terror follows.

Classic had been having nightmares for months, very terrible ones, of dark forces beyond his understanding. They felt familiar and cruel, almost mocking.

Before he realised what he had done, the angel he spent his childhood with was dead and there was blood on his hands. Just like before, as if on instinct he ran away from the city of angels and went into hiding. Multiple years had passed by now and the human world was very different from what he remembered. It was no longer that easy to stay out of the radar of humans, since they were pretty much everywhere with cameras and police.

To say he was causing issues in the human world would be an understatement. He would steal, break into houses, even kill to survive. Random fires would start and radiation with no apparent source would appear all over.

This is where Katalin Huerta comes in—see, she is a commander of a very special branch of task force, it was her own creation. Her people dealt with supernatural oddities and threats, it was govrrment funded but entirely indepentant from their meddling albeit they can be difficult to please. Katalin was born with special abilities, a sort of family tradition—at birth her soul was bonded with that of a powerful spirit that had once been one with the soul of Katalin's mother. The spirit gave her the ability to control and create fire but her own speciality was her Bridge ability.

anyway, Katalin had taken notice of the strange indicents around town and taken some of her people to go check it out, only to find a teenaged demon crawling in an abondoned factory. She could tell the demon was just afraid and lost and decided to help him. Which is how Classic joined her task force.

Which honestly was probably the best thing that had happened to Classic, Katalin taught him to fight and better utilise his demon magic as well as taught him to use a sword (Classic has never understood guns and will never attempt to). Learning spells with a human was a difficult task but eventually they figured it out. Classic's natural abilities worked very strongly as illusion based magic as well as materialisation, although the latter has been more tricky to master even after all these years so as we speak Classic's only materialisation spells are his wings as well as his sword and teleportation.

Eventually the darkness haunting Classic began to rear its head again, Katalin catches wind of this and fortunately can help him keep it out from his head yet it still lingers in the air and grows stronger.

until now Classic had never before talked about the darkness. but at this point he was cornered and Katalin wouldn't take no for an answer.

At that point in time all Classic knew about the darkness was that it was some sort of ancient entity, it wasn't a demon because its presence felt entirely different from at least the demons Classic was used to. He nicknamed it Ash, as all he could remember from the times it has appeared are the ashes left by roaring embers.

In reality the darkness is one of the five forgotten gods of an ancient people. It was cast aside by the Creator and exiled from the land of gods. The darkness hates mortal life because of the gods' love for them, so it seeks to destroy all that is living. in its weakened state it needs a vessel to succeed and has been corrupting Classic and molding him into that vessel since that day he turned 12-years-old.

Only the Alts can defeat the darkness, whether Ash stays defeated is only a matter of time.

[sheliesshattered]

Fic meme

I was tagged by @primarybufferpanel​ -- thank you darling, this was a ton of fun to do!

This got a bit long, so I’ll put the people I’m tagging here at the top:  @claraaoswald​, @ambitious-witch​, @someillplanetreigns​, and @junoinferno​, if you feel like playing!

My AO3, my old non-updating fanfiction.net

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Oh lord. I’m only going to count fanfiction that has actually been posted, but if I tried to count up every fandom that I’d started writing for and left unfinished fragments languishing on various harddrives and googledocs over the years, it’d be at least double this list. I have two pseuds on AO3, with the fics roughly organized by fandoms that I post about on this Tumblr account (sheliesshattered) and fandoms that pre-date my time on Tumblr that I don’t post about very much (glasscannon). Putting all the fandoms together in one alphabetized list:

Black Sails - 5 Doctor Who - 8 Firefly/Serenity - 1 Game of Thrones - 1 The Hobbit - 1 The Hunger Games - 1 Iron Man - 2 Law & Order: Criminal Intent - 1 Mad Max - 2 Once Upon A Time - 1 Poldark - 3 Star Wars - 3 Twilight - 7 The West Wing - 1

Number of fics: 38, including a big unfinished epic that I never moved over from ff.n, and don’t plan to unless I finish it someday.

Fics I spent more time on: I’m not even quite sure how to measure this. I’m a slow writer, and a single story can easily hold my attention for years at a time, or be something I return to when there isn’t a newer fandom temporarily consuming me. I don’t tend to keep track of how many hours I put into a fanfic, though. The unfinished epic I mentioned is probably near the top of that list, and was a huge part of my life from 2009 to 2013. Other contenders would be the All Hands series (written with PBP!), and Truth Universally Acknowledged, particularly if you include all the massive world-building that went into that one. 

But really probably the one I’ve poured the most hours into, between research and writing, is a Doctor Who epic that hasn’t yet seen the light of day, called Home The Long Way ‘Round. Because I have such a habit of starting long stories and then not finishing them, I’m making myself get that one completely done before I post any of it to AO3, so I don’t have anything to show for it yet, but I’ve put a ton of time into it over the last five years or so. Hopefully someday I’ll actually get to share it. :)

Fics I spent less time on: Like I said, I’m a very slow writer, so any time I can turn out a story in a matter of days I’m just absolutely shocked. I wrote The Message over the course of about 24 hours, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever finished anything in my life ever, lol.

Longest fic: The All Hands series is sitting at 126,800 words, and PBP and I have more finished for it that we’re hoping to post soon-ish. The unfinished epic made it to almost 119,000 words before I ran out of steam. Truth Universally Acknowledged racked up about 54,000 words before my co-writer and I took a break from it, and probably triple that in world-building bibles and timelines, etc. On the works-in-progress side of things, Home The Long Way ‘Round is sitting at about 40,000 words currently and only about a third of the way done, and the For As Long As We Get series is at 21,000 words between what I’ve posted and what I’m still working on, and will definitely continue to grow.

Shortest story: 10 Seconds, at 208 words. Also one of the very first fanfics I ever finished and posted online.

Most hits: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by like a factor of 20 vs anything else I have on AO3. It’s the only time I’ve written for the main pairing in an active fandom (tho my purview in the co-writing was more on the secondary pairing), and that translated to a stupidly large number of hits. Fanfiction.net doesn’t count hits the same way, but the unfinished epic is sitting at about 3500 favs.

Most kudos: Setting The Stuns’ls, the first in the All Hands series -- which is SHOCKING considering that’s a tiny rowboat of a fandom, for a non-canon background pairing that has literally about 30 seconds of shared screentime, and the two romantic leads don’t so much as kiss over the course of 94,000 words (longing looks, significant hand-touches, mutual pining, definitely, but kissing, not so much).

Most bookmarks: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by a long shot.

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: I don’t tend to edit a story once it’s been posted, beyond correcting a typo or adding a missed word. Once it’s published, it’s finished and I don’t change it significantly. I do have quite a few (so, so many) unfinished stories that I would love to finish up at some point.

Total words combined: Counting only published fics, including the unfinished epic (and a companion piece for it) that lives only on ff.n, I’m currently at 376,542 words total.

Fav fic you wrote: How can you make me choose between my children like this, honestly?? Siiiigh. I’m with PBP, whatever I’m working on currently is usually my favorite. I’m having a ton of fun with For As Long As We Get, and can’t wait to publish the next part of that, hopefully sometime this month. I’m incredibly proud of All Hands, and that occupied such a specific time in my life that I’ll always think of it fondly. I’m exceptionally happy with the character voices and use of language in both Breathe Again and Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself, Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face, and tend to feel like they don’t get enough love vs how much I love them. But my one true favorite is and will always be Home The Long Way ‘Round, and hopefully I’ll actually be able to finish it and post it someday.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: Again, how can I possibly choose just one?? Even just within the Doctor Who fandom, I currently have more than half a dozen stories actively in progress. But since I’ve talked it up so much without being able to link to it at all, and just declared it my all-time fav, I’m going to break one of my own rules and post the whole first chapter (eek!) of Home The Long Way ‘Round behind a read more:

Chapter 1: Orange Dreams

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head Can you feel it coming back? Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running ‘til we’re there. We're coming home now, we’re coming home now. —Home, Dotan

 The winds shrieked and howled around her. Clara had never been in a tornado, but she imagined it would feel like this to stand in the eye of one. She could see gusts lifting the tops off the sand dunes in shimmering ribbons, gold against the orange sky. The waves of airborne sand dissipated a few feet from her, leaving only a jagged grittiness in the air.

A woman with long blonde hair was yelling at her, her words ripped away by the wind.

“Tell me again!” Clara called back to her. “Tell me how to find home!”

“It’s just physics!” the other woman shouted, taking a step closer; they were nearly the same height. “No information can ever be lost! Start from zero, and run the math! We’ll be waiting on the other end of that equation!”

There was something Clara desperately wanted to tell this woman who looked at her with kindness behind the steel of her eyes, but in that moment, the words wouldn’t come.

“Look!” someone yelled behind Clara, and though she didn’t want to take her eyes off her, she instinctively looked up, following the line of the other person’s arm up into the gathering storm-whipped dusk. There, silhouetted against the last of the light, was the unmistakable blue boxy shape of the Doctor’s TARDIS, spinning quickly as it flew away—

Clara jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, already sitting up and pulling off her sleep mask before she realised what had woken her was the sound of the TARDIS materialising in the sitting room of her flat. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to hold onto the details of the dream. In the other room, the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing and groaning came to a stop with a soft thud, followed by the squeak of the door.

“Doctor?” Clara called, not bothering to hide the sleep nor the annoyance in her voice.

He poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, grey hair awry and his most innocent expression plastered on — which meant he knew he was waking her and felt at least marginally bad about it. “Hello, Clara. It’s Wednesday,” he said pleasantly, by way of explanation.

“Is it?” she asked, deadpan.

“Technically.”

“You do know that I have to work today, don’t you?”

“Not for another six hours. So come on, up-and-at-‘em, plenty of time to go out and save the universe and still be back in time for your morning coffee. I’ve an adventure that simply won’t keep, so come on!”

His excitement was infectious, as he must have known it would be, but Clara clung to her annoyance a little longer, mostly for show. “You have a time machine: everything can keep,” she replied, but waved him off before he could launch into a lecture on all the ways that statement was false, at least from a temporal physics standpoint. He lectured anyway, hovering outside her bedroom door as she dressed, though Clara expected it was mostly to keep himself from pacing in anticipation. She followed more than half of it, and worried a bit over how often she let him babble on about the minutiae of time travel these days.

By the time the universe had been set to rights — or at least one small blue world, home to a race of sentient seahorses, that had been facing imminent extinction in the form of a rogue exoplanet — she had nearly forgotten her unsettling, vivid dream.

--

Given the recent events on Skaro, Clara was unsurprised when bits of her experiences there began to filter into her dreams. Truthfully, she had expected to dream of it more often than she did, but in the weeks that followed, more nights than not her sleeping mind instead conjured up the strange orange landscape. She revisited that screaming sandstorm so often it became almost comforting, and before long, other dreams joined it. 

Clara was leaned against a railing on a high balcony, overlooking a large city coming alight as dusk crept on, a rusty sunset that stretched the width of the horizon bathing the world in amber. The woman with the serious eyes and long, straight blonde hair stood beside her, in the middle of a conversation, as happened so frequently in dreams.

“Alright, but what about the last stage?” Clara asked, elbows resting next to hers on the railing. “That bit depends on us actively doing something, and you know we can’t rely on my knowledge. I can’t take any of the engineering or navigation with me, so it’ll be down to him.”

“And he loves a good puzzle,” the other woman said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her head. “He’ll want to find us. He’ll figure it out.”

“Before I die of old age? Are you sure? My mother was one of his professors at the Academy, I’ve seen his test scores. I think we need a fail-safe.”

“He did graduate,” she pointed out reasonably.

“He passed his exams with a fifty-one percent on his second attempt! No, we can’t assume he’ll have all the baseline information to even consider such a solution, much less actually accomplish the maths. We have to find some way to hide it with me,” Clara said. “Or in his TARDIS.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, her mouth set in a thoughtful line. On the distant horizon, the sun had finished its slow descent, but below them the city was coming to life, the light not so much fading as changing sources, becoming ever so slightly more golden.

“By that point in the timeline,” the blonde woman said, speaking slowly, still thinking it through, “you’ll have been exposed to his timestream and to the crack in the universe, so some of your memories will probably start leaking through. If we structure the extraction the right way, we might be able to embed a particular thought or moment into your consciousness before you go into the Schism.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Clara asked, turning her head to look at her.

“This conversation?” she suggested, laughing, her broad smile transforming her face. “No, a phrase would be cleaner, I think.”

“‘Run the math, you idiot boy’?” Clara suggested, also giggling.

“Oh yes, that’d go over well! No, if you want him to do something, call him clever. Works every time!” she laughed, leaning her shoulder into Clara’s.

“The horrid thing is that I know the temporal physics for this is part of my mother’s coursework,” Clara groaned. “If he hadn’t slept through so many of her classes, this would be a non-issue!”

“Ah, but a Doctor who was always responsible? What a boring universe that would be!”

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, though the glare of the city obscured them. Through the haze of the dream, Clara couldn’t find any constellations she recognised. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was the one who helped him steal that box in the first place.”

“And if he could take half a moment to remember that,” the blonde woman said seriously, “he might realise the role of his TARDIS in all of this, and start to think of the solution that way.”

“‘Run the math, you—”

“Clever.”

“—boy, and remember when you met me’?”

The other woman nodded, considering. “That could do it. Your chronodeterminate conjugation won’t work until you come into contact with at least a little regeneration energy. Assuming you choose regeneration on Trenzalore, it might start kicking in then, in plenty of time for the last stage.”

“Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me,” Clara whispered up to the distant stars, cradling her chin on her arms against the railing.

The woman mimicked her position, the golden light of the city and the silver light of the stars catching in her long pale hair. “It’s just physics,” she murmured back. “Start from zero and run the math. I’ll be waiting at the other end of that equation. We’ll all be waiting.”

--

As unsettling as they were, at least the orange-tinged dreams were better than nightmares of Daleks, of being locked in the Dalek casing, unable to convince the Doctor that it was her, it was her, she wasn’t a Dalek, she wasn’t a Dalek! Dreams of the Doctor peering at her down an eyestock, this face or the last, or any of the others buried deep in her subconscious, hearing her but not knowing her, seeing her but not saving her.

Clara grasped for that orange sky, let it carry her away in bronze sandstorms, golden cities slowly coming to life, and starlight caught in tawny hair.

--

Monday morning third period found her Year 10 students taking an essay exam while Clara doodled on a scrap piece of paper, trying to pull images and phrases out of the orange haze that had taken up residence in her slumbering hours since Skaro. There were bits that tugged at her memory, like a song she couldn’t quite place but whose tune was intensely familiar.

She’d written Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me across the top of the page, and her eyes strayed to it every few seconds. The phrase had stayed with her after she woke, and had been on the tip of her tongue ever since, as though it was a message she was meant to deliver. Below it she’d rewritten the phrase, but crossed out six words: Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me.

It was too close for comfort to the phrase that had, in retrospect, changed her life, sent her on her current course. The Maitlands’ mnemonic for their wifi password, which she’d said out loud during that first phone conversation with the Doctor, had caught his attention somehow, and it wasn’t until she jumped into his timestream that she understood. It was the last thing she’d said to him before sacrificing herself to save him. Every fragment of her scattered through his timestream had said it to him at some point as well, the words reverberating endlessly up and down his timeline.

Why her dreams would dredge it up now, and in such a strange context, Clara had no idea. They didn’t feel like random images, but more like memory-dreams, like the bits of echo lives that filtered through to her sleeping mind from time to time. It had to mean something.

Half way down the scrap paper she’d written: It’s just physics. Start from zero and run the math. Below this was the very helpful ??? and Clara idly traced over the question marks again. Physics was still a foreign language to her, despite how much the Doctor prattled on about it at times. She could bring this to him, she mused, but what was it, really? Her subconscious doing backflips in the wake of Skaro, that was all. No grand mystery to solve, no universe-altering secret code, just her. She wouldn’t bother the Doctor with this quite yet.

Besides, she was certain she could tease this apart on her own, follow the clues to their logical conclusion without his assistance. The dreams were insistent, and felt familiar, but Clara was sure she’d never dreamed of the blonde woman and the orange sky prior to Skaro. That was the next clue, then, and she jotted it down on her scrap paper. Something had changed after Skaro, something that caused her subconscious mind to dredge up these particular buried memories. 

She needed more information. Dreams about her echo lives were always stronger when she was aboard the TARDIS travelling in the Vortex, sharper and easier to remember. Maybe these orange dreams would be, too. And maybe the TARDIS itself would have some answers for her.

--

Of course, she didn’t sleep aboard the TARDIS very often, with her insistence on returning home for a week of Real Life in between their Wednesday trips. But the Doctor was never adverse to her sticking around longer than she’d planned, and in the end it didn’t take much to convince him: 

“I’ve a staff meeting at work that I’m dreading,” Clara told him on that next Wednesday, when they returned to the TARDIS after their latest outing. “So what do you say I have a little kip and then we squeeze in another adventure before you take me back to face my workday?”

She thought for a moment that the Doctor might question the change in their routine, but he seemed thrilled about the idea. When he announced that he had some tinkering with the engines he’d been putting off that should keep him occupied while she slept, Clara made an excuse to linger in the console room — “just going to finish reading this chapter, then off to bed” — until after he’d gone. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor and around a corner, she quietly set aside her book, then slipped out of her armchair and down the stairs towards the console. The rotors hummed overhead, and somehow Clara knew the TARDIS was aware of her, and was curious to see what she would do.

Carefully clearing her thoughts, she made her way over to the telepathic circuits, pushed up her sleeves, and slid her hands into the strange interface. Focus was the key, she knew, and she was nothing if not focused. She closed her eyes and held two very specific thoughts in her mind: the sand-whipped orange sky in her dreams, and the clear question, Where, please?

She hoped the please would help.

It was a long quiet moment with the circuits warmly cradling Clara’s fingers, and then something on the console beeped. Her eyes flew open and she carefully extracted her hands from the telepathic interface before pulling the monitor down to eye level.

Gallifrey the screen read in English, below an image of a startlingly red-orange planet. Immediately prior to the Time Lock.

Clara felt her heart thud painfully against her ribs as she read the brief text again. She’d been dreaming of Gallifrey? She knew she’d had an echo life on Gallifrey, but she remembered that interaction with the Doctor, and it happened indoors. She had never before dreamt of the Gallifreyan sky. Had it been buried somewhere in her subconscious with the rest of her memories of that life? Why surface now?

More confused than ever, she clicked the screen back to the desktop, unreadable Circular Gallifreyan floating idly across the display. Perhaps she should bring this up with the Doctor — it was his home world, after all. But the whole point of this had been to dream while they were in the Vortex, and if she didn’t get a move on, he’d be ready for their next adventure before she’d even managed to fall asleep. She could talk with him about it later. 

And if things worked tonight as she hoped they would, maybe she would even have a bit more information to bring to him when she did.

--

“Fire suppressant in Pod Four!” 

The frantic call was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of the requested suppressant dispensing from the ceiling. When it ended, the speaker, dressed in the dark red uniform of a technician, brushed soot and foam off his shirt. 

“It hates me, that one,” he said, nodding at the unassuming gray cylinder in the open pod in front of him. It was devoid of features, even its doors invisible now in the wake of the fire, two meters tall and one meter in diameter, just like all the other patients in the workshop. But somehow it did seem to be glowering at him.

“And it always will, stop wasting your time,” his coworker said flippantly. He was perched in front of a console on the other side of the room, deep in his own repairs. “Just get the Impossible Girl to do it, she’ll have it eating out of her hand by lunchtime.”

Their conversation occurred in the time it took Clara to enter the large oblong workshop and make her way to the far end where the two were working. “I heard that,” she said seriously, earning a guilty-looking jump from the man who had spoken most recently. She continued over to Pod Four and leaned against the outer casing, arms folded over her uniformed chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. “What did you do now?” she demanded of the first technician.

He looked at her with wide eyes, more out of genuine fear than mock innocence, in her estimation. “I just told it—”

“You what?” she snapped, in a tone she usually reserved for misbehaving students.

He wilted a little but started again “…I told it to—”

“Told it?”

“…to give me access to the logs,” he mumbled, dropping her gaze.

“Told it to give you access to the logs?” she asked, voice harsh. “Well first off, Number Four here prefers male pronouns, respecting that might put you on better footing. And secondly, as with all TARDISes, you’ll get a lot further if you ask rather than tell.”

Behind her, the other tech scoffed. “They’re machines, we shouldn’t have to baby them like that. An access request is an access request.”

Clara turned her head to pin him with an icy glare. “Some days I cannot believe I let you work here,” she told him bluntly. “They aren’t just machines, as you very well know. Yes, there’s hardware we need to be able to work with, but that’s nothing more than a radio, at some level — only instead of radio waves, we’re using oswin waves to talk to pan-dimensional beings so large, they can’t have a physical form in this dimension. Who, with a little extra energy, can take us and an infinite amount of folded space to nearly any point in spacetime. Just think about the massive intelligences that speak to us through each of those machines!

“But more to the point,” she said, turning back to the tech still covered in soot, “you have to understand their viewpoint of the universe, and their understanding of time. A Time Lord telling a TARDIS what to do is akin to creating a fixed point in spacetime. It’s in their nature to want to avoid fixed points. Ask instead, let him find his own way ‘round to it.”

Before the beleaguered technician could reply, there came a polite knocking from the far end of the room, and Clara turned to see a soldier standing in the doorway of the workshop, looking a little out of his depth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for—” he paused to glance down at the datapad in his hand, “for the Oswin. From the Lady President. Top priority.”

Clara was moving towards him before he’d finished speaking, curious and concerned, her attention focused on the message in his hands. But the dream faded out before she reached him, her mind moving on to something more abstract, more difficult to hold on to.

When she woke in her bed aboard the TARDIS, she stared at the ceiling with fond frustration. “If that was your attempt at help,” she whispered to the ship, “then I do not understand the message.”

--

It still wasn’t enough to bring to the Doctor, she decided later that day, watching him spin around the console room in the afterglow of a successful adventure, people saved, the universe bettered. So she was dreaming of Gallifrey, what of it? Many of the details in that last dream matched up with what she remembered of her interaction with the Doctor in that life. And while he occasionally enjoyed comparing memories of all the times her echoes had met him, she’d found he wasn’t especially keen on discussing the one in which she’d helped him steal the TARDIS and leave Gallifrey. Susan continued to be a point of pain for the Doctor, all these centuries later, and Clara understood him well enough to know better than to pick at that particular scab.

Still. That phrase was on a loop in her head: run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me. The emphasis on their meeting hadn’t been part of the original phrase, and now she was dreaming of the life in which they’d met face to face for the first time, from the Doctor’s perspective. Clearly they would have to discuss it at some point. 

Eventually, but not yet.

[violetsmoak]

No Safety or Surprise [Part I - Excerpt]

Summary: A haunting broadcast reveals the Joker’s final act and sets off a chain of events that will destroy the world. Terry finds himself collaborating once more with the estranged members of Bruce’s former team. As the end nears, however, he and the other Bats are faced with hard choices about survival—and forgiveness.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do with Batman. I don’t make any money off this. It’s just me playing in a sandbox. (And I’ll put a better disclaimer on this at some other point.)

Author’s Note: First fic in the Batman universe, yay! (Well, second, but the first one was high school ago and was a blatant self-insert lol). I’ve been toying with this idea for a while now. It’s taken some in-depth planning, but I finally have something to show for it. This is only one part of a very large first chapter, but I thought I’d throw it out there into cyberspace and see what people think. I’ll post it here in mini excerpts, but eventually I’ll put it on FF.Net and Ao3, once it’s all shiny and edited.

Spoilers: Everything in Batman Beyond until but not including the “Rewired” storyline or anything afterward. Also, references to events and characters present in the DC ‘verse up to the New 52 (after the “Robin Rises” story arc) but before Rebirth. (And JFC do I hate keeping all these timelines straight!)

Warnings: Leading up to canon-divergence; eventual main character deaths (except not really, because timey wimey stuff); a few minor original characters; multiple POVs

Timeline: Takes place after the events of 10 000 Clowns but before Terry McGinnis graduates high school.

Bruce is beginning to wonder if a Lazarus Pit might not have been a better idea than the liver transplant. Of the methods for artificially prolonging life, at least with the Pit, he would eventually start to feel like he was recovering.

After the madness subsided, at least.

On days like today—when it’s damp and chilly, and there’s nothing going on in Gotham to keep him glued to the computer screen in the Cave—it’s hard to remember the arguments he’s always made against using the restorative powers of a Lazarus Pit. He body protests with every movement as he eases it through several slowed kata variations. Part of his physical therapy, as suggested (ordered) by his doctors.

Since his procedure, he feels the exhaustion much more keenly. It’s a bone-deep fatigue that seeps into every muscle, emphasizing the way his bones creak and grind against each other, cartilage worn away from age and decades of abuse. It’s the way his energy levels drain so much faster no, to the extent that even his usual ability to will himself into action seems to wane every day.

Not that he really had a choice in the matter. He was in end stage liver failure, and the nearest Pit is in New Cuba. He’d just been lucky that there was a suitable donor in the hospital at the right time.

‘Luck’ is one word for it. ‘Cruel irony’ might be a better phrase.

Douglas Tan is one of the names he’s going to carry on his conscience for the rest of his life; or, at least on his liver.

Terry still makes jokes about Batman having a piece of a Joker inside him, but then Terry tends to use humor to cover up when he’s worried. Dick always did that, too; and Jason.

Bruce scowls, bothered by the direction of his thoughts, as well as the raggedness to his breath. He isn’t even moving very fast, but it’s taking him every bit of strength to keep at it.

Ace is curled up in his usual spot in the cave, watching Bruce with what seems to be narrowed eyes. As if to say, don’t overdo it or I will knock you over.

He knows the dog is smarter than most people.

Ace is one of the reasons the doctors were willing to leave him to pursue recovery on his own and not under some beady-eyed nurse in hospital. Money isn’t as much an incentive as it once was, with so many legal and health standards in the way; the older he gets, the less likely people are to trust his ability to make decisions, lawyers or not.

He tolerated a private nurse for about a day while having Terry make other arrangements and manufacturing a piece of paper saying Ace was a certified service dog. He’s not, but Bruce has no doubt the dog would activate the medical alert button at the computer if something were to happen. And Terry has an alarm set up, keyed into the surveillance and motion sensors in the Cave. If anything were to happen, he can be here faster than any ambulance.

Old age has fed into long-buried fears, and it gives him an embarrassing sense of relief knowing there’s someone to look in on him. It has always bothered him, being dependent—being weak.

Some days he’s more accepting of it; some days he wishes he had Kryptonian DNA.

Which is usually the point at which he forces himself to occupy his mind with other things, because envying Clark Kent can only lead down a dark, frustrating path of self-pity. One he’s determinedly avoided ever since meeting the other man.

After another fifteen minutes of forcing himself to think about nothing but the movement of his limbs, Bruce finally finishes his exercises. Sweat coats his back and his limbs ache with the same burn as if he just spent several hours grappling through the Gotham skyline. Even if it took less challenging movements to reach this point, that burn is comforting.

Familiar.

And that’s a word that’s been cropping up more in his thoughts lately. History tends to repeat, after all, but it’s still strange to experience. Terry’s been an excellent example of that.

Like Bruce, the McGinnis boy started out with nothing but a suit and an old man’s voice in his ear. Now, he’s got a network. Friends who he trusts and who will keep his secret. A steadily growing list of allies in the field.

The Police Commissioner. The Justice League.

And a Catwoman too, for Christ sakes.

He wonders what Selina would think about that.

Bruce just hopes the kid won’t make his mistakes. Forty years is a long time to rack up regrets.

At least Dick’s back in contact now.

Sort of.

He showed up the second night that Bruce was recovering from his procedure at the hospital; he’d managed to convince Terry to go out on patrol instead of wasting his time watching an old man sleep.

“Batman doesn’t get a day off.”

Bruce had dosed for a bit, but not deeply; it wasn’t difficult to discern that he wasn’t alone.  

One minute the room was empty and in the next, Bruce could feel that familiar presence—the one of a man who had carried the mantles of Robin, Nightwing and Batman—and somehow lived to tell the tale. Then his estranged son was stepping out of the shadows, glaring down at him, muscles in his jaw working and fists clenching and unclenching.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Bruce had croaked, wishing he had thought to ask for ice chips before the nurse left. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

The silence hanging afterward was filled with everything he couldn’t say yet. For once, Dick didn’t call him on it.

“You’re more stubborn than God,” his boy countered.

(He’ll always be a boy to Bruce, grey hair and eye-patch be damned.)

And yet, he sat, arms crossed and spine stiff for the rest of the night. Still angry, but there nonetheless. He stayed until morning rounds without saying anything, and then left.

They haven’t seen each other since, but sometimes Bruce can hear feedback on the comms when he’s directing Terry’s patrols. The tinny whisper of signals crossing from the bug he pretends he doesn’t know Dick planted on the underside of his medical ID tag.

It’s not much, but it’s something. The opening of the possibility that at some point, he’ll come around.

Barbara did, after all.

Mostly because of Terry, but afterward Bruce started making the effort. They can have conversations alone now that don’t end with her yelling at him (or punching him, on one or two memorable occasions). Bruce forgot how much he enjoyed her sense of humor and intelligence—how much he enjoyed their friendship—from before they slept together.

(That might be one of his life’s biggest shames. Oh, he has regrets associated with all of the family for one thing or another, but this is the one that still wakes him up at night feeling dirty.)

In a way, it’s easier with Tim, and that’s a bridge Bruce thought had been obliterated long ago.

Granted, he’s leaving Gotham again—the last incident with the Joker army rattled him enough that he put in for a transfer to the Chinese division of Wayne Enterprises—but he stuck around long enough to collaborate with Bruce on a subdermal antitoxin deployment implant against Joker venom.

(None of them want to be caught unawares again.)

It’s in the prototype phase, with only five of the devices in existence; he, Tim and Terry are testing them personally. It’s not exactly something the FDA is going to approve for human testing anytime soon, not with all the new legislation, but with the state of Gotham, it’s unwise to wait on it.

(He sent one to Barbara and one to Dick but doesn’t know if they’ve bothered to activate them. At least they haven’t sent them back.)

If the implant works, Bruce is seriously considering modifying the tech for the Wayne Enterprises medical division. There are a lot of illnesses and viruses out there which require regular dosages of medicine to keep them under control.

Maybe that’s the next project, after CAIN, he muses, grabbing his towel from where he draped it over one of the computer processors.

His global Clean Air Initiative Network is something he’d been working on before stepping back from the company. It was shelved almost immediately by Derek Powers when he took over, but since Bruce has been back, he’s been revisiting a lot of old projects.

Lucius’ boy did most of the technical work on it, and Foxtecha will have joint ownership of the patent when it’s ready for public consumption. Bruce would have asked Tim, but he knows how determined he is to get out of Gotham. He can read it in the tone of his emails, which have thankfully lost the stilted, formal business tone they’ve had since he returned to the company.

(Bruce mentioned paying a visit in the future, and Tim didn’t say no, so he counts that as a win.)

It’s a little disconcerting how the family is coming together again; disconcerting but welcome.

He’s received a vid call last week from Cassandra expressing concern over his surgery, and then a short, gruff email from Duke all-but ordering him to get better. There’s even a letter from Stephanie—or Eurus, as she goes by these days—smelling of dust and desert sun and incense found only in Nanda Parbat. Her messy, looping scrawl, echoed Dick’s sentiment about Bruce’s stubbornness and alluded to its genetic inheritability.

(That said more than if she had actually mentioned Damian outright.)

Bruce lost track of her not long after his son’s short and brutal stint under the cowl; it had surprised him to find out she ended up in Tibet.

It also relieved him. Because no matter how dark a path his son wandered, there would be someone to challenge him. To not obey without question. To give him a link to the life he once had, to being human and alive.

(Bruce very carefully doesn’t think about Jason—doesn’t wonder if things had been different, if he wouldn’t have reached out as well. Even after so many years, that wound is still raw.)

The whole thing is a stark difference from the last few times he ended up in the hospital, including when he was dosed on Joker venom several months ago. He didn’t hear anything from them at that point, which makes him think someone really thought he was dying this time and reached out.

Barbara, maybe. Or Dick. However much tension there is between himself and Bruce, he does keep in touch with the others.

Hell, it might even have been Terry. The kid doesn’t know the rest of them personally, but he’s gotten adept at navigating the computer in the cave. And he’s always been curious about his predecessors.

Bruce’s first family.

Or maybe just the first phase of the family.

Bruce shies away from that secret bit of knowledge he has about Terry, and his brother Matt. What he discovered the first time the kid returned to the Cave with bloody gashes that needed stitching up. The files and medical information buried beneath every firewall he could fashion, so the boy never stumbles upon it accidentally.

The most he’s allowed himself to acknowledge it is an amendment in his will setting aside trust funds for both boys.

As if triggered by his thoughts, the screen of the Bat-Computer flickers to life. He rolls his shoulders, expecting an alert on some heist or robbery going on in the city; another case to add to the docket for Terry to investigate after school (depending on the severity).

Bruce doesn’t expect the Cave to suddenly fill with a jaunty, haunting carnival tune that makes his entire body seize in recognition. And yet, he already knows what’s coming even before the words HA HA HA coalesce upon the screen.  

TBC

NEXT

[valentineblaze]

Endgame Spoilers

Listen up people I am here to rant.

Tony Stark is effing amazing and I love every second of his gilded trashbag life. But this was just a killer. Dad Tony was everything I wanted and more let me tell ya. I love you 3000 is freaking heartbreaking. I have no issue with his arc in the movie at all even if the end does cause me to break out into back breaking sobs because fuck you. If Tony is going to die by gauntlet then you had better be damn sure everyone he even peripherally gave a damn about is going to make it through this fight. Natasha, Gamora, Loki, and every single Asgardian Tony could remember would have been brought back because that man is the definition of all or nothing.

What I have issues with is the sheer lack of world building we get in this movie. Honestly its the Snap and the only glimpse of this Post apocalyptic world is group Therapy and Remembrance walls. As well as several miscellaneous flashbacks to Hawk-eyes surprise family? That not even comic fans are super attached too because they were literally made up probably for male man pain. Where was the atmosphere? Where was the drama? Where was the angst? Post snap was quite honestly not heart wrenchingly rendered into a suitable level of grief. It just wasn't. I expected break downs and rage. All I got was three seconds of Natasha tears as she has let someone else tracking down her soulbro. And a Tony Stark screaming at Captain America. This movie just told us what was happening didn't show us what was happening. It was piss poor story boarding.

Then there was the character development. Like wow. We get all these new and amazing side characters in which you could have fleshed out and made us root for and you just throw them to the sea like chum. -Captain marvel is just not there at all, she gets a gratuituous girl power scene which was random and then she gets slapped to the ground never to get up? Right after she take a head butt without a single flinch. You can small Thanos's fear right then. -Rocket gets to slap Thor? Thats it thats his most memorable moment other the holding Nebula's hand. -Rhodey has some of the best lines but no development or follow up. -Nebula there is so much happening off screen that it physically hurts me. She is amazing. I adore her. I want a series of her. Nebula is my bitch bea. I found a new hoe to die for and it is she. She is my new ride or die. Found family and redemption arcs come at me. -Sam and Bucky both get maybe two lines a piece and that just irks me.

Time travel... yes bitch I am always there for time travel hijinks and drama but honestly five minutes of a single episode of leverage had more heist feels then this three hour train wreck. It might have been the lack of a great soundtrack but it just wasn't that compelling to watch. I'm also really confused about the time travel thearory in this shit because they kept going back on thier own writing through out the movie (cough cough STEVE cough) I'm a fan of we rewrite the future by affecting the past. Butterfly effect is my Jam. This alternate reality thing is fun yes but it can't really be that because they may create alternate realities okay? then if there was the need for pym particals for time travel to occur how did Thanos's big ass army get enough to travel through time to the future? Because the avengers were out or at least low regardless of Steve's thievery and Nebula only had the one from my understanding. Also if changing the reality makes a new reality how the fuck was Steve in this reality.

Bruce , Bruce, Bruce. My beautiful green rage monster and yoga doctorate what have they done to you. What is going on. Why are you so cheerful. Why are you at peace. I hate to say it but go back. Why are we still doing this Nat/Bruce ship? It is so random. I just can't see it. Fandom can trick me into it for a few chapters but not forever.  Ya'll should have taken a hint from Ragnorok give me that personality and it would have been a win. Shock and dismay was my only emotions when it came to this mess.

My constant rage with this series is pick up an effin comic book. Sit down watch a cartoon. If anyone is going to become a human disaster post Snap its going to be effin Hawkeye. Like yay Ronin cool but what the actual fuck. Why did you come at me like that? Hawkeye is not your edgy overlord. He probably would have died ages ago with out the female influences in his life. He has regular dates with dumpsters.  I'm sure he even has a ranking system for prefered dumpsters to end up in after a beat down. Yes he is startlingly competent but even he doesn't know how he does it half the time. He eats food off the floor and thinks expiration dates are guidelines.

Thor was a new one. They threw me for a loop. One this man needs a hug. Two, why is no one hugging him? His rampant depression and weight gain shouldn't have been the butt of jokes. There should have been some honest concern and meaningful conversations with the living not the dead. Thor never doubted his mother's love. That was never up for debate. Thor is not to blame for the snap. Thor will give no fucks if he messes up the timeline if it means his family is alive and together. Especially post Ragnarok. Also I could have sworn Thanos killed every asguardian on his ship at the beginning of infinity war? How is Valkyrie alive? Why would Thor decide to go to space?

I’m not even gonna touch on the Black Widow for this one. I’m just not gonna go there. Blind rage doesn’t even cover it.

Howard Stark. Wow just wow I thought I was having some weird ass delusion. That man is scum. Comic canon scum. One of the smartest men on the planet yes, revolutionary war hero technically yes, great father and overall good human being? Hell to the no. Tony literally named his A.I. after Jarvis, cried over the death of J.A.R.V.I.S,  I would have expected a quiet chat about fatherhood and marriage and how it can make the best out of any man (he hopes)  before I got a conversation with dear old dad.

Why can’t Tony and Steve have one friendly conversation? A sense of camaraderie? Anything? Why is that so hard?

Steve "fight me" Rogers what has MCU done to you? I'm supposed to believe that you would have left Bucky Barnes to Hydra's hands for over 70 years. Im supposed to believe that you would have been in the past and had no interactions with Howard Stark. Im supposed to believe that the you married the Director of Shield and you didn't wax poetry about the amazing woman that diegned to marry you every damn day of your life? This woman on her deathbed told you she lived a long and fulfilled life and that you should move on to have the same happiness as she and you did what? That he wouldn't have dismantled every last bit of Hydra. That he would just let Natasha and Tony die because of that shitty delusional grape? The disrespect STEVEN the disRESPECT! I am a Stony stan for sure but hell if I don't respect Peggy Carter. So yay steve gets his happy cis gendered ending but what about the rest of em?

[mal-likes-biscuits]

@ mod, first, your winter outfit is stylish and adorable. Second, what are your favourite ships? And third, when did you first start writing? (If it's alright to ask this)

1. But, are you aware of just how nerdy my scarf is? I’m going to be sad when this one wears out, because I bought it custom at an art sale and I can’t remember the artist who made it.

I am about 300% nerdier than I even appear online. That’s an approximate %. 

2. I’m a weird person with ships because I really enjoy friendship & family stories, so I don’t automatically seek ships out. And I’m also really content to let let characters have relationships that aren’t explained too much. (Which you’ll see in my writing, that there’s lots of implied stuff, behind the scenes.) This is part of why I love Pacific Rim so much, because it hits many of those elements perfectly.

But, I’ve had a few favorites over the years. Here’s some I can think of:

I was a huge Star Wars fan back in the day of the Expanded Universe, and you couldn’t pry Myn Donos and Gara Petothel/Lara Notsil from my bare hands. I was so stoked when I found out they became a canon couple and actually got a happy ending. How’s that for obscure? (Also, if you haven’t read the Rogue/Wraith Squadron books, particularly the latter, just…do it. For the love of the Force, do it. It’ll explain where a lot of my writing preferences come from.)

Daine and Numair, from Tamora Pierce’s books. Freaking hell I loved those two. The age difference sort of weirds me out a bit now, but I can forgive that with how much I like how their relationship was characterized.

I am an incorrigible Ana and Reinhardt old-couple-shipper and you can never convince me otherwise. It would have to happen later in the story timeline, but damn it, they’re adorable in all the fanart.

I accidentally made an OTP in my own writing that I ship so hard it’s like I’m not even shipping my writing goddamn it I even commission fanart of it

3. I’ve been writing for a very long time. I remember being like…7 and writing a story about Thomas the Tank Engine. Me and fanfic, we go back a ways. I started actively writing fanfic when I was ~12. Lots of Star Trek, lots of Digimon, lots of Star Wars. (I was one of those freak kids who was reading adult Star Wars novels in Grade 3. It was my super power.) Only a tiny bit of it ended up online as dial-up internet had just appeared. I don’t have any of this writing anymore due to computer crashes and I’m honestly choked about that.

My first real online fandom was Forgotten Realms. I wrote a lot of Artemis Entreri stuff. It’s no longer online, but that was my start. I was probably 16 or 17? About the same time is when I began writing original work. I don’t have any extensive formal training in fiction writing. I took a couple university classes, and have since done professional development/conferences, but most of my writing training is in technical or academic writing. Everything I know about writing fiction I essentially learned through writing fanfic (poorly, at first, very poorly).

Between then and now, which is about 15 years, I wrote for Thunderbirds, Death Note, Naruto, Doctor Who, and a little bit of Harry Potter (I had a giant Snape backstory fic that I never finished and got shelved). I also wrote a few things for Howl’s Moving Castle and Angelic Layer that were never posted online because I sort of just petered out on them. Death Note was definitely my biggest fandom in terms of reach/hit count/favorites, and I’m still extremely fond of one of the stories. It’s 11 years old, but hey, still good I think: you can see some of the elements of my current writing style already in place.

I started submitting and publishing original material about 5 years ago. So I had been writing actively for almost 15 years before I sold anything. I’m still working on re-writing and selling the novel that I had thought would be my first sale. It turns out I have a better knack at short stories than I do longer work. Writing Act 4 has taught me a lot about structuring longer stories. 

My plan is to finish writing Series 2 and then go back to working on my novel. It’s very similar in style in terms of how I write characters, the type of story, etc. Except it’s SF with fantasy elements. 

But for anyone wondering the hidden question of “how long have you been writing to become a proficient writer”, the answer is: quite awhile. I’m old. I’ve probably written almost 500,000 words of fiction in fanfic alone. Quantity teaches you over time, not quality. Practice, practice, practice. Lots will be crap. Lots will turn out good. :3

[emjenenla]

I'm Holding On; Why is Everything so Heavy? [a SoC Fanfic]

Modern AU. Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

Warnings: violence, panic attacks, PTSD, mentions of car accidents, near drowning, sex trafficking

Title: I'm Holding On; Why is Everything so Heavy?

Author: Emjen Enla (Fanfiction)/emjenenla (Tumblr)

Teaser: Modern AU. Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

Rating: PG-13/T

Canon/Timeline: Modern AU; same general time frame as SoC (Kaz is seventeen, Jordie is four years older which means he’s twenty-one)

Dominant Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jordie Rietveld, appearances by Jesper Fahey, Nina Zenik, Alina Starkov, Per Haskell, mentions of Pekka Rollins, Jan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck, Mal Oretsev, one OC, various others

Pairings: technically more Kaz & Inej friendship than legitimate Kanej, mentions of Wesper

Warnings: violence, panic attacks, PTSD, mentions of car accidents, near drowning, sex trafficking

Notes:

- Long story short, I became obsessed with the idea of Kaz in a hoodie riding a subway with earbuds in so no one would try to talk to him and this fic happened. I hope you all enjoy. :)

-Special thanks to wylanvanwreck on AO3 and their story The Mighty Dregs as well as a post by @crows-and-co. Both formed the basis of the thought experiment that became Kaz in this AU.

-Also, why is Jordie in the Fanfiction archive character list as Joshie R.?

Disclaimer: I don���t own Six of Crows or “Heavy” by Linkin Park (the song I got the title from)

--

Kaz knew that his day was officially a bust when he had a panic attack in third period.

Okay, technically he didn’t have a panic attack in third period. He realized it was going to happen and fled to the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall and waited until he could breathe again. The bathroom was thankfully empty. If someone heard him, one of two horrible things would happen; he’s be pitied or mocked. He’d lost a lot of his bully shielding when he’d cleaned up his school presence during the switch to high school. That change had been necessary both for Jordie’s peace of mind and to keep Kaz Rietveld and the Dregs lieutenant Brekker separate. Of course, that meant that he’d gone from that scary kid who smoked weed behind the school to a crippled AP student who no one thought could fight back.

Even worse than bullies would be if some well-meaning student told the nurse. Marya Hendriks was one of the nicest people on earth and she meant well, but if she figured out about the panic attacks she’d tell Jordie. Kaz had been hiding his admittedly shaky mental health from Jordie basically since the accident that killed their parents. He knew that was a bad idea in the long run, but it didn’t change the fact that therapy and meds cost money which was something the tragically orphaned Rietveld brothers did not have.

So he hid alone in the bathroom until almost the end of the class period before he admitted to himself that he had to go back. He felt shaky and a little panicky, but he was standing by the sink washing his hands when Jesper came in.

“What are you doing here?” Kaz asked. “You’re supposed to be in class.”

“So are you,” Jesper said. “You’ve been gone a long time. Are you sick?”

Jesper was Kaz’s oldest friend, though they didn’t spend as much time together as they once had. If asked Kaz would blame that on Jesper starting to date Wylan, though he knew it was at least partially because of the Dregs and the ever-lengthening list of things that Jesper didn’t know about.

“I’m fine,” Kaz said drying his hands and brushing past the other boy. “Did Dryden manage to explain anything today?”

“I don’t understand it,” Jesper said. “And neither does anyone else. Can you tutor me after school?”

“Lunch or tomorrow morning,” Kaz said. “I’m busy tonight.”

“Fine, lunch then,” Jesper sighed. He liked to have his lunch periods and he hated getting up early. “I honestly don’t get how you’re the only one who doesn’t get confused by Dryden. Everyone else is struggling.”

“That’s because I’ve long since accepted that Dryden doesn’t know how to do algebra and I don’t try to understand what he’s teaching,” Kaz said. “I still get all the right answers, so there’s nothing he can do to me.”

They reached the algebra classroom. Kaz’s bad leg was killing him after all the time spent curled up in the bathroom stall. He really should have been using a cane, but when the injury had first happened he’d refused. He’d come around to it after joining the Dregs because it turned out a cane was a pretty good weapon. Unfortunately, since the cane was now connected to Brekker, Kaz Rietveld couldn’t start using one.

Kaz opened the door just as the bell rang and students began pour out. He stuffed his hands into the big pocket of his black hoodie and tried not to hunch his shoulders to obviously. Touch aversion was on the list of things he’d pretended to get over to keep from worrying Jordie, in reality it was hard to shake the horror of being trapped with his parents’ bodies in a car that was slowly filling with water. The negligent and painful treatment he’d received from the doctors afterwards hadn’t helped either.

Kaz twisted his hands around the black leather gloves hidden inside his hoodie pocket and tried not to think about how much better he’d feel if he was wearing them. He could wear the gloves as Brekker because he could explain it away as trying to avoid leaving fingerprints, but there was no explanation for Kaz Rietveld wearing gloves.

If he was completely honest, he hated being Kaz Rietveld.

He crossed the room to his desk and began gathering his books. Dryden looked up from arranging papers on his desk. “Are you alright, Kazimir?”

Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a submissive smile that he knew Dryden’s ego liked. “Thank you for asking.”

~~~~

Kaz was feeling a little calmer by the time they got out of school. Helping Jesper with algebra during lunch had helped a lot. Kaz loved math; it was easy and straightforward and never failed to make him feel like he was at least partially in control of his life.

When the last bell rang, Kaz made his way through the halls to his locker, hands buried deep in his hoodie pocket. He unlocked his locker and pulled his ancient slide phone out of the front pocket of his backpack. The only texts he had were weird Instagram photos that Jesper had sent him during study hall. No texts from any of the Dregs which meant that things were still on for tonight.

Someone slammed into his back and Kaz almost broke the kid’s arm. He’d learned from being Brekker that nothing kept people from touching you without mockery or pity like the promise of violence to anyone who violated your personal space. Unfortunately, that was on the list of things that were frowned upon at East Ketterdam High.

He glared at the kid until he was gone, then pulled his second piece of ridiculously outdated technology out of his backpack. It was a 4th Gen iPod Nano in an absolutely revolting shade of orange. The thing had been Jordie’s first and bore his dubious taste in color as a result. Jordie had given it to Kaz shortly before their parents had died, and Kaz had been stuck using it ever since.

Still, it was better than having no music player at all. Kaz unwound the black earbuds and shoved them into his ears. He put his playlist of pirated music on shuffle and gathered up the rest of his things. Then he swung his backpack on and left the school.

He made his way to the nearest subway stop. Subways were pretty much the only type of transportation he could manage these days. He was so deathly terrified of cars that some days it was a struggle to cross the street, and buses could still be struck by other vehicles and be pushed off the road into water. Subways ran on tracks and had only limited interaction with other subways, so he could handle them.

The subway was busy enough that there were no seats. No one stood up to offer him a seat, but that was okay; Kaz didn’t want anyone’s pity. He hooked an arm around one of the poles and leaned against it, watching as the stops zoomed by. He finally gave into the urge to put the gloves on. The subtle leather covered his hands, and he felt a million times safer.

He got off the subway at a stop near West Ketterdam High. He was now on the opposite side of the Barrel from his school and the dingy apartment he and Jordie lived in. It was a long trip for what basically constituted as a commute, but when he’d joined a gang he hadn’t wanted to risk running into someone he knew from the East Barrel.

He climbed up the steps out of the subway station and set off down one of the streets. His bad leg was throbbing worse than before after the jarring it had received on the subway. He wormed a bottle of Advil out of his backpack and shook two into his hand. He chewed them so they’d kick in faster and put the bottle away. The Advil would barely help, but his prescription meds were too expensive to use most of the time.

His mouth was still full of the sour, acidic taste of medicine when he reached an old but well-kept house in a dingy side street. He climbed the front steps and knocked. A minute later Alina, Inej’s foster mother, answered the door. She was a young woman and dressed casually, her long, inexplicably white hair was hanging loose around her shoulders. “Hello, Kaz,” she said with a smile. “You know you can just come in. You don’t need to knock.”

“I know,” Kaz said stepping into the house.

The smile Alina gave him was fond and it made Kaz want to do something to wipe it off her face. “Inej isn’t home from school yet,” she said. “I made some cookies this afternoon, though. Do you want some?”

“Maybe later,” Kaz said. “I’ll wait for Inej upstairs.” He tried to avoid Inej’s foster parents as much as possible. He knew that they’d assumed he was Inej’s boyfriend though to be honest he wasn’t sure if he and Inej were even really friends.

He climbed the creaky stairs and headed into Inej’s bedroom. Her foster sister, Nina, was already there lying stretched out on her bed on the left side of the room. Kaz raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“I was sick today,” Nina said in an airy voice that suggested she’d just skipped out.

“Fun,” Kaz crossed to Inej’s bed on the right side of the room. He took off his backpack and lowered himself to the floor, suppressing a hiss of pain. Then he leaned over and began rummaging under the bed.

He heard Nina’s sheets rustle as she rolled over. “Is it a big job tonight?”

“You know that I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, come on, Brekker,” Nina whined. “I thought you’d stop this when I joined up.”

“Whether or not you’re a Dreg doesn’t change the fact that this is an active job,” Kaz said without looking at her. “Only people involved can know about it right now. If you want all the details, I’m sure Inej will be happy to fill you in tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Nina grumbled and fell silent.

Kaz pulled a heavy cardboard box out from under the bed and opened it. Inside were his and Inej’s knives, lockpicks and other equipment. He began separating his favorites out and strapping them to various parts of his body underneath his clothes.

“You know if Alina and Mal find those Inej is going to get in a lot of trouble,” Nina said. “This house has a ‘strict no weapons policy.’”

“I bought all of these,” Kaz said. “That means they’re technically mine, and I don’t live here.”

Nina snorted. “You know, I’m not sure Alina and Mal would accept that loophole.”

Kaz opened his mouth to respond, but something changed, and he knew Inej was there. He turned to see her standing silently in the doorway in her leggings and boots and oversized knit sweater. He didn’t know how he always knew when she was around, but he did.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Inej crossed the room and began taking her knives out of the box. “How are you today?”

Kaz did not let himself think about the panic attack he’d had that morning. Besides, Inej didn’t know about those so he couldn’t tell her anyway. “Ready,” he said.

“Me too,” Inej said. Settling down to strap on her weapons.

Inej had been abducted by sex traffickers at fourteen. She’d been rescued a year later and put into foster care while the system tried to find her parents. Two years later and it was blatantly obvious that no one was actually looking for Mr. and Mrs. Ghafa, and Inej would probably be stuck in the system until she turned eighteen.

Kaz finished arming himself by sliding an oyster shucking knife into one of his battered high tops. He worked himself to his feet, ignoring the worried look Inej gave him and moved his backpack into Inej’s closet. His cane—a sleek black thing with a rounded knob on top—was also there, leaning against the wall. He took it out and tried not to lean too heavily on it.

“Ready to go?” He asked Inej.

She nodded. At some point she’d changed out of her fuzzy knit sweater and put on a dark-color zip front sweatshirt with a hood that she could pull over her head later to keep her braid out of the way.

“Tell me how it goes,” Nina called after them as they left the room.

Inej called goodbye to Alina at the front door and they let themselves out into the street. At the sidewalk, they turned right and began the walk to the Slat. Kaz knew that Inej rode the bus to the Slat when he wasn’t around. When he’d first started keeping his stuff at her house, she’d suggested they ride the bus a number of times. He’d gotten around it by simply ignoring her and walking; eventually she’d stopped asking.

It took them a little over twenty minutes to walk to the Slat, which was a beaten down four-story building of an indeterminable original purpose. Even though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, the place still had a number of seedy looking people hanging around. Those were the gang members who made their livings working for the Dregs and nothing else. That was Kaz’s legacy to the gang; before he’d joined up and started running things Per Haskell had barely been able to pay his own expenses let alone anyone else’s.

Kaz let himself and Inej in through the creaky front door, then he stalked across the big front room and knocked on Per Haskell’s door. “Come in!” the gang leader called and Kaz stepped inside leaving Inej outside.

“Just letting you know that Inej and I are here,” Kaz said.

Per Haskell looked up and snorted. “You look like a high school nerd, Brekker, that undercut doesn’t help.”

Kaz looked down his oversized hoodie, dark jeans and old high tops. “This is how I dress, sir,” he said hoping he didn’t sound like a petulant teenager, this was not the first time he and Per Haskell had had this conversation. “If you want me to wear a full suit, give me the money to buy one and I will.”

Per Haskell hacked out a sound that was half laugh half smoker’s cough. “That would be something to see,” he said. “When are you leaving for the job?”

“When it gets dark,” Kaz said. “It should only take us an hour or two”

“I’ll let you handle this,” Haskell said leaning back in his chair and reaching for the large mug of room temperature lager sitting on the desk. He spoke like there had been a chance he would come. Per Haskell hadn’t done any real work in as long as Kaz had known him; he didn’t even know exactly what the plan was, only what the goal was.

“I can handle it,” Kaz said without letting any annoyance in his voice. He reminded himself that his long-term goals relied on Haskell’s incompetence. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

~~~~

When the sun set, he and Inej rode the subway out of the Barrel and into the business part of Ketterdam. At this time of day, comparatively few people were heading into the business district because people didn’t live there, so they were both able to sit, something Kaz would never admit to being relieved about.

After they got off the subway they only had to walk a couple blocks before the headquarters of Van Eck Industries rose up before them. They stood on the corner looking up at the darkened windows. Kaz pulled off the backpack he’d brought from the Slat and pulled out a pair of ski masks. It was almost hilariously like something out of a movie, but they needed to make sure their faces didn’t end up on any of the building’s copious security cameras. They would deal with them, but only from the inside.

They both fitted their masks on and became a pair of extremely stereotypical bandits. Then they headed across the street to the employee entrance. The door was locked with a randomly generated password, but Kaz whipped out one of the laptops he’d bought for the Dregs with Per Haskell’s money and within seconds had bypassed the lock and they were in.

Once they were inside, they made their way to the security room. The guard on duty tonight was exceedingly lazy which was why they’d chosen tonight for the job. When they entered the security room, the man was sitting at his desk watching a soap opera and vacantly munching on potato chips. He obviously wasn’t watching the many security camera monitors around him, because if he had been he would have seen the two masked people slinking through the hallways.

Inej crossed the room on silent feet and punched the man a couple times with a pair of brass knuckles she always kept in one of her pockets. When he passed out, she heaved him out of his chair and began to drag him towards a closet.

Kaz sat down in the security guard’s chair, stuck a flash drive into the computer and released the most potent of his half a dozen custom computer viruses into the system. When he was finished, he glanced at Inej who stood in the center of the security room watching the security footage on the computer screens flicker out. “I’ll never get tired of that,” she said with a smile.

Kaz smiled as well and made sure he kept his face turned away until he could smooth out his expression again. “Whatever,” he stood up, and pulled his mask off. Now that the security cameras were out of commission there was no reason to keep wearing it. “Let’s move. We’ve got thirty-one minutes before the second security guard finishes her round and gets back here.”

~~~~

Jan Van Eck’s office was on the top floor of the building. With the computer virus in effect, Kaz had to open the electronic lock by opening it up and fiddling with the wires, but it still took him less than a minute. He’d started to learn to pick locks at age nine, while in the hospital after the accident and trying desperately not to think about any of the bad stuff. He’d kept practicing afterwards and now he was one of the best lockpicks in Ketterdam.

The door to Van Eck’s office opened into a borderline ridiculously expensive space that was exactly what you’d expect of man of his wealth and famous arrogance to have. A DeKappel painting hung on the wall behind the desk. Kaz and Inej lifted it down to reveal the safe.

Inej stood guard by the door while Kaz cracked the safe. Even though they were in the middle of a big job, Kaz found his nerves settling. Lockpicking was as relaxing as math.

He got the safe open in what he estimated to approximately half the time it would have taken the Dregs’ second best lockpick. He swung the safe door open and shone a flashlight inside to get a better view of the contents. There were stacks and stacks of cash inside along with some other boxes and papers. Kaz whistled softly. “Someone learns to learn that keeping copious amounts of cash in his safe is just asking for it to be stolen.”

“Is there a lot?” Inej asked.

“Yes,” Kaz began taking out the cash. It was all carefully tied up in those little paper slips you got on bills from the bank. Kaz estimated there was around twenty thousand dollars. His fingers itched to take the money for himself. Twenty thousand dollars would take care of rent and food and all that credit card debt Jordie pretended they didn’t have. He pushed the urge away; Per Haskell might be one of the most useless generals in the Barrel but stealing from him was still a bad idea.

Inej left her guard post and began loading up her backpack with money. Kaz dug deeper into the safe and pulled out some jewelry that was probably worth a couple hundred dollars apiece. Kaz stuffed them into his own backpack with part of the money and laptop he’d used on the outside door, then began going through the papers. This was not strictly part of the plan, but Kaz and Inej built their reputation on having dirt on everyone in Ketterdam so it wouldn’t be right to pass up a chance to gain some new information.

He found a couple worthy-looking papers and memorized them in a handful of seconds. When he was finished he looked around the office. His eyes fell on the DeKappel sitting in its frame against the wall. It was probably a nice painting, though all art looked the same to Kaz. Still, it was expensive and the fact that Van Eck had it so prominently displayed meant that it was important to him...

“Do we have a screwdriver?” Kaz asked Inej.

“Yeah,” Inej said still focused putting the last of the money into Kaz’s backpack. “Why?”

Kaz grinned as his heartbeat sped up. This was going to be great. “We’re taking the painting.”

Now she looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Why?”

Kaz’s smile got even bigger. “Why not?”

She stared at him for a moment then she smiled and shrugged. “Sure,” she dug around in the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out a screwdriver. “Here you go.”

It took them almost ten minutes to get the back of the frame off and the painting taken out. Once that was done they rolled the painting up and fitted it carefully into Inej’s backpack. Then they put the back of the frame back on, closed the safe and hung the empty frame on the wall again.

“Alright,” Kaz turned towards the door, pulling on his own, now significantly heavier backpack. “Let’s get out of here.”

They left Van Eck’s office and headed down the stairwell towards the outside. They were almost to the ground floor when they heard footsteps and voices. They both froze and stared at each other. “How long have we been here?” Inej asked.

Kaz checked his watch. “We should still have ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe-”

A door above them opened. Kaz looked up and his stomach clenched. A couple big, burly men Kaz recognized as members of the Dime Lions were pushing their way into the stairwell. He and Inej looked at each other in shock. Where had the Dime Lions come from? Had they just so happened to plan a break-in for the same night?

“You there!” one of the Dime Lions yelled. “Intruders! Stop right there!”

“Run!” Kaz told Inej and they took off down the stairs.

More Dime Lions entered the stairwell from the bottom. Inej slid down the railing of the last flight of stairs and slashed at them with her knives. Kaz reached the bottom a second later and took out one of the Dime Lions with a well-placed swing with the knobbed end of his cane. They shoved their way out of the stairwell. Within seconds they were out of the building through a different side entrance that opened onto a boardwalk facing the harbor.

“Split up,” Kaz ordered. “We’ll meet up later.”

Inej nodded and took off one direction. Kaz knew that within minutes she’d be up a building and well out of any danger.

He, on the other hand, had it a bit more difficult. His leg meant that he couldn’t climb as quickly as Inej could and he couldn’t run as fast either. Still, he would get away; he was way smarter than basically everyone Pekka Rollins had working for him.

Kaz pounded down the boardwalk with the Dime Lions after him. It sounded like most of them were after him. Which probably meant that they’d recognized him and Inej. They knew that he was Brekker, the most wanted man in Ketterdam, and they knew they’d never catch Inej.

He knew he’d never outrun the Dime Lions, so he just needed to find a good place to stand and fight. He turned left and ran along a narrower part of the boardwalk that jutted out into the water. When he was halfway along it he whirled around and lifted his cane, prepared for a fight.

Half a dozen Dime Lions pounded down the boardwalk after him. The front two charged him immediately. Kaz simply stepped out of the way so one ran into the boardwalk railing and beat the other over the head with his cane.

He stepped away until his back was against the railing opposite the one the Dime Lion had just hit. “So what are you all doing here tonight?” he asked with a classic Brekker smile. “Did the Dregs beat the Dime Lions to the pigeon?”

“We’re not Dime Lions,” one of the men said, eyeing Kaz like he was trying to come up with a halfway decent plan to attack him. “We work for Jakob Hertzoon.”

Kaz had never heard of Jakob Hertzoon before, but he also knew for certain that at least four of these people were definitely Dime Lions. You didn’t just switch loyalties in the Barrel, especially if you worked for Pekka Rollins. Something weird was going on here. He and Inej were going to have to look into this Jakob Hertzoon person. “Oddly enough, I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Give back the property you stole from Van Eck Industries, Brekker,” the man growled. That alone proved that he was definitely from the Barrel. Kaz’s face had never been picked up by the government, so no one outside of the Barrel gangs knew Brekker was really a kid.

“I think I’ll keep it,” Kaz said.

“Get him,” the man said and all six of them charged. Kaz swung his cane and caught the closest one in the nose. She screamed and stumbled back. Kaz got the next one too, but then the rest were on him, grasping at his clothes and backpack, shoving his up against the railing. Their touches were a million points of horror. Kaz struggled but couldn’t get free, his cane rolled out of his fingers.

They were trying to get the backpack off him. Kaz tried to twist away from their hands and felt himself fall backwards into space. He was weightless in the air for mere seconds before he splashed into the harbor.

The water of the harbor was cold, dark and dirty. Kaz couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He couldn’t tell which way was up. He couldn’t tell anything at all, because he was back in that car eight years ago, trapped with his parents’ bodies while the cold, disgusting water creeped inside.

He struggled but it was in vain. He couldn’t get out of the car, he was going to die here. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Then hands grabbed him and dragged him out of the water. He struggled to get air into lungs that didn’t want to inhale. He was out of the water, he wasn’t going to drown, but now he was going to suffocate.

Hands grabbed at him, trying to sit up him up. They were too much like the bodies of his parents which had bounced and pushed against him as the car filled with water. He shoved the person away. “Get your hands off!” he screamed with all the air his starving lungs possessed. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Dontouchme!”

The hands vanished, and Kaz collapsed again. Gravel drug into his cheek and that was what reminded him that he wasn’t still in the car; there was no gravel in the car.

He lay there gasping for an indeterminable amount of time until his vision cleared, and he felt like he could sort of breathe again. Then he peeled his eyes open and looked around.

He was lying on his side on a gravel bank underneath the boardwalk, the water lapping a few inches from his shoes. Inej was crouching a little further up the bank, as dripping wet as he was. She must have dived in after him and pulled him out.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I thought you were drowning at first, so I tried to sit you up to see if you’d breathe easier that way. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Kaz realized immediately that the game was up. If Inej had been less perceptive she might not have realized what had actually happened, and he might have been able to pull the drowning card, but she knew. He could tell that she’d recognized the panic attack for what it was. He could see her rearranging every interaction they’d ever had--everything about him that had never made sense from the buses to the gloves--to accommodate this new information. He could see her bursting through the armor that was his Brekker identity to the sad, weak, pathetic Kaz Rietveld underneath. It was horrible.

He forced himself to his feet. Cold, slimy harbor water ran down his body. He tried not to think of the car. “Let’s go,” he said attempting to sound normal with dubious success.

“Kaz,” Inej said carefully, still not moving any closer to him, “the Dime Lions left after you fell in the water. We’re safe here for a couple minutes if you want to catch your breath.”

“I’m fine!” Kaz snapped. He tried to walk and stumbled, catching himself on one of the boardwalk supports. “Let’s get back to the Barrel before one of the Dime Lions manages to come up with the brilliant idea of calling the cops.”

“Kaz,” Inej said. “You know you can-”

“Inej,” Kaz spoke over her with his nastiest tone. “Let’s go.”

~~~~

Per Haskell found Kaz and Inej’s sodden appearances hilarious and spend a good five minutes laughing until he had tears in his eyes. He was decidedly less pleased about the soaked money in Kaz’s backpack and the ruined laptop. He told them he was docking part of their shares even though the money would dry out useable enough and he thought the laptops were useless anyways. At least Inej had had the foresight to ditch her backpack before jumping in the harbor, so her half the money and the DeKappel were fine.

After finishing up with Haskell, Kaz and Inej returned to Inej’s house. Kaz had a change of clothes stored there for bloody jobs (jeans, a tee-shirt and another hoodie, this one navy blue) but not a second pair of shoes so he had to settle for being completely dry aside from his feet. He tried not to think about the harbor water squelching between his toes as he gathered up his school backpack and fished his iPod out of the front pocket.

Inej watched him from her perch on her bed. “You know you don’t have to leave just yet,” she said. “There are still some cookies left over from this afternoon. We could watch a movie. I could probably convince Mal to make popcorn.”

Kaz knew what she was doing, she was trying to convince him to stay because she was worried about him, because she thought he was weak. He would not allow that. “I’m leaving,” he said without bothering to come up with an excuse. He had no idea how he was going to salvage this situation, but he was going to have to do it somehow and he needed some space to think about it.

“Kaz,” Inej said. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I don’t think that just ignoring that is a good idea. You can talk about it with me; you can trust me.”

He couldn’t trust anyone. He’d learned that in the years since his parents had died. Even Jordie, who should have been his partner in this quest for revenge, could not be trusted. Kaz had something he needed to hide from absolutely everyone in his life.

“No, we’re not going to talk about that,” Kaz said as coolly and Brekker-like as he could. “As far as you’re concerned that never happened. Never bring it up again, and if I figure out that you told someone else--anyone else--I will not hesitant to kill you.”

Instead of flinching back in fear, Inej lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You’re not that cruel.”

“You should,” Kaz said even if he wasn’t totally sure if he would kill her either. “Good night,” then he turned and left the house.

~~~~

It was now after ten pm, so the subway was nearly empty. Kaz sat in one of the cars, folded over at the waist, his forehead pressing into his knees, eyes squeezed tight closed, earbuds blaring overly loud music into his ears. He couldn’t get his mind off how catastrophically badly tonight had gone. Kaz Rietveld’s weaknesses were not supposed to affect Brekker. Brekker was supposed to be strong enough to get revenge on Pekka Rollins.

One of the curses of having a memory like Kaz’s was that nothing ever faded. Pain never got duller. He could still remember the exact way his dead mother’s soaked hair had felt against his hand. He remembered the way blood had trickled out of his father’s mouth. He remembered struggling to keep his head above water when his leg was too badly shattered to kick. He remembered it all as if it had just happened, and he would for the rest of his life.

Mr. and Mrs. Rietveld had died after a multi-car pileup had forced their car and a couple others off a bridge and into the harbor. Officially, it was just a horrible accident, but the fact that the accident had been orchestrated by Pekka Rollins and the Dime Lions was an open secret among all of Ketterdam. When Pekka Rollins wanted someone dead, they died, but what Kaz had never been able to figure out was who the target that day had been. He knew it was ridiculous to get caught up that detail, but he needed to know. He needed to know who Rollins had been after. He needed to know what his parents had died for, once he knew that, he would gladly rip Pekka Rollins’ throat out and everything would be better.

Kaz wasn’t stupid, he knew that destroying everything Pekka Rollins loved and then killing him wouldn’t fix any of his problems, but he had to believe that. He needed to believe that killing Rollins would be the magical cure for everything that was wrong with his life; he didn’t know how he would keep going if it wasn’t.

The subway arrived at his stop. He got to his feet, hissing in pain. He chewed another couple Advil while he climbed out of the subway station and stuffed the bottle into the pockets of his new hoodie. He headed down the dimly lit streets to the tumbled down apartment building where he and Jordie lived.

Their apartment was a two room, one bathroom flat that they probably paid too much rent for. Still they stayed because as long as they paid the rent, the landlord would overlook anything. That had been especially helpful back when they’d both been minors and their uncle had never been around enough to constitute as their actual legal guardian.

Their uncle had been supposed to take care of them, but instead he’d fooled around and burned through their admittedly meager inheritance before Jordie reached eighteen. He also went on long trips without telling them where he was going or when he’d be back, so they’d mostly fended for themselves. They hadn’t seen him since Jordie had turned eighteen and Kaz privately hoped the man had managed to die, though he doubted they were that lucky.

Kaz struggled up the steps to the eighth floor, wishing the elevator actually worked. Still he eventually made it to the apartment and reached for the knob.

The door was unlocked.

Instantly on high alert, Kaz pulled out his earbuds and slid his backpack from his shoulders. He’d left all his knives at Inej’s, but the backpack was heavy enough to serve as a weapon in a pinch. He twisted the knob quietly and stepped into the apartment.

He made his way silently down the tiny hallway to the main room. He saw the form of someone sitting on the old, saggy couch. He hefted the backpack up and stepped closer, then stopped. “Jordie?”

Jordie jumped and whirled around, getting to his feet. It was obvious he hadn’t heard Kaz come in. His face twisted into a frown. “Kaz! It’s about time!”

“What are you doing here?” Kaz asked. “You work nights on Thursdays.” That was why he’d planned this job for tonight; he knew Jordie wouldn’t be around to notice he was gone.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Jordie snapped. “It’s after eleven! I’ve been calling you for hours! Where were you?”

Kaz knew he was failing at completely keeping the surprise off his face, he hadn’t checked his phone picking up his backpack and apparently, he should have. “Hanging out in the university district with Jesper,” he said. He remembered that Jesper had mentioned that he and Wylan had been going on a date in the university district tonight, so perhaps if Jordie had called Mr. Fahey this story wouldn’t be instantly disproven. “We lost track of time.”

Jordie ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “Kaz, you can’t just wander around the city with no one knowing where you are. I should give you a curfew.”

For as long as Kaz could remember, Jordie had always been a little more. A little taller, a little heavier, a little better looking, a little more trusting, a little more tactful, a little better. It wasn’t until Kaz had created his Brekker identity that he’d truly acknowledged the ways that he was more. He was smarter, and braver, and a better fighter, and a better planner. He was more untrusting and untrustworthy, more hardworking, more reckless, more morally gray, and above all more vicious. Jordie was the better brother, but Kaz was the one who would get them their justice.

That was how he knew Jordie would never go through with the threat of a curfew. Jordie liked things to be easy; he knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail to impose something like that on Kaz and he’d rather not do the work. Kaz resented that on some level, because it was the same method of thinking that kept Jordie from truly trying to seek justice for their parents, but in this situation, it was helpful.

Suddenly Kaz was very tired. He’d had an absolutely horrible day and he really just wanted to curl up on the couch with a warm blanket. He’d make himself a mug of hot chocolate and maybe spike it with that bottle of whiskey that Jordie thought he didn’t know was hidden under the sink. He’d turn on the TV and watch whatever mindless programs were on until he fell asleep. Now his brother was here, and he had to deal with him instead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Jordie wasn’t done, “I asked off of work tonight, did you know that? I wanted to spend some time with you. We’ve barely seen each other recently and I thought it would be nice to have a night just the two of us. Instead you spend the whole night galivanting around the city and I was stuck here watching the hours tick by and thinking of all the money I was losing!”

Kaz would not stand for that. “You know,” he snarled. “If you wanted to spend time with me, you could have asked me in advance. You could have said, ‘Hey, Kaz, I’m thinking about taking Thursday night off, so we could hang out. Do you have any plans?’ like any normal person. You can’t just expect me to never have anything going on. I’m not a little kid content to sit around practicing magic tricks and waiting for you to finally have time to notice me!”

That was a low blow, and mostly untrue because while Jordie had had increasingly less time as he picked up jobs to try to take care of both of them, he’d always tried to make time for Kaz. Kaz knew he’d feel guilty about playing that card eventually, but right now it didn’t matter.

Jordie’s mouth opened and closed in shock. “How can you say that?” he asked. “Everything I’ve ever done is to make things better for you.”

“If you really wanted to make things better then maybe you would have stopped our uncle from spending all our money,” Kaz snapped. “Maybe you would try to make Pekka Rollins pay for what happened to our parents!”

“Kaz, I can’t either of those things!” Jordie snarled. “You can’t just expect things to work out the way you want them to all the time, sometimes you have to accept what you get.”

“And sometimes you can’t just lie down and let the machine walk all over you!” Kaz said.

“I can’t bring Mom and Da back, Kaz,” Jordie said. “Getting Pekka Rollins won’t bring them back either.”

“I know that,” Kaz snarled. “I’m not a child, but that doesn’t change that he still deserves to pay.”

“Let it be, Kaz,” Jordie said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“If that’s the way you want to be,” Kaz said crossing his arms. “Then I don’t see why you’re so angry about where I was tonight. I told you that I was hanging out with Jesper and we lost track of time. I’d known that we were going to hang out for a while, if you’d asked me beforehand we could have avoided this whole situation. Now, I’m going to bed and there’s nothing more you can do about this situation.” Then he turned and stalked off into the apartment’s only other room.

His bed was on the right and Jordie’s was on the left. He peeled off his wet shoes and socks and kicked them as far under the bed as he could so Jordie wouldn’t step on them or something and start getting more suspicious. He took off the gloves too; he was lucky Jordie had been too angry to notice them. Then he threw himself face down onto his bed without bothering to change. Perhaps his eyes were a little wet, but he’d never admit that; Brekker didn’t cry.

Jordie never came into the bedroom, and when Kaz got up for school the next morning he was already gone.

--

Honestly, I think that one of the things I enjoyed most about this story was exploring the dynamic between Kaz and alive!Jordie.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed.

Emjen

[esonetwork]

Star Wars legends: ESO Network chats with author Timothy Zahn

New Post has been published on https://esopodcast.com/star-wars-legends-eso-network-chats-with-author-timothy-zahn/

Star Wars legends: ESO Network chats with author Timothy Zahn

He may not be the “Chosen One,” use Force powers, or wield a lightsaber, but Timothy Zahn is most definitely still a Star Wars legend.

Back in the early ’90s, the author played a key role in the establishment of the Star Wars series of novels called the “Expanded Universe” — now known as “Star Wars Legends” — and created such well-loved characters as ex-Imperial agent Mara Jade and Grand Admiral Thrawn. Zahn recently started writing for the new Star Wars canon with the book “Thrawn” and its sequel, “Thrawn: Alliances.” “Alliances” was released in July 2018 and features two separate timelines: one set in the Clone Wars era with Thrawn/Anakin teaming up on a mission, and one set in the original trilogy era with the Emperor deploying Thrawn/Vader to the unknown regions of the galaxy.

At Dragon Con 2018, ESO Network reporters Mary Ogle and Ashley Pauls had a chance to sit down with Zahn and chat about Star Wars, the art of writing, and just who might make a good Thrawn if the character ever appears in one of the live action films. Read an excerpt from our interview below, and listen to the full interview on Earth Station One Podcast Episode 437: https://esopodcast.com/the-earth-station-one-podcast-437-the-big-lebowski-live-from-dragon-con/

ESO: What has been your experience getting to work for the new canon? You kind of have an interesting perspective — you wrote for the old Expanded Universe and now you’re writing for the new. What’s that transition been like and what have you enjoyed about that?

Zahn: Just as a side note, it’s canon and Legends. They’re trying to train us to [use], not “new canon,” not EU — canon, Legends.

It’s tricky to get used to that.

It is very much, and I’m told [Lucasfilm’s] Story Group occasionally goofs up on that as well. (laughter) They’re trying to get us to talk that way. The big difference with writing in canon is that there’s so much less established at the moment. There were over 200 books in Legends that you had to work around and make sure you weren’t double-booking characters, having them be two places at the same time. Because we’ve just started up the last few years with canon, there aren’t nearly as many diggings in the field, as it were, finding/mining the ore and all that. So it’s easier to find a place and a time where you can put your story. Story Group also is much more efficient than the old days, when we were all trying to keep track of things ourselves, because they have a finger on the pulse of everything that’s being done at Lucasfilm.

I don’t have to worry about continuity or stepping on somebody else’s toes, especially somebody I don’t even know what they’re working on. Story Group will pick up on all of that. So there’s a freedom to, okay, I will put TIE fighters in this era; if there’s something wrong with that, Story Group will pick up on that and will get it changed so I don’t have to worry nearly as much about what I’m doing in continuity.

Aside from that it’s pretty much the same as it’s always been. We’ve got the extra layer of Disney on top, but I never see that.

So do you find that freeing or constraining?

Oh, pretty much freeing, because again I don’t have to worry about things. With my first canon book, “Thrawn,” somebody asked me after it was published if Tarkin was a Grand Moff at the time I’ve got him in that story, and I can unequivocally say yes because Story Group didn’t bat an eye on that. If that was the wrong rank for him at that time, they would have caught it. The fact they didn’t change it means yes, that is correct.

In “Thrawn: Alliances,” Anakin and later Darth Vader team up with Thrawn. Was that an idea that you came up with, or was that something Lucasfilm approached you to say, we’d like this book with these two characters together?

Well, I left the hook in the “Thrawn” novel of Anakin and Thrawn having met, and so when it came time to pitch another book that’s what I suggested, “I’d like to do the Thrawn and Anakin [story].” They wanted a Thrawn/Vader. So we compromised and did both.

Is it usually you approaching them or do they approach you?

Typically, I mean almost always in the past, it has been them approaching me. I think with “Thrawn: Alliances,” it was more or less a general yes, we’re going to do a second book because the first one has done so well. Clearly the audience is out there for Thrawn; what else can we do?

One of the things that was interesting in reading “Thrawn: Alliances” is that Vader/Anakin and Thrawn have such different perspectives and means of responding to situations. What was it like digging into both those two characters and then contrasting the way they approach the world?

One of the fun things about adding new characters to the Star Wars universe is seeing how other established characters interact with them. And you’ve got the contrast with Vader, who’s been sent out on a mission with Thrawn, and Anakin, who has more or less been thrown into the situation with Thrawn, not exactly of his own choosing or of his own volition. In that one, Anakin and Thrawn are largely reacting to other things rather than being proactive; they’re having to react to what the enemy throws at them.

You also have to be careful that Vader is not stupid; Vader is very smart, Anakin is smart, they’re both tactically knowledgeable, you know good pilots, etc. So you have to balance, it’s not just a “Thrawn is the smart one, Vader is the powerful one.” You do have to change off back and forth. And you also have to be aware that Vader, if he is displeased with somebody, may just choke him. To balance that is [the idea] that the Emperor still has use of Thrawn, and Vader’s knowledge that he’s seen this guy in action before and he knows he can deliver. So when Thrawn says, trust me, a lesser person might find themselves kind of floating off the floor; Vader will be a little more patient with Thrawn because “I’ve seen he can deliver, so let’s watch and see what happens.” I did get a couple of concerns from some of the people at Lucasfilm about that. So I added in bits of okay, Vader is not only being constrained by the Emperor’s will but he’s also curious. I can see Vader and Anakin having a certain amount of curiosity: “All right, let’s see how this plays out…I can always choke him later.”

It’s been really cool to see Thrawn come into the “Rebels” TV show; would you ever like to see a live action Thrawn? And if so, if you could cast anybody, who would you like to see in that role?

People ask me that one all the time; the problem is that I see characters in terms of attitude and personality, not necessarily face or voice. I have heard several suggestions that I think I could easily go with. One is Benedict Cumberbatch. Second would be Jason Isaacs from Harry Potter and so many other things. Lars Mikkelsen who does the voice on “Rebels” is an accomplished actor in his own right; he could certainly play the character. And I think I lean a little towards Jeremy Irons. He could pull it off. But again, any actor who could capture the presence, the global awareness of the character, the calm demeanor. The makeup and the contact lenses are easy. It’s the pulling off the attitude.

Would I like to see him in a live action? If they did him right. I do not want to see him messed up by somebody who didn’t understand the character. The “Rebels” team understood him very well, and they knew how to write for him.

Do you have a favorite fan encounter that stands out to you? Or maybe it’s difficult to pick one.

I think what mostly jumps out at me with fan encounters is, I’m always grateful people like the books, of course. I mean, that’s my job to entertain, and to give them their money’s and time’s worth. But there’s an extra bonus when someone says “this book helped me through a really bad time in my life.” Or, you know, “this book taught me reading could be fun. I never read a book for fun until this one. Now, I read all the time.” Or “this book helped me through my deployment in Iraq,” or something like that. I’m writing to entertain, but I’m affecting people’s lives, some people’s lives much deeper than I ever anticipated. And that’s just a bonus.

I had one woman last convention who told me she was autistic and had a problem with not filtering out the truth from what people wanted to hear and got in trouble. And she really understood and felt Thrawn was like her, that he doesn’t understand why people don’t want to hear the truth. And she said, this is the first fictional character she’d read who she can identify with. Not at all anything I would have ever anticipated. But she grabbed onto him as somebody that “I understand him. He’s like me in many ways, and that makes me feel better.” So just things like that. No way to anticipate that — I’m just an old country entertainer, but it’s affecting some people in very good ways.

Is writing something you always wanted to do?

Oh no, I was on track getting a doctorate in physics, and saw bad TV shows [and thought], “I can write better than that.” Wrote a story that wasn’t very good, but I enjoyed it, started as a hobby for a couple of years. My adviser died of a heart attack, left me with a project that was never going to work; it was fundamentally flawed. So decided, after a semester of working with a new professor and a new project, you know, I’m having more fun writing, I’ve sold two stories — let’s give this a shot.

I really appreciated what you said in the Star Wars authors panel at Dragon Con. I liked how you commented on the Legends stories — they may not be canon technically, but they’re still out there. They’re still enjoyable. So it’s still very much a part of the fandom and the overall fabric of the Star Wars universe.

You’re sitting around the campfire, Coruscant’s a long way away, the HoloNet breaks down a lot. You don’t get much news out here. And while you’re working on your s’mores, somebody says “hey, have you guys ever heard the story of Luke Skywalker and Grand Admiral Thrawn?” And by the time you’re in your sleeping bag, you don’t know if that was true or not, but it was fun. You enjoyed it. And that’s what a legend is, and maybe based somewhat in truth, it may not be. There probably was somebody that Robin Hood was based on; probably nothing like what we’ve come up with in stories from the 1600s or maybe earlier, but he’s an intriguing character. And you’ve got all these legends: Robin Hood, King Arthur, William Tell. Every culture has got their own legends and they’re still fun to read.

[ramon-salamander]

Ok, now tell me everything that I didn't learn from the serial *lays on floor* shower me with your headcanons

OOC:

OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WITH PLEASURE!!!!!~ I’ma put this under a read more because I’ve got A LOT. But I know they’re are some that I’ve forgotten, so if anyone wants to remind us of any, feel free!

I’ll also just say: there ARE implications of abuse in the last one. I’ve put it between warnings, but please still tread carefully if you decide to read on.

((I should point out to begin with that this blog, if it isn’t already obvious, is V E R Y canon-divergent, to the point it’s its own AU I guess????))

-Motherfucker loves butterflies. Has a giant book on them. (You can blame this one on the Target novelization.)

-The Doctor’s comments about him being ‘a sort of Jekyll and Hyde character’ hits closer than one may think: Ramon and Salamander are two different consciousness who share a body. Whether Salamander is a lost soul who happened to attach themselves to Ramon or a split personality is up for debate. (Nemesio shares a different but similar idea to the first, but I’m still working on the other parts for that.)

-It’s Salamander who is in control for the majority of The Enemy of the World. No one knows for sure when he takes over and suppresses Ramon’s consciousness to a restrained but still aware degree. Certain moments that seem odd (his facial expression right after Benik turns to leave him in episode 4, for example) are really Ramon fighting back.

-Hides a really old stuffed animal in one of his pockets at all times. His name is Senor Stuffy and Ramon has had him so long that’s the poor thing is nothing more than a small pile of rags with buttons held together by stitches and love.

-Hilariously, Salamander’s spiel to Fedorin about volcanos in episode 2 is an echo of something his father Efrain had told Ramon when he was a kid.

-On the subject of parents (and a much lighter note), his mother Yesenia was a kind woman who only wanted the best for her son, but ultimately agreed with her husband that Salamander was nothing but the product of an overactive imagination. (I don’t remember who sent this one, but I love it a lot still.)

-Do not talk to this man about cats. You will never hear the end of it.

-Ramon is falsely accused of murder around a year before the SunStore is scheduled to launch. Nothing ever comes of it, and his success strikes it from his record.

-This blog’s Ramon comes from a timeline where TEotW takes place in the book’s timeline.

-I’m still trying to figure out how Hispanic naming customs work but from what I can gather I would like you to meet my muse Ramon Cassiel Salamander Reyes. (I know the second first name isn’t supposed to be a middle name in the traditional sense shhhhhh. There’s also some sick sort of symbolism in the maternal last name.)

-Grew up with only one true friend only to later learn that same kid is actually his half-brother.

-The only reason he escapes the Vortex with his mind intact is because he technically dies within minutes of entering it. The next thing he knows, Father Kreiner is standing over what he thinks is a cadaver, but has actually been revived upon being taken into the Horror. He remains Kreiner’s guinea pig for a year, and has horrible nightmares because of it. (On this blog, he hates the anons who bring up the Vortex and Kreiner the most.)

-The Vortex actually had a strange impact on his body: sometimes small tears will appear in time, allowing him to travel unguarded through the Vortex. This is all done unwillingly, and has strangely never happened while he’s inside a TARDIS. No one is exactly sure why.

-Met Giles Kent in a pub in Sussex.

-Literally 0 pain medication tolerance. Give this man an advil and he’s DOWN.

-I’ma pin the blame on @rose-of-pollux for this one, but he’s a closet Zelda fan. Ask him which is his favorite, I dare you.

-Hair is at maximum fluff after’s he’s just gotten up for the day.

-Probably beat the tar out of his fair share of tormentors in his childhood with a book. His parents were never pleased with this.

-Once managed to get a piece of fruit off the top branch of a tree with nothing but a piece of paper. Raul still isn’t sure how.

-His birthday is March 25, placing him at around 47/48 years old during the events of TEotW.

-Ramon/Salamander has also been wearing the same boots since then; the former because they’re comfortable, the latter because they’re stylish (and the style won’t be made for another 15+ years).

-He’s got a birthmark in the crease between his waist and thigh (and I blame @leda74 for this one as it was originally her idea).

(TRIGGER WARNING)

- I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out how to word what a piece of garbage his father Efrain, who ironically is the same person that gave him Stuffy, was and honestly the fact that Ramon is actually thankful Salamander suppresses most of his memories of the man should be enough, I think.

(WARNING OVER)

[catherine-batty-author]

If Destiel was a M/F pairing they would have been canon years ago... or maybe not. The slow burn TV couples.

Following on from my post The Show Made Me Do it (https://thechroniclesofjudas.tumblr.com/post/166439114361/the-show-made-me-do-it), I felt the need to speak again on a topic that seems to bounce around Tumblr all the time re Destiel – if they were a M/F pairing they would have been canon years ago.

All fandoms have ships and Destiel is not only one of the biggest but one of the most passionate. As I’ve said before and many meta writer’s have said (in far more detail) before me – it is there embedded in the show. Sometimes blatant, sometimes in subtext. But it is there.

I disagree with the notion that it is guaranteed that if they were a hetro paring they would have been canon by now. There have been many hetro (canon) screen couples who have had their relationships drawn out and explored over many years. All too often in TV hetro couples are thrown together within a series or two and then torn apart before coming back together again a few series later. It is a fairly standard trope - one used time and time again by SPN - but of course, it’s not romantic (whatever!).

But sometimes writers make interesting choices and there are canon couple/ships out there that have not taken the standard path…and the Destiel parallels are everywhere. Here are a few I love:-

The Doctor and River Song/Doctor Who

This is a brilliantly written relationship because it is known by dedicated fans and GA alike that they were a couple until her death. They loved each other deeply. She was one of the few beings in the universe who knew The Doctor’s real name. He spent 1 night (on a planet where that lasted 25 years in Earth time) with her because he knew the following day she would die based on their weird timeline, and he needed a way and time to say goodbye. Then, following her death he uploaded her memory into a computer so it was there for all eternity – it’s a beautiful love story told in reverse. Following her death he has kept her photograph with him. He finds it hard to talk about her and shuts people down when they try. But their relationship was not shown in a traditional light on screen. She is known as The Doctor’s wife, they even are shown getting married – however each time their relationship is shown, it is in the guise of something else. Although River was shown “marrying” The Doctor it wasn’t actually him. This was the same when she “killed” him. This follows a general theme of their on-screen relationship. What you see is not always what happened. The Doctor and River Song is basically all subtext but even if you don’t ship them you are not told you are delusional, it is accepted because it is canon.

Donna Moss and Joshua Lynam/The West Wing

There are soooo many parallels between Josh/Donna and Dean/Cas it’s unbelievable. Seriously, if you’ve never seen the West Wing (why not, it’s awesome and some of the best screen writing, ever) do it just for this.

So in a nutshell, Donna was introduced in the pilot as the personal assistant of Josh Lyman, the duty chief of staff of the White House. She was only meant to be a minor recurring character (like all the other assistants) but her on screen chemistry (mostly snark) with Josh meant her role was stepped up in S1 and then made a main cast member for subsequent seasons. They are also a big ship from S1 ep1.

Despite their snark and sass with each other, they care for each other deeply and are a great team. Their professional and personal relationships bleed over as time goes on as well. Over the course of 7 seasons they are on the same side, opposing sides, they fall out, they support each other, they are jealous when one is a relationship with someone else. They are not a canon couple until late in the final 7th season, but before they finally get together, it is common for their other love interests to ask the other party if they are “treading on any toes”. Third parties are always assuming there is more them because of they way they are with each other. Donna is directly asked in one ep if she loves Josh – we never see/hear her answer as the ep ends but her face says it all. When Josh is shot at the end of S1 she is broken. She doesn’t leave his side. When he survives, after a brief moment of longing looks they return to their old ways.

Interestingly enough; the writers (who had no plans to make Donna into the character she was, it was fan driven) deliberately kept them apart until the last season. Once the ship was known they slowly wrote two interesting characters who gradually came together with their endgame to become canon.

This is just a TINY insight in TWW writing of Josh/Donna but even so… the Destiel parallels are everywhere.

William Riker and Deana Troi/Star Trek: TNG

This really shows my age! (FYI I was 7 when this series started, my mum was sooo excited Start Trek was coming back and wanted me to watch it too. I also loved it from the start.) This one is a little different in that in the pilot it is canon that Riker and Troi were ex’s who still had feelings for each other. Over the course of 7 seasons they were never “together” but they had this sub-textual under current. There was a lot of pining and long looks at each other with occasional kissing. Again there was a lot of jealousy if one party was involve with someone else.  When they comforted one another they refer as “Imzadi” meaning beloved. They continued in this fashion for the full 7 seasons and 2 films, only becoming canon again briefly in the 3rd film and following their marriage in the 4th film “Nemesis” -15 YEARS after the pilot.

Temperance “Bones” Brennan and Seeley Booth/Bones.

This is another couple that took 6 seasons to become canon – even then it was because the writer’s hand was forced. It was clear that the endgame was to make them a couple but their friendship was developed first. As such there were many of the traits mentioned above and shared with Dean and Cas. Their relationship was only made canon after Bones actress Emily Deschanel fell pregnant. They could have hidden it but the writer’s decided to bring their endgame forward. Writer’s are fluid like that – we can change the direction as and when required.

If in 4.01 Castiel had chosen a female vessel (and this was the ONLY) change to the narrative) no one would have an issue with believing this to be an epic love story. But because it’s two men, it’s dismissed. (Technically one man and one being of multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent without gender, but hey.)

As @tinkdw said in her post Cas and Dean could have been totally platonic, (https://tinkdw.tumblr.com/post/163833238972/cas-and-dean-could-have-been-totally-platonic) I would have loved this show even if Destiel was a “family don’t end with blood” story. The brother Dean chose. It would have been an epic love story of a platonic/familial kind and free will. But it has been MADE romantic. The actors, writers, directors, editors, set designers etc, they have MADE this a slow burn romance. It might not have initially been planned that way but that is how stories (and life) work – it’s all fluid.

Even if you take out the favourite argument for it never being canon which is “Dean is straight” (he’s not but I’m not here to dissect that, meta writers have done a much better job at that than I can ever do), you are basically saying “a person/character has no ability to change or have room for personal growth”. And let’s face it, even in canon Dean’s already subverted many of the character traits he’s known for – why not this one?

It’s not AS common to keep a couple from going canon for as long as Supernatural has Dean and Cas, but in the end, I believe they will make the wait worth it. There is precedence after all. This isn’t a long list of slow burn TV couples there are so many we all could list, but these are just some that strike me a good parallels and leaves me hopeful for the future of these two idiots.

[sevenlockets]

A REALLY LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY.

RULES.  repost , don’t  reblog  ! tag  10  ! good  luck  ! TAGGED.  @deathonheels - thank you so much ! TAGGING.  Anyone else who hasn’t been tagged already & wants to do it!!

FULL NAME :  Elias Ward ALIAS :  Undertaker AGE :  Physically, he is perpetually 33.  In Kuroshitsuji’s canon timeframe (1889) he would be 686.  As of 2017, he would be 814. BIRTHDAY : November 20th, 1203.  (Death Day: November 13th, 1237) ETHNIC GROUP : English & some Italian (he, like most people in the village where he was born, still carried the genes of the region’s historic Roman invaders.) NATIONALITY : English LANGUAGE / S : English, obviously.  In addition, he knows quite a few others- for a while in the 1700′s, learning languages became his favorite hobby.  A full list would include Japanese (I consider this actual canon rather than just headcanon, since his Sotoba are all in Japanese- I’m assuming those mean something to him and he doesn’t just carry them around for aesthetics), German, Russian, Chinese, Italian, Spanish, Arabic, and Latin.   SEXUAL ORIENTATION : He’s just attracted to whomever he happens to be attracted to.  He has slept with both men and women (though he does tend to prefer the latter), and doesn’t see why people get so hung up on labels- why deny yourself variety? ROMANTIC ORIENTATION :  I suppose the fitting word would be demiromantic?   RELATIONSHIP STATUS :  The short answer is that, he is in a serious, loving, and soulbound relationship with @maxabre .  //  However, there is a longer answer, given different time frames are a factor.  As of canon (1889), he is technically single; but he does not think of himself as such- he still sees himself as being involved with his lost love, Claudia Phantomhive, and refuses to even consider moving on since he hopes to resurrect her.  As years go on though, he begins to realize this is a futile pursuit, and eventually accepts, much to his sorrow, that this is an impossible task, even for him.  Around 1910, he and Grell begin a purely sexual relationship (for the full story of their relationship, click here- I am just giving the status/timeline), but by the end of the 30′s, the two had finally admitted — both to themselves and one another — that they had fallen deeply in love.  This little paragraph is already much too long, so I won’t give all the details here, but they had some very, very serious troubles, resulting in a split of about 30 years- however, as of the present day, they are back together and even happier than before.   CLASS :  I don’t quite know how to place him in terms of social class.  He has no title or formal recognition, but he does, even in modern day, have close ties to England’s villainous nobles.  In addition, he has accumulated quite a bit of money over the years, though he does not live in such a manner as to overtly display it.   HOME TOWN / AREA :  A small village near the city of Exeter in southern England. CURRENT HOME : London, England. PROFESSION :  In his human life, he farmed, as did everyone else in his village.  After ending his life, he worked for the Dispatch as a collections officer up until 1835.  After deserting the Dispatch, he wedged himself into the most interesting group of humans he could manage to find; AKA the villainous nobles, where he offered his services to various members of the group, primarily as an informant (and guard with supernatural abilities) in exchange for a place to live (and hide from any officers of the Dispatch).  Eventually, he himself became an honorary member of the Villainous Nobles, and he still, even into modern day, occasionally will provide them information or aid (these sort of people know not to ask questions regarding how long he’s been around).  In the late 1870′s, he began work as a mortician- he told the other Villainous Nobles this was to serve as a front for his duties as an informant.  However, it was, in actuality, a front for his front- he wanted to start tinkering with souls, cinematic records, and corpses in secret- and what better place to do it than a mortuary?  This went on for quite some time, only coming to an end after after the events of Campania, when he did not go back to his funeral parlor, but instead focused fully on his bizarre doll projects and other ongoing plans.  Only after 1905 or so did he take up a profession again (this time as a doctor), and only did so to distract himself from the slowly dawning realization that he had ultimately failed with the dolls, and thus in his efforts to bring back his loved ones.  Though no matter the reason he began with it, he thoroughly enjoyed working as a doctor- and continued to work in different types of medicine — under aliases and in varied practices and hospitals across the massive city, all thanks to forged documentations provided by his contacts within the Villainous Nobles — up until the early 1980′s.  Again, this is already far too long so I won’t explain here, but he did not work formally again until the early 00′s, when he found himself a job as a biology professor at a small university.  Though this too started only as a way to occupy his mind and distract himself, he does enjoy his work as a professor, and is one to the present day!

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :  Extremely long, thick, silver-white hair that reaches down to below his hips.   EYES : Like any Shinigami, he has two-colored eyes, with a yellow ring on the inside and a green one on the outside.  In more modern times, he chooses to wear solid forest-green colored contacts while he is out and about, so he does not have to hide his eyes constantly as he does in canon.  His eyes are his defining feature, and I don’t think many would hesitate to call them beautiful- they are deep-set and visibly intelligent.  They naturally display pride and playfulness, but also carry an undeniable sadness in them.  His eyebrows are very thin, fine, and the same white-blonde color as his hair, so it often appears as though he has none.  His eyelashes are, again, that same white color, but they are long and full- if you are standing close to him, it’s hard not to notice them. FACE : Heart-shaped, with a prominent, pointed nose.  LIPS :  Full, and much paler than most people’s, though still a slight pinkish-tan color.  COMPLEXION :  Extremely pale, nearly translucent skin.   BLEMISHES : His skin is entirely clear of any ‘blemishes’, even things such as freckles, moles, or birthmarks, he has none of. SCARS : What he lacks in blemishes, he surely makes up for in scars, which stand out as a tan, almost mauve sort of color.  His entire body is very noticeably scarred in various places, from his face and neck to his legs and fingers.  The largest of them are on his back and stomach, some running over his shoulders.  He has more scars in modern verses than canon ones, none new directly on his face, though there is a wide, vertical one on the left side of his neck now- the rest are usually concealed by clothes. TATTOOS :  From about 1990 onwards, he was a tattoo on his right side of several lengths of intertwining thorns.  It extends from his ribs down to just below his hip.

HEIGHT : 6′2 / 188 cm   WEIGHT : 162 llbs / 73.5 kg BUILD :  Slender, yet visibly strong. FEATURES : I’m not sure if this exactly counts as a ‘feature’, but given his completely white skin & hair & eyelashes and everything, I’ve thought before that maybe he has albinism (his eyes are only green & yellow because of his status as a Reaper).  Just for reference, here are some photos / of / albino / people.  See what I mean? ALLERGIES : I don’t think Reapers have to worry about allergies, haha. USUAL HAIR STYLE : As a reaper, he most often wore it tied back with a black ribbon in a long ponytail.  In canon, he simply wears it loose and down, with his bangs purposefully across his eyes. In modern verse, he almost always wears it up in a sort of bun, with a few loose, shorter locks in front to frame his face. USUAL FACE LOOK :  In public, almost always has an amused or smug look on his face, usually because he is either interested in what he’s doing/talking about, trying to amuse himself by thinking up a puzzle or game to pass the time, or he is secretly listening in on someone else’s conversation and is trying not to laugh.  In private, that same look sometimes appears on his face, but more often than not it is a contemplative look- with no outside stimulus, he always finds himself completely lost in thought with incredible ease. USUAL CLOTHING : We all know what he wears in canon, but his style is all the sorts of things found in my wardrobe tag!  All in all, he prefers to stay with more expensive, textured fabrics, and darker colors.  He also likes to be more covered up than exposed, even in warmer temperatures.  Accessories are something he is quite fond of- he’s usually earring at least one set of earrings, and sometimes rings, bracelets, or necklaces.

FAMILY.

(Just as a note, I don’t believe Reapers can remember anything of their human lives.  However, I have been thinking about his human life recently, so I am happy to provide details!)

FATHER :  Aylwin Ward MOTHER :  Agnes Ward SIBLINGS :  None surviving.  For two weeks when he was six years old, he had a baby brother named Bartholomew- but like so many of the time, the infant died of a mixture of illness and birth complications. EXTENDED FAMILY :  He had several cousins, aunts, and uncles in his village growing up. NAME MEANING / S :  ‘Elias’ is an alternate translation of ‘Elijah’, an Old Testament prophet.  I originally just picked this name because it was the one I liked best off of a list of 13th century English names I had found, but looking further into it- I’m interested.  Coincidentally, Elijah is actually credited with the first recorded instance of raising the dead in scripture!  ‘Ward’ (his surname) means ‘guardian’ or ‘watchman’. HISTORICAL CONNECTION :  None

FAVORITES.

HOLIDAY :  He really enjoys Christmas time, but thinks Halloween is the most fun!  And April Fool’s Day. MONTH : February SEASON : Winter PLACE :  His home, as long as @maxabre is there too.  If home doesn’t count, he does enjoy going to public spaces like city parks, coffee shops, or certain pubs if the atmosphere is right. WEATHER :  He loves clear nights, when the stars are visible- though he misses seeing the sky as it used to be, without all the light pollution.  Pouring rain is also something that tends to put him in a more peaceful state of mind, so he enjoys that. SOUND :  @maxabre’s laugh, and the way she talks when she’s excited about something.  Wind and rain, and any music he keeps in his collection. SCENT / S :  Pine, smoke from a woodfire, Lillies, cooking food, books. TASTE / S : He looooves most sweets- but gingersnap cookies and cinnamon rolls are some of his favorites!  Outside of desserts though, he loves East Asian and Mediterranean cuisine the most. FEEL / S :  Soft, plush blankets are his favorite.  He doesn’t get cold easily at all (like any Reaper), but has throw blankets all over his house simply because he likes the feeling of them. ANIMAL / S : He likes snakes, birds, cats, dogs, and spiders! COLORS :  Purple, Black, Green, Gray

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : In canon, the only thing he fears is his plans failing- he is far past his breaking point, and holds nothing above the success of his projects. As of modern day, he most fears losing Grell again, for any reason.  Another huge fear of his is forgetting his children’s faces, voices, etc.  Third would be getting captured again by the Dispatch, but that’s way behind those others. ASPIRATION / S : Honestly?  The thing he desires most — in any verse — is to be with people he loves and who love him in return- which has always been an incredibly hard combination for him to find.  In direct contrast to his (at best) indifferent and (at worst) cruel instincts toward most people, he takes great joy in caring for the people he loves- that’s what he most wants to do. POSITIVE TRAITS : (copied from my about page)  Incredibly intelligent. Well-read, observant, and multitalented. Confident and a critical thinker. With those he loves, his devotion is deep and unfaltering to the point of mimicking religious intensity. He is creative, persistent, and resourceful.   NEGATIVE TRAITS : (copied from my about page)  Unstable, calculated, obsessive, and extremely selfish. Notorious manipulator- even to those he loves. He refuses to let things go. He is willing to do anything to get what he wants, no matter how many people may be hurt in the process. Deceitful. ZODIAC : Scorpio TEMPERAMENT :   Choleric.   SOUL TYPE / S :  Leader came in first, followed by Thinker in second! VICE HABIT / S :  He will drink often, and has used things like tobacco and drugs before (primarily as a way to alleviate boredom), but he really does not have too many “vice habits” in the traditional sense.  Would ‘using people’ count?  If so, he certainly makes a habit of that- for both amusement and advancement. VIRTUES / VICES: As for virtues, I would say Patience, Courage, Intellect, and Determination are his best.  Vices?  Selfishness, Deceit, Stubbornness, and Pride are his worst. FAITH : Oh boy.  His relationship to faith and religion probably warrants its own post, to say it‘s complex is a gross understatement.  For starters, he believes in God, Satan, Heaven, and Hell.  He hates Devils because they are the cause of all misery- that view of his has never changed.  As for God, it’s a bit deeper.  He used to be quite a religious man- he grew up with religion in his human life, and even into his days as a reaper he used to love and trust God.  He was even grateful at first not to have been sent directly to Hell for his sin of suicide, and he would often hope and pray to find his forgiveness.  But over the centuries of serving his penance faithfully as a Reaper, he came to feel more and more that God had no intention of ever forgiving him, and that he had been completely tricked and lied to about God’s ‘infinite’ love and mercy.  He wondered if maybe the Dispatch was actually Hell instead of purgatory for people like him, where they had to live with false promise of finding eventual absolution and Heaven.  Eventually he came to hate God because he feels betrayed, hurt, and — ultimately — forgotten by Him.   GHOSTS ? : He thinks he’s seen ghosts before.  In reality, they were hallucinations, and on some level he knows that- but he chooses to believe they were ghosts. AFTERLIFE ? : Well, he’s in his afterlife, so yes he believes in it, haha! REINCARNATION ? : Nah.  He knows what happens to the dead.  He does thinks it’s a cool concept though! ALIENS ? :  He thinks aliens are an interesting idea, though even if they do exist, he does not believe it is any form of intelligent life- as he’s never seen or even heard of alien souls from anyone in the afterlife. EDUCATION LEVEL : Technically, the only formal education he has ever received was from the Dispatch.  In everything else, he is self-taught!

EXTRA.

TALENTS :  Most of his skills come from practice, rather than instinctual talent.  With so long to hone them, it makes sense that they would feel and appear to come naturally by now!  However, some talents that he was born with include his ability to think and learn quickly, his ability to read people, and his physical agility. BAD AT :  Letting things go, coping with his emotions/keeping himself in a good mental state.  Any sort of empathy (with rare exceptions) is virtually impossible for him. TURN ONS :  Grell, basically.  Mentally:  Someone with interesting ideas and perspectives.  Someone who is strong in their own right, but needs him at the same time.  Someone who can make him smile and laugh.  Someone not afraid to show a great deal of affection- he needs that.  Physically:   Mischievous eyes and smiles are a plus.  Soft lips, a toned body, well-kept skin and hair.  A nice butt, waist, and/or chest is always appreciated.  He also loves cute noses and freckles.   TURN OFFS :  Mentally: Stupid people are a major turn off (though he does appreciate how easily they can be manipulated).  People who accept the world at face value.  People who refuse to question authority.  People who get hung up on things like rules/labels/black and white morality/etc.  Quite hypocritically, he’s not fond of liars.  Physically:   He is fairly shallow in these regards, if you have anything but a face and body he finds both interesting and visually pleasing, he is turned off entirely.  Being weak is just as bad.  He is not a fan of slobby people at all, either.  HOBBIES :  Reading and/or studying various things is his go-to hobby (usually some kind of scientific topic, but he’s a fast reader and can manage to get through just about anything).  But there’s also drawing, playing the piano, talking to strangers just to how many secrets he can pry out of them, and finding new ways to make himself laugh.

TROPES :

Mad Scientist

Manipulative Bastard

Dangerous Deserter

The Mourning After or The Lost Lenore

In modern verse, however, “The Lost Lenore”/”The Mourning After” no longer directly applies, and in its place would be a mutually-assured variant of the Love Redeems trope with @maxabre.

Knowledge Broker

Nightmare Fetishist

I’m really shocked there’s no page on TV tropes (at least that I can find) for something like the “Lost My Family” or “Tragic Family Man” trope (à la Sweeney Todd), but yeah, that!

I already have too many here, but I’ll toss in For the Evulz and/or Yandere, depending on his cocktail of motivations in canon.  I’m willing to bet there’s a least a little of both.

AESTHETIC TAGS. 

 Graveyards, masks, laboratories, autopsies, books, Winter, smug smiles, mourning jewelry.

FC INFO.

MAIN FC / S : Himself, from the manga! ALT FC / S : none as of yet OLDER FC / S : none as of yet YOUNGER FC / S : I’m kinda iffy on this but I think Xerses Break from Pandora Hearts would look something like him as a young teenager! VOICE CLAIM / S : I actually LOVE the deep ‘real’ voice Junichi Suwabe gave him in Book of Atlantic.  So, that one!  Just try to imagine it in English.  I haven’t heard his real voice in the English dub yet, so I can’t judge it!   GENDERBENT  FC / S : none as of yet

[lefthanded-sans]

I was wondering.... what are your headcanons for the ages of Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore, Toriel, Frisk, Chara, Asriel and MTT?

Ooh, this is a very fun topic! In one of my fanfictions that I still haven’t posted online, I tried to do some timeline reconstruction and came up with dates. Not all the dates were 100% what I feel like would happen in Undertale (certain plot events needed to happen at certain times, so I aged Alphys up to 32), so I’ll tweak them for the purpose of being close to what I feel might decently align with UT canon:

1981 Sans born1986 Alphys born (a little early, but that was to fit with my fic’s events)1991 Undyne born1995 Papyrus born1998 Sans starts college2002 Sans starts PhD2007 Sans earns PhD2010 Gaster dies2012 Alphys “makes” Mettaton2013 Papyrus graduates high school2013 Alphys becomes Royal Scientist2015 Frisk arrives

By these dates, I have Sans at 34, Alphys at 29, Undyne at 24, and Papyrus at 19. Yes, thirteen and a half year age gap between Skelebros - will explain below. Not mentioned in your question, but if you’re curious, I had Gaster die at 54 in my fic.

Papyrus: 17-22 (broadly); prefer 19.5

I believe that Papyrus is a young adult, but only just a young adult. Papyrus has an energetic eagerness that belies youth, and arguably seems less knowledgeable about day-to-day living… but at the same time, he is old enough to be a candidate for the monarch position in the Neutral Ending.

Papyrus’ age is often talked about in reference to his online username, coolskeleton95, which as some have theorized gives his birthdate as 1995 (0r 2095, I suppose, if you hold to UT-in-the-future theories). Undertale was released in 2015, and although the game’s calendars refer to dates as 201X, the point still stands that 201X means that the game is supposed to hit at the present time as you are most likely playing the game. So that means somewhere around 2015 is a great date to “estimate” how old Papyrus is, in which case, he’s nineteen or twenty in the game. Arguably, you could drop his age even lower because Undertale was in development for several years, so technically Undertale could take place before 2015. That’s why I’m giving the broader “okay” range of 17-22. But I like nineteen and a half best.

It’s to note that Papyrus’ personality suggests that he is fairly youthful. It’s not just that he seems to be eager and, depending on your interpretation of his character, naive. His personality also seems to meld with the psychological profile of a teenager. Papyrus is psychologically struggling in the areas that lots of teenagers undergo: the desire to fit in, be popular, do what’s cool, be liked by everyone, and have enjoyable social interactions with others. From my experience (as someone who is 24), by the time an individual reaches their mid-20s, they don’t care that much about being “cool” or being loved by everyone in a popularity contest. I and most of my friends are pretty chill with just being ourselves even if that means not everyone likes us - who cares? So Papyrus’ social-oriented attitude (and simultaneous little personal knowledge of what it’s like to date) could also psychologically suggest a younger age.

The last thing that always screams “Papyrus is YOUNG” is the fact that he does not seem to be making money. He might not even have a paid job - his haphazard, poorly-constructed sentry station is at odds with the other sentry stations. Most of the sentry stations are standard, constructed the same way, as we would expect from the position. A sentry with a real job would be equipped with the materials they need to do a job, not be building their own station. They’re sentries, not construction workers. Undyne training Papyrus to fight but also giving him cooking lessons is also a means for which Undyne can give Papyrus an occupation… if he can learn to cook, she hopes, he can pursue a career there. This means that this guy probably does not have much occupational experience, and, again, might not even have an actual job.

The point about him not really having a job, or at least not much job experience, is solidified with the brothers’ housing situation. Papyrus and Sans live together, but Sans is the one who pays house rent. Usually in two-adult roommate situations, you split the bill 50/50. You are both adults, you’re both capable of taking care of yourselves, you’re both capable of working and making money, ergo, you should both be paying your fair share of the rent. But that’s not what is happening with Papyrus, suggesting that he is or until recently has been a dependent to Sans. And since it’s likely Papyrus and Sans have been living in the Snowdin residency for several years (no boxes, moved-in feel, etc.), Papyrus likely has been partially raised by older, adult Sans.

So… let’s get to Sans.

Sans: Mid-30s (ex: 34)

I love myself an older Sans, and I have my reasons for it, too. I prefer an age gap between the Skelebros of about 11-14 years. At least give it a decade. I know that many people place the brothers’ ages closer together, but I feel as though it makes more sense for Sans to be quite a bit older.

I believe there is evidence suggesting Sans has advanced scientific knowledge and training. In the Genocide Route when he talks about how “our reports showed a massive anomaly in the time-space continuum.” That’s pretty large vocabulary comfortably stated, demonstrating a familiarity with scientific research. This type of scientific research, in fact, involves something almost along the lines of the Many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics. After all, according to Undertale, we are given discussion about multiple timelines existing (see Alphys’ comment about studying how multiple timelines exist); in fact, that’s the very thing that the SAVE function does. It allows Frisk to hop between different timelines, where new timelines are created based upon Frisk’s choices. Studying massive anomalies in the time-space continuum is looking at, basically, quantum physics. Oh, and there’s a quantum physics book in the Skelebro’s household. Let’s not forget that.

So if Sans has expert knowledge of quantum physics - and I think there is decent evidence that can suggest he does (I’m not going through all of it now) - then he likely had to be formally educated on the topic. We know that the Underground has at least one graduate school because Temmie wants to go to graduate school. Calling Alphys and Gaster “doctors” suggests they have PhDs in some scientific field. For Sans to be working on a research project about massive anomalies in the time-space continuum, it seems he should probably have an advanced degree in it. Sans could have a PhD.

This already puts Sans above the young 20s range. Most people get their undergraduate in four years and their PhD in minimally five. Nine or more years of schooling means that, at youngest, Sans would be in his late twenties by the time he got his graduate degree in physics. But we also know that Sans had a past where he worked with some official team, moved to Snowdin, became a sentry, and earned an impressive amount of income somewhere along the timeline, so we have to put several years into that at least. By the time we get to all of Sans’ suggested life events, he’s easily fallen into his thirties. Probably mid-thirties.

This also helps make sense about Sans paying all the rent. He has, at least for part of their lives, seemed to be raising Papyrus, given as Papyrus is almost - when Frisk meets him - a dependent. We don’t know how long Sans and Papyrus have lived in Snowdin, but even if it’s been a decent several years, that’s enough age gap for an older brother with a past scientific background to be able to care for a baby brother growing into adulthood.

I am very hardcore on the idea of a large age gap between the Skelebros.

Undyne: 23/24

Undyne’s online username, strongfish91, has also been used as evidence for her age. Again going with my 2015 date, that puts Undyne in her mid-20s, which I do think is in the ballpark given her temperament. Although this would make her young for being the Captain of the Royal Guard, she’s still an old enough age to make responsible decisions… while also being young enough to be emotional and impulsive, as we see her so be. We know that Undyne met Asgore as a child… so this means that she could easily have a decade of fighting experience beneath her, enough for her to be talented enough… and to climb the ranks… to her current position.

Undyne and Papyrus being close ages also makes sense given how well they get along. Although Undyne is older than Papyrus - old enough to have job experience, skills, her own home, and perhaps a little more responsibility - they’re not so far apart in age that they can’t get along splendidly.

Last, Undyne in her mid-20s makes decent sense from a romantic standpoint. A bachelorette in her mid-20s being interested in a relationship is the ballpark age for a dater in our current society. The fact that she seems to be crushing on Alphys might be something typical of younger individuals - usually her actions I’d pin to a teenager in this area - but I suppose I still do know people in their twenties who get flighty and cumbersome with a crush. This is especially true of individuals who don’t have as much romantic experience in the past, and I think that, given how awkward Undyne is about her crush on Alphys, that she isn’t very romantically experienced. It’s feasible for Undyne to be in this age range and acting as she does to Alphys… or, at least, it’s not too completely odd to imagine.

Alphys: 28-30 (prefer 29)

She is Doctor Alphys, which again suggests a PhD. This implies to me that Alphys is older than Undyne… Alphys would need the years to get that PhD, after all. She’s also suggested to be older than the youthful Bratty and Catty, who call her a “big sister.” 

At the same time, we get a sense that Alphys is still young and relatively inexperienced in some areas. For instance, her research in the True Lab demonstrates scary scientific methodology breaches that I would hope a more secure and level-headed scientist wouldn’t ever commit. Asgore took a long time to pick a Royal Scientist replacement, suggesting that Alphys wasn’t a well-known… so she could be an up-and-coming scientist, placing her only a few years out from her PhD at most. Her interests and online rants about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie are also something that might put her into a somewhat younger level. 

So late twenties for me is that good, ballpark range. She’s old enough to have received her doctorate, but not so old that she’s confident in her scientific research as the Royal Scientist. She’s old enough to be Bratty and Catty’s “big sister,” but not so old to sound “out of place” in youthful online conversations and rants. And having Alphys be five years or so older than Undyne is not a bad age gap for the couple.

Asgore and Toriel: ????????

Boss Monsters can live a long time based upon how they age. Some people have tried analyzing the armor and architecture the monsters have in their underground which could pinpoint what time period they were first trapped underground. But even those sorts of estimates don’t let us know how old Asgore and Toriel were at that time; for all we know, these two could have been living centuries before the war against humans, too. There’s no way to tell how old they are, and I have no strong headcanon inclinations about their ages.

I don’t like to make them too old, though. Thousand-year-old Asgore feels slightly odd to me personally, even though I admit it’s a possibility.

Asriel/Chara/Frisk: 9-11

I don’t have much experience with children, but I do feel as though Asriel, Chara, and Frisk are all on the young side. They have to be pretty young to be as small as they are. They’re not full-grown. And sometimes they seem not to think things through like older individuals would. For instance, Frisk being willing to kill monsters also might suggest that the kid is too young to fully understand what is happening. All this makes me feel very strongly the kids cannot be teenagers. 

But, at the same time, these three children have to be old enough to understand some pretty dark concepts. Asriel and Chara choose to sacrifice themselves for the war cause - that’s something that a six-year-old isn’t going to plan and do. Frisk seems to be the same age as Asriel, and Frisk also shows some understanding of some adult things like flirting… so, again, not six.

A compromise between Frisk’s potential inability to feel full regret at killing monsters and Frisk being able to comprehend there is a war going on might place the kid somewhere between nine and eleven. We miiiiiiiight want to inch to eleven… Chara seemed to hate humanity, a bitterness that usually comes up when you’re slightly older (as versus when you’re younger, where you might be grumpy or sad or upset). And killing yourself for monsters also seems much more like a slightly older kid than a nine year old thing to do. So… while I personally would like Frisk to be eight, I think it’s more logical to say it’s around eleven for these children.

We can also try to do height analyses, but that gets sketchy fairly quickly. Undertale height calculations have a lot of variables and widely divergent estimates.

Mettaton: Mid-20s

We have no idea how long ghosts can live. Mettaton’s personality suggests an adult - he’s rather seductive, after all - and while becoming a robot might throw a huge wrench into usual psychology patterns, he acts as though he is in the prime of his life. Mettaton and Napstablook also both seem to act young, and act as though they are about the same age as one another. So, I would say this ghost-inhabiting-a-robot is fairly young.

As far as how long Mettaton’s soul has been with the robot… it has to be several years. Mettaton has not only established a fanbase, but also has a huge corporation with many products, too. Usually I want to headcanon two years as a robot, but given as there are so many Mettaton products out there - and even an entire resort - maybe that means we have to bump the age a little up. Say, five years. That might slightly clash with my Alphys age estimate though, if you think about timeline, but it’s not impossible. You can work the numbers and make it… well… work.

[holmesguy]

The Blanched Soldier, or, that one time Holmes sat down and wrote out a story with his own hands about admitting he was wrong for criticizing Watson’s romanticism, and about feeling abandoned after Watson’s marriage, and reflecting on the abandonment and incredulity Watson must have felt after Holmes’s disappearance at Reichenbach, and saying he misses Watson and his remarkable characteristics and cunning questions, and telling a story about a handsome soldier being separated from his beloved best friend by a lie and by an inability to touch and be near eachother for fears of scandal and death...

It’s difficult for me to explain The Blanched Soldier without going on a bunch of tangents so I will list off things I want to say about it with bullet points:

It’s written by Holmes and told from his point of view (1 of only 2 stories that do so) and Watson isn’t in it, but Holmes opens by talking about him.

It starts off with him conceding that he has annoyed Watson with his criticism of Watson’s writing enough times for Watson to say “Try it yourself, Holmes!”...which Holmes is now attempting with this story.

He says the case he is writing up is one that Watson has no notes of, because Holmes was alone since “the good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife.” (which he refers to as the only selfish thing Watson ever did)

He says of Watson: “Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances.” and calls him “an ideal helpmate”. (If you don’t know, here is the definition of helpmate: “A helpful companion or partner, especially one's husband or wife.”)

That’s from the first two paragraphs. Onto the case:

Holmes says according to his notes it occured on January 1, 1903, just after the conclusion of the Boer War. (And a few days before Holmes’s birthday, if you place his birthday on January 6th...Holmes would be about 50 here)

His client is a soldier recently back from the war who Holmes describes as “a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton” and “a gentleman of virile appearance” with stern blue eyes and a square jaw.

Holmes’s first line of dialogue to this “big, fresh” and “virile” recently returned soldier is “From South Africa, sir, I perceive.”

Ummm okay. What was the first thing Holmes said to Watson again? Oh yeah: “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” 👀

The client has come to him because of his “closest pal” for whom he feels “real love” and who he describes like this: “We formed a friendship—the sort of friendship which can only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and sorrows. He was my mate—and that means a good deal in the Army.”

His friend was wounded and sent to the hospital--and after that seems to have disappeared. “Since then not a word—not one word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closest pal.”

Was there anyone else in canon who had a story where their best friend disappeared without a word for a long time...? Ohh yeahh...Holmes and Watson...

I’m going to fast forward a bit now and spoil the ending while I describe the case and the soldier’s friend...

After returning from the war, in search of his friend, the client contacts his friend’s father to ask about his friend’s whereabouts. The father says that he had “gone on a voyage round the world” but the client begins to get the impression that this is a lie and the father is hiding something.

Again, who was it in canon who disappeared, went on a voyage around the world, and had a family member as a confidant? Oh right...Sherlock Holmes. 

The client isn’t convinced that his friend would just leave without telling him. He resolves to go to the father’s house to investigate.

While staying there, things become more and more suspicious.

In a strange twist, the client actually sees his friend outside the window. It’s night time and his friend peers in at him, then runs away when he realizes he has been seen. 

The story continues, I’m going to skip the details and come to the end: The friend had apparently contracted leprosy from unknowingly sleeping in a leprosy patient’s bed, and the family was keeping him hidden in a small detached house on their property under the care of a doctor. His disease had to be kept secret to avoid scandal in the town and to avoid being taken away to live among strangers, segregated from society. All this is revealed, and when he and the client finally speak to eachother, his friend says “Old Ralph [the servant] told me you were there, and I couldn’t help taking a peep at you. I hoped you would not have seen me, and I had to run to my burrow when I heard the window go up.”

Okay, once more: Who else is it who was in hiding from the world and keeping it secret from his best friend, and who ran away after a close encounter together? Ohh yeah...Sherlock Holmes, who says in The Empty House: “Several times during the last three years I have taken up my pen to write to you, but always I feared lest your affectionate regard for me should tempt you to some indiscretion which would betray my secret. For that reason I turned away from you this evening when you upset my books, for I was in danger at the time, and any show of surprise and emotion upon your part might have drawn attention to my identity and led to the most deplorable and irreparable results.”

The story, thankfully, has a happy ending: Holmes brings in a different doctor to provide a second opinion, and he determines that the patient doesn’t have leprosy, but instead a much less serious condition that is not infectious, and therefore he doesn’t need to remain isolated or in hiding. Presumably the friends are reuinted and able to be together freely from then on. 

Let me paint a picture: Sherlock Holmes was sitting alone at Baker Street, and inevitably his thoughts turned to Watson leaving him, and he wrote all this. Maybe he made it all up, or maybe it was a real case, either way, this is the story he chose to write down out of many possible others, and he drew a clear parallel between this soldier character and Watson when he echoed his own first words to Watson with his first words to this client (who Holmes gives a pretty flattering physical description of). The story is woven together with feelings of love, abandonment and guilt. The thoughts on Holmes’s mind while writing this are something along these lines (I’m not much of a writer but I’ll do what I can): “Watson left me...Why did he leave me? He never did a selfish thing to me in his life, except for that. We formed a friendship, lived the same life, shared the same joys and sorrows--he was an ideal helpmate. And I was criticizing him for his excess of sentiment. Look, now I’m trying to do things his way. I can see that I was being unfair. I even abandoned him myself. But I had important reasons...Didn’t I? Maybe not. Maybe I should have gotten a second opinion, maybe it was unnecessary for him to suffer...I miss him. I wish we could touch eachother without consequences.”

So that’s The Blanched Soldier, a story in which Watson does not technically appear but in which Watson is the predominant feature of interest. As always, things get murky if you try to create totally cemented interpretations of canon stories, because the timeline is very disjointed, and Watson and Holmes, and whoever wrote the third person stories, (and ACD...) are all unreliable and inconsistent narrators. So the exact details of why Holmes wrote this story, if Holmes wrote this story, when it was written, when it occured, if it occured, how Holmes really felt, whether Watson’s wife actually existed, etc. are all up for anyone’s best guess. I just wanted to throw this out there.  

Edit: I want to make note of the fact that the friend was (supposedly) afflicted with leprosy. I find this significant because it means that physical touch and closeness are dangerous for him and his friend. When the friend is discovered, he says to Holmes’s client: “Don’t touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance.” Furthermore, he must remain hidden from the public eye so no outcry breaks out about his condition and so he doesn’t have to face “segregation for life among strangers with never a hope of release.” 

Now, of course this could just really be about fears and stigmas surrounding leprosy, but it brings to mind for me a possible relation to or reflection of what might be Holmes’s fears about physical touch and closeness bringing disaster to him and Watson and the scandal and possible prison sentence and perhaps even death that would result if it were found out. I also find it interesting that the leprosy was (supposedly) contracted specifically by sleeping in a bed. Which, if we’re going with the “leprosy = intimacy (or homosexuality)” point of view, a bed seeming like a safe refuge but later proving to be deadly for the occupant and anyone who tries to get near him is pretty heartbreaking. It’s at least a comfort that by the end of the story, the patient’s case of “leprosy” turns out to be a less harmful condition that can be treated and isn’t contagious--that this, intimacy is not going to hurt his loved ones and he doesn’t need to hide himself away.